#I just want this account to be a place I spread my art and look at others

[barrel-of-bones-and-brain-worms]

I have to reblog this again because the only asks I've been getting are donation asks.

I'm not a minor but I have no money to give. I would if I could but I have practically nothing to my name. All I feel is crushing guilt when I get these. I don't have enough followers to spread this information and I know some of the few followers I have are minors and I'm sure at least the other half do not have the means to donate either.

I'm not comfortable with these asks and they just hurt my mental health that I struggle with normally. I can not help you. I can not donate. I'll occasionally reblog the mass donation links from other blogs but I can't do more than that. I can admit I can't really tell the difference between a scam and something legitimate.

I support Palestine and everyone who is struggling with one thing or another but I can't help you. If I had something to give I would but I am physically incapable and so are most of my small following. Please stop asking me.

Please do not send me asks for donations

Here's why:

I have NO money to give you

I'm not a popular enough blog that I will give you any reach

I am a minor, and most of my followers are too

It makes me feel extremely guilty

Seeing pictures of injuries or hospitals etc are triggering for me (which are in most intro posts for this sort of thing)

They are always worded in a way that makes me feel like I am a murderer if I don't donate

It makes me feel uncomfortable

I said I don't want them, and my boundaries should be respected

I can't tell what is a bot and what isn't

I get a lot of spam from this. It is disappointing to see 10 new asks in my inbox just to be the same ask for donations over and over

Please, just respect the fact that I have said this.

Edit: To all the people reblogging this, I'm sorry you have had to deal with this too. And yes, you can put this in your pinned post! Stay safe <3

[blooming-violets]

Nicest Thing Peter x Reader for 11. In joy? I really like that fic. I reblogged it on my old account. I feel like thats an underrated fic of yours (maybe bc it came out in 2022? Idk). Would love to see what happened to them!

It's still one my favs because it is just so...me?? Like if I had to chose anything that represented my personality perfectly, it would be Nicest Thing. Just a depressed, sad bitch who loves angst and Peter Parker and enjoys Kate Nash. I feel like I need another Kate Nash song for this "sequel" fic. I'll base it off her song Trash because these two are trash for each other.

You can read this as a separate, on its own Peter x Reader thing if you'd like or you can read it as a future piece to Nicest Thing.

Warnings: Smoking a joint and getting stoned

If porn bots can over take all the tags then I better not get flagged for these gifs.

Peter looked at her through blazed out, squinting eyes. A haze of smoke filled their bathroom as they passed the joint back and forth between them. They were seated in the unfilled tub, fully clothed, and facing each other. She had made him take the spot next to the faucet under the claims that sitting over the drain made her feel “icky” like she might get sucked in. He didn’t mind. Even if their leaky faucet kept dripping cold water over his shoulder. 

“Do you remember the Rugrats episode when Tommy and Chuckie are afraid of getting sucked down the bathtub drain because Angelica tells them a story of some other baby who died that way?” He asked, handing her off the joint. 

She placed it between her lips and he watched with a slow blinking, admiration for her. He loved her. She had been with him through everything. He owed his entire life to her. Without her in his life, he would no longer be here. She was everything important in the world. 

She smiled, remembering, and let out the most beautiful laugh. She always got extra giggly when they smoked. It was one of his favorite sounds. 

“Don’t they fill the drain with play-doh and shit? It’s a weird reddish, pink color. Why do I remember that specific color so much?” She replied, mystified. 

Peter chuckled, “Because old school Rugrats was filled with some crazy ass imagery. It sticks in your mind.” 

“Yeah but I remember thinking that I specifically wanted to eat that color...like maybe it would taste nice…like the imaginary food from Hook.” She passed it back to him, letting the smoke exhale in a little, circular puffs from between her lips. 

“Do you want to get into a pretend food fight with me and see if anything appears?” He grinned. 

Her red rimmed eyes squinted back at him as she laughed, “With the way these munchies have been hitting me the past few minutes, I think it might actually happen. I could imagine food hard enough to make it show up.” 

His mind started to wander as a hungry smile spread across his face, imagining all the food he could eat, and he spoke with a dreamy whisper, “Pizza bagels.”

“What?”

“Let’s make pizza bagels. ‘M hungry. Starvin’. Gonna die if I don’t get some food in me.” 

Her eyes glowed with excitement at the idea, “Pizza bagels. Yes, you’re a genius!” 

“I know,” he giggled, it bubbled out of him without any self control. It wasn’t the weed that did it. It was her. He felt free when he was with her. He flicked out the joint against the ashtray balancing on the edge of the tub. “I really am. Smartest man alive, probably.” 

She snorted, “Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. Get your ego in check, Parker, before I have to slap some sense back into you.” 

He beamed at her, his love consumed him, feeling it outshine every other emotion rattling around inside of him. She was beautiful. Stunning. Picture perfect. He wanted to hang her up on his wall like an expensive piece of art so he could admire every day of his life. 

Her shoulders shrunk up to her ears under the intensity of his gaze.

“Stop that,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me with those eyes or I’ll kick you. I’ve got a perfect aim for your crotch in this position.”

Peter shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I refuse. I can’t help it. You look…perfect. The nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“You’re stoned.” 

“Yes. Doesn’t change the fact that your lips look very enticing.” He winked at her and tried to scoot forward to get a taste. 

Her socked foot landed against his chest, pushing him back in place, “I thought we were making pizza bagels, not kissing. Weren’t you just starving a minute ago?” 

“Starving for you, maybe.” 

“Peter!” She let out a loud laugh, keeping him at bay with her outstretched leg. 

He was so in love. Completely enamored. Whipped. Head over heels. Trash for her. Whatever he wanted to call it. He belonged to her so wholly. His bleeding heart was in her hand for the rest of his life. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again. 

“If you don’t let me kiss you right this very second, I am going to turn this shower on.” His hand reached over his shoulder to grip onto the shower knob with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

She gave a sharp inhale, “You wouldn’t dare.” 

His eyebrows raised, taking on that challenge, “Oh really?”

She knew she fucked up the second before the shower burst to life. From his position in the tub, it shot over his head to spray directly into her face. She shrieked and fell back, sliding down the sloped edge of the tub until she was nearly on her back.

It was all the opportunity he needed to pounce. He leapt on top of her to the sound of her laughter and blocked the shower stream from her face with his back. His arms wrapped protectively around her head as he laid over her. Water pooled around them, warming their bodies, and soaking through their clothes. 

They didn’t feel it. 

All he could feel was the devoted love burning a hole in his chest where his heart used to be. 

She giggled up at him, blinking water droplets from her eyes, and whispered, “You’re an ass.”

He laughed in response and crashed his lips over hers, mumbling against them, “You love me.” 

She sighed in content. Her arms snaked around his neck to draw him closer, melting happily into his kiss. 

“I do.”

[inklessletter]

I'm going to get serious for a moment here:

Don't repost any art. Seriously, just don't do it. And if the artist catches you and asks you to turn down your post (that shouldn't even exist, to begin with), just fucking do it.

Seriously, you don't have any idea how fucking precarious and ruthless the laws for protecting the artist and their work are out there. We spend hours working on something FOR FREE and we want to SHARE IT with you out of kindness. We are CRAWLING our skin fearing fucking IAs that keep stealing our art to end up being part of designing companies in a very terrifyingly near future, and that means a lot of artists losing their jobs.

Artists are in constant WAR, have been for YEARS, the least fucking thing you can do is not being a C U N T, especially because you're getting art FOR FREE.

The artists who don't actually have an income out of their art and do this out of fun and love will eventually stop, because of people like YOU who steal art for a bunch of likes and reblogs (that shouldn't even be yours in the first place).

So, if you see a nice art and you want to reblog it, please, I'm begging you, check if the person who you are going to reblog it from is the actual artist (just look at the watermark or signature). It takes literally two seconds, please don't help spreading stolen art.

I am telling you right on the spot. If I ever see ANYONE (and I mean ANYONE, I don't give an actual shit if it is a big or a small account) sharing whether mine, or another artist's work I'm reporting your post and your full account for that matter for copyright infringement. And I encourage all of you to do the same. If you're an artist, this shouldn't be new for you, but if you find someone stealing your work, don't even warn them about it: fucking fill in a DMCA and send it.

I am an artist, I am at war and I will fight for my rights, for my works and for others in the same position.

(PS: And if you're a follower of mine that disagree with me in this matter, I kindly invite you to click the unfollow button and fuck off. I don't want you in my house. Thank you.)

[thepenandthepistol]

Mundane Aching (Platonic!Grain x reader)

Due to some soreness, you're unable to help Gem like you said you would. Grian helps you out and soothes some of your worries.

A/N : Sickfic I wrote because my period was killing me T-T and also the first thing I've actually posted on this account! A win for the slayers of perfectionism. This was meant as a platonic fic but I'm sure you could read it as romantic if you want. Also, reader is an avian as well. (1018 words)

Art by @applestruda and divider by @saradika-graphics

There's still so much to be done, and here you are, still under the sheets. You spent the first half of the day trying to manage a creeping pain in your back right where skin meets the base of your coal-black wings. Ache spreads in waves from the limb and into your vertebra, as if something alive is puppeteering the sinews under your skin.

Despite the guilt, you've resigned yourself to your bed; due to an enormous nap, you missed your afternoon plans with Gem. Being an avian means you were much more used to flying than she was, and the new nether build she was planning required some tight maneuvering. Days like these are some you look forward to, holding onto the back of her chestplate, hovering over lava lakes and bastions. 

The trust she has in you, feeling safe even if dangling over potential death, is special in its own right. The friendship you've cultivated and the idle conversations had midair are among your most treasured memories. So, when the exhaustion from carrying materials to and from your shop finally made itself known, you groaned as you curled up on your bed, trying to push away the pain and at least pass by Gem's to apologize for your absence. Maybe sweeten the deal with a nice cake and evening tea.

A sudden flash of crimson outside your window makes you stop in your tracks, feet just inches from touching the cool floor. A single moment of silence is had before Grian pulls himself back up onto the windowsill with a mischievous smile. 

"Did I scare you?" He asks, shuffling inside and closing the window behind him with a soft click.

"Oh yeah," you start, closing your eyes and breathing deeply as a particularly sharp stab rolls from your back and claws at your ribs. "Only if being worried you were going to cut your wings on the bars outside counts as scared." 

"Excuse me, I'm very skilled! I could probably dodge like five of those in a row." He speaks with a smile, but, to your dismay, he's seen through your teasing and into the discomfort below. 

"Gem's been looking for you," he says, aligning some of the trinkets on your shelf and picking your work clothes off the floor. "Sent me here to check while she continued working." 

"Shit," you sigh and drape your arm over your eyes, blocking the light crawling in from outside. "I'm having a bad day, I guess. Must've overworked myself last week, and now my wings are killing me."

"Have you had something to eat?" You hear your closet door creek open and Grian looking for something between clothes and towels.

"Not exactly. I had a snack before midday, but I slept through lunch." You open your eyes to see him bring a nice blanket over your shoulders. It doesn't ease the pain, but the soft texture makes existing a little easier.

"Well, just about time for some tea then." You grimace, remembering your promise to Gem. Grian moves to close the room door behind him when you groan out a protest, wrapping the woolen quilt around yourself and finally standing up.

"I'll join you. If I lay here any longer, I'll sleep the entire day away," Grian snickers, but walks in sync with your lethargic steps down the stairs and into a quaint kitchen. 

Plopping down on a stool, you watch Grian clack on the stove and place a ceramic kettle on top. It was a birthday gift from Ren. A painted flock of dark birds contrasts the white background alongside some fleuron details. 

"Grian, mate, it's you," you point to a particularly wonky bird.

"Absolutely not, look at him! He's your splitting image." He gestures to the dark wings behind you. 

"You know what else is splitting?"

"Your head?"

"My head."

You rest your temple on the wooden table and furrow your eyebrows. You could probably make the journey over to Gem's by now; despite the headache and muscle cramps, you're feeling well enough to stand, and you could chance flying the short way over. 

With a crack, you stretch your wings entirely; they spasm a bit before reaching their full length; you pay no mind. What was once a terrible tendon-deep flare has resided to a burning soreness; you've done more than travel a couple hundred blocks in worse conditions. 

Grian pours the water into two mugs, each with a homemade teabag flopping loosely off the side. You take the smaller mug, lifting it to say 'cheers,' and sip on the sweet berry. You begin putting on your boots when Grian finally lets concern wash over his face.

"You should rest a bit more. Gem's fine. Her garden's turning out really nice." You hesitate a tad bit before tying the laces together.

"I promised her I'd help you know. I'm sure she understands, but I want to make good on my word." You don't register Grian setting down his mug and tilt your head in confusion as he kneels and pulls your boots to his thigh, unlacing them.

"You sound like a knight going to war," he cracks a tiny fond smile. "I know it's your nature, but these things aren't that serious. Your 'word' is still good even if you don't put your own health on the line." Silence follows.

"You're sure she doesn't need me?"

"Positively." He stalks off to line your shoes up by the door and then returns, sitting next to you on the couch and letting his wing curl around you.

"You need to relax. No wonder you're having a bad time when your muscles are that tense." He teases, and you scoff, taking back the mug and continuing to drink.

"Can you tell Gem I won't be making it then, please." 

"Yeah, course," he says, knocking his shoulder with yours and hopping to his feet. 

"I should tie a letter to your leg and throw you out of the second-story window." You say into the mug as he turns the knob on the front door.

"Hey! I am not a pigeon!"

[apomaro-mellow]

Eddie steals the Hope Diamond; spicy six heist au

"I thought the centerpiece of this museum was a t-rex skeleton. What’s an elephant doing here?”, Eddie asked.

“That’s Night at the Museum, man. You’re thinking of the movie”, Jonathan said from next to him.

“Kinda disappointed to be honest. I go right you go left?”

Jonathan went to the left of the entrance while Eddie went right. Nancy was speaking to them both through earpieces. Getting a map of the museum was a fine way to get a general layout. But nothing beat getting actual feet on the ground.

Eddie moved around, letting the traffic of the museum move him. He knew he was moving in a non-linear fashion, but it was hard not to double back when he saw an interesting diorama or model.

“Eddie, don’t get distracted”, Nancy warned.

“Who me? Perish the thought”, he said, fully intending to do recon in the fossil exhibit, only to pass by the hall of gems and minerals. He let out a low whistle.

“I know who you would be perfect for”, he murmured to himself. But Nancy could hear him loud and clear through the earpiece.

“Eddie…we are not stealing the Hope Diamond.”

Eddie liked jewelry. And he liked Steve. Scratch that, he loved Steve. And he loved putting him in pretty things. That diamond necklace was a very pretty thing.

“It can be our little secret Nancy. I wanna surprise Steve with something nice.”

“Then buy him a legit diamond with your cut. We have a client that we need to keep happy.”

“I can multitask.” There was quite the crowd around the diamond, watching as it rotated in its case. Obviously he knew it wouldn’t be easy to lift it, even with their team. But they were already going to be in the museum to steal something from the Ancient Egypt exhibit. Why not get something else on the way out?

He and Jonathan finished cruising the museum and returned to the apartment space they were currently using to plan this job.

As expected, Nancy had a map of the whole place, all floors included spread out on a large table in the living room.

“We start at 1200 hours”, Nancy said. “By the end of this, we should have some T-rex teeth and have enough to pad our accounts for quite some time. Eddie, did you get a good look at the teeth.”

“I did. Between me and Bucks, we should have some decent replicas in time.”

Nancy nodded. “Don’t forget to reference Jonathan’s pics too. We need them to be flawless.”

“Alright, so everybody know their parts?”, Robin asked.

“I’m one part of the distraction with a pizza delivery”, Argyle said. “Once the guy’s out there, I keep him occupied for as long as I can.”

“Jonathan and I will handle the security cameras. We go in, knock ‘em out, and make sure it switches to our pre-made loop”, Steve said while twirling a pen in his hand.

“Steve keeps guard by the door and I keep an eye on the cameras. If we need any interception, he’ll run point”, Jonathan added.

“Once everything’s set, Big Wheel and I will do the switcheroo”, Eddie illustrated by juggling some of the stones he’d bought at the gift shop. None of with were as eye-catching as the diamond.

“Once we bag the teeth, we meet up with Robin in the van and then we’re out”, Nancy said.

Argyle raised his hand up for a high five which Jonathan answered. “And another one in the books.”

Steve pulled Eddie away from the others into the kitchen and gently pressed him against the fridge. Eddie initiated a kiss, ready for some lovin’. Going over a plan always got Steve hot for some reason. Not that he was complaining.

But then Steve pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Nancy said you’re planning on doing something stupid.”

Ah, this was an interrogation.

“Is it stupid to act on my desires and do what I please?”

“Is this like the art museum where you just had to touch that Pollock painting?”, Steve asked.

Eddie avoided his eyes. “Something like that.” If Steve kept at it, he would end up telling him everything. And he wanted it to be a surprise. He just knew the look on his love’s face when he presented the necklace would be worth more than all the gems in the world.

He cradled Steve’s face and kissed him and then kissed him again. “Just trust me, baby.”

He’d never do anything to put Steve in danger. And he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think he could swing it.

As Nancy had planned, the op began at midnight. The pizza gambit, which Nancy had only been 40% sure would work, actually did. When Steve and Jonathan successfully made it to the surveillance room and took over, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she only had to worry about the wild card in the group. Eddie pretty much always deferred to her leadership. But anything regarding Steve was like invoking impulse.

Nancy was working on removing the first tooth when she saw Eddie looking up at the cameras. He bit his lip and then turned to her.

“I gotta do it.”

“You realize it’s stupid and reckless, right?”, she said in a whisper but kept her eyes on the fossil.

“Love makes you crazy. But I don’t need to remind you. Madrid ring any bells?”

Nancy paused in her work. Madrid, right. “Just don’t get caught or it really will be like Madrid.”

Eddie was already making his way from the fossils to the gems. He turned his earpiece on.

“Robin, Jonathan, mind giving me a little help?”

“Holy shit”, Jonathan hissed, pulling Steve’s attention from the door.

“Nancy was right, you are stupid”, Robin said with a shake of her head as she watched the feed from the van.

“What is it? What’s Eddie doing?”, Steve asked, coming over to look at the monitors.

Jonathan changed the one Eddie was on just in time. “He’s uh, taking a little detour.”

“I’m going. Where is he?”

“Steve, stay focused”, Nancy said. “Eddie will be fine.”

They heard footsteps and Steve’s head whipped towards the door. Thankfully, he was already changed into a guard’s outfit. He stuck his head out and saw a guard headed their way. If he looked in the room, he’d see two unconscious dudes on the floor and two guys who didn’t belong there.

Steve came out and closed the door.

“Hey!”

“Hey”, Steve replied.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What am I-? What am I doing here? Why are you speaking to me like that? Like you don’t know me?”

“Because I don’t”, the guard said.

Steve let his shoulders sag a little and made his eyes a little bigger. “I know what he made was kind of a fling but I thought...I don’t know maybe it could be something more.” The guard looked taken aback but not indignant. Good. “You really don’t remember me?”

“I think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Eddie listened while Steve flirted and it both made him proud and made him burn with jealousy. He’d have just the thing to show him who he belonged to later.

He knew Nancy was done when he heard two clicks. Eddie had closed the necklace up in a box prepared just for the occasion. When he rendezvoused up with Nancy, her eyes narrowed at the box.

“So you were going to do it anyway.”

“You know me, I’m like a dog with a bone.”

They got to the van and were shortly joined by Argyle.

“How was having the easiest job today?”, Robin asked.

“Easy, my ass.”

“Yeah, your ass. All you had to do was smoke with a security guard”, Eddie said.

“It was so goddamn tedious. He just went on and on about Robocop.”

Jonathan and Steve returned just about a minute after and Eddie immediately pulled Steve into his lap.

“There’s my baby.”

“And that’s officially another one in the books”, Argyle said, high fiving with Robin. “Celebration dinner?”

“I’m in the mood for French”, Robin said.

“If you guys are going out, you can drop me and Steve off at the apartment”, Eddie said while stroking his thigh.

The other groaned but Robin made her way there anyway. If going over the plan made Steve hot, a successful one with no hitches made him hornier than anything. He was already kissing at Eddie’s neck so he wasn’t sure what they were surprised by.

The others took off for dinner, leaving them alone with the fossil teeth to deliver in exchange for cash in the morning. Steve had Eddie pressed against a wall, kissing him but this time Eddie pulled away.

“I got a gift for you, gorgeous.”

“Hm?”

“But I need you to strip first.” All he needed was Steve. Anything else would get in the way of his beauty.

Steve smirked and turned away from Eddie. Just to be cheeky, he took off his shoes and socks first. Then he turned away and took off his shirt while heading to their room. He left a trail of clothes behind him, which Eddie dutifully picked up so he wouldn’t be chewed out by Nancy later.

When he got to the room, Steve was perched on the edge of the bed, one knee up to his chest.

Eddie almost forgot his actual intention and took him right there.

“Well? My gift?”, Steve reminded him.

“Right, right. The gift.” Eddie dropped the clothes and got the box. He got down on his knees and opened up the case, presenting the necklace.

“Eddie..”, Steve’s voice was breathless and he sat a little straighter. “You didn’t...”

“I did, baby. I saw it and I thought of you.”

Eddie got up and sat behind Steve to put it on him. He kissed his nape once he was done and Steve turned so he could get the full visual.

“How do I look?”

It was as Eddie had suspected. The hope diamond was a nice piece of finery on its own. But on the neck of the most handsome man in the world, it truly shined. Eddie could understand why a blue rock had been coveted for so long.

“You make it look so good”, Eddie said before leaning in for a kiss. Honestly it was like the necklace had been made for Steve specifically. As Steve laid out under him, Eddie got to observe the work of art he was. God, he deserved to be immortalized.

“If this was just a regular gift, I wonder how you’re gonna top it when you propose”, Steve teased as he lifted Eddie’s shirt over his head.

“Sweet thing for your engagement ring, I’m giving you the moon.”

Steve’s peal of laughter turned into sighs as Eddie nipped at his chest around the necklace. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would at least try a moon heist. He just wondered how much grief the others would give them for it.

[batshaped]

twitter stop fucking up for one second challenge (impossible)

well,

here’s the thing. it feels like social media is changing lately. every social media site seems to be fucking up or getting worse in its own special little way. i recently read and thought a lot about this article which coins the term “enshittification” and describes the process by which every social media platform eventually becomes so greedy as to become unusable. it makes me wonder if the social internet is due for a big shift in the near future. 

for a long time, twitter was the best place for me. for all its issues, it had the audience that i could reach the easiest, that was the most invested in my art. i got (still get) a lot of awesome replies and really great analysis of my work on twitter, which i didn’t receive on any other platform. i was able to encourage those readers by retweeting their comments and theories to show that i liked hearing their thoughts. i could use the Moments feature to organize my art and make my comic easily readable in order. and anyone could look at my twitter, account or no.

ever since the site was bought out, twitter is getting worse. i can’t use the app on mobile anymore because every reply section is drowned out by blue checks and choked with ads. the Moments feature was disabled and people couldn’t easily read my comics in order anymore. and this is without even touching on the bigger/more serious issues the buyout has brought to the app. these are just the ways it has made my personal experience of being an artist on there worse. and now, apparently, you can’t even look at my work unless you have an account.

it’s been pretty common in the past year for the new management to implement a bad feature and then undo it after backlash, and maybe this too will be reversed. but even if it is unimplemented, the platform will continue to get worse. all platforms are getting worse right now. all of them are becoming untenable to use without 7 bespoke browser extensions to block ads, hide specific unwanted content, force chronological order, and so on. on mobile i don’t even bother. apps are unusable. 

on top of that, i have the personal issue of not being the type of creator who is particularly good at staying on top of more than one or two platforms daily. twitter has been my main for years now, so i’m pretty good about updating it very regularly. instagram is trailing behind, i usually remember to post there daily (especially as i’m remaking mine right now and posting my entire backlog) but sometimes i forget. and that’s kind of my limit. every other site falls by the wayside because i just don’t want to spend my whole day or life updating platforms. i know there are tools that can do it automatically for you but i don’t want to do it that way and then i’d have to figure out a new tool and get yet another account on yet another app and install yet another extension to use it.

i just want to draw. i don’t know how we arrived at this place where we need to be 700 other things when we are just artists. i draw and write, isn’t that enough? if i wanted a presence on tiktok i’d also have to be a video editor who pays close attention to trends and makes sure to transform my artwork into something people on that app are interested in. even if i just wanted to have a strong presence on say, twitter/instagram/tumblr/tapas/webtoon i’d have to take on another (unpaid) job as my own social media manager, meticulously managing my uploads across 5+ apps and making sure everything is up to date and tailored to what “works” on each particular platform. i already have a day job—i’m a storyboard artist. the art i post online is supposed to be made and given freely for my own enrichment first and foremost, and for the joy of sharing with others as a close second.

i wonder if we’re due for a mass rejection of this increasingly draining cable-wars-style model of spreading ourselves thin across multiple platforms just to reach the exclusive audience each one provides. i’m starting to feel done with that concept, but i still want to share my art. i want to hear my readers’ thoughts. i want to create things that connect with others. i want to do it without these ever-mounting obstacles.

what i’m doing about it is creating my own website at my own domain that belongs to me. i doubt i’ll be quitting social media when it’s done. social media is still where the audience i cherish lives. but you can bet that when that website is ready to be shared, i’ll be talking about it on every social media account i own. i’ll be telling everyone there’s a place to look at my art where you don’t need an account, you don’t have to struggle through a morass of ads, and you don’t have to line the pockets of a billionaire who bought a social media app on a whim. it’ll just be you and my art. alone together.

by the way, to @whatthehelljake​ i apologize for writing a fucking SAT essay on a screenshot of your reply. any exasperated tone here is not directed at you at all. it’s directed at this sea of obstacles that disrupt the simple concept of “i made art and i want to share it with you.” your reply is how i found out today that twitter made this change. i cherish the fact that you want to connect with my art so much that you alerted me to this. i wish that wasn’t necessary. i want to make my work on my own terms—and want you to be able to experience it on YOUR own terms.

all that to say, i think the website is going to be the main answer to this issue. i don’t see myself having the energy to update tumblr that much more often than i already do, though maybe i’ll try to pick up the pace a little now. we’ll see. holy shit if you read all this go drink a glass of water or something get up and stretch. ok thank you bye <3

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

Let's Get These Heels Off...

Burlesque!Terzo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, MDNI!, Lingerie, basically smut with a little tiny bit of plot 🤷‍♀️

Word count: 3.4k

ANYWAY, I'M BACK HI HELLO!!!!! I really did not mean to take a hiatus, but I am in grad school and that just needed my attention these past weeks. I have been writing the whole time, this just happens to be the first thing to get finished!

But! I am sooooo excited about this! @angellayercake and I have been squealing and giggling and losing our minds over burlesque Terzo for months now and she requested this special 🥰 it was an honor to write this for you, my dearest Cake, and I hope you love it as much as I love Pastimes for a Retired Papa and Banchetto!!! Enjoy 😘

Photo credit to @theshamelessghoul @vitadevoid on Instagram 🩷 please go follow both of her accounts, she's an absolutely beautiful artist.

After stalking his Instagram page every night for a week, you knew you had to see him perform in person. Not to mention that Vegas isn't too far a drive from your place. You 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to see him, you just had to.

And that's how you found yourself at the door of this club, paying the high cover charge. The venue was well worth it though, beautiful dark decor, mirrors and dim lighting making the place feel large, but intimate. You'd made it a point to dress appropriately, wanting to look fine and feel your best, but not outshine the performers. So you went with a tight black leather dress that displays your bust nicely, black lace long sleeve crop top layered over, and of course black stiletto heels to match.

Glad you came by yourself to fulfill this silly little fantasy, you take a seat in a quaint cushioned arm chair, noticing the array of vintage mismatched furniture, and order a drink. There was already a set going on, dancers gracefully moving across the stage, with the lighting offering glimpses of the room while keeping most of the viewers concealed in the shadows. You were grateful for that.

You'd never been to a place like this before and you just wanted to view the art from a distance.

Just in time too, as the one you'd been longing for took the stage, his presence larger than life, seemingly squeezing all the air from the room... And he hadn't even shown any skin yet.

His gig was definitely out of the ordinary, but there was something so alluring about watching this Anti-Pope, Papa Emeritus the Third, sashay across the stage. His dance style is slow and sensual, teasingly revealing a fishnet clad leg here or a lace covered hip there as he slowly works his way out of his papal vestments.

He certainly has the bedroom eyes down to a science as you find yourself unable to look away. Another thing that's hard to look away from is that beautifully plump ass, showcased so artfully with leather straps cupping his cheeks.

The Anti-Pope was well practiced at making his way across the floor, legs spread sinfully and hands groping various body parts. Lastly, he unhooks his corset to reveal tassels on his nipples, and he wasn't left in much more than those and a pair of panties. A few more twirls around the stage and the last few notes of the song ring out, while the lights go totally dark, leaving it pitch black in the room. The click of his heels returning backstage are the only sound until the lights slowly come back up.

Hell, he really knew how to leave a crowd wanting more. Or maybe it was just you--either way, you were happy to have seen him perform in person. It had been worth the drive and every penny.

You were pleasantly surprised to find him in the kickline of a few other performances that night, for the performers that needed back up dancers. Although you did think it was unfair for the boss to put him in the back like that, because he always stole the stage from whoever was supposed to be leading.

After the night had simmered down, a few of the dancers creeped out into the audience, mingling with the crowd to keep them happy and earn the waiters some higher tips. There were still a few performances happening, but they hardly held your attention as you felt a shift in the vibe. Papa had come out from backstage and was taking his time greeting the guests, many of them wanting to kiss his hands or cheeks.

He's so charismatic that people are drawn to him like a magnet. You feel the pull too, but you're perfectly content to watch from afar... It's not like he would know you anyway.

That is, until it seems like he's coming your way. Is he? No. Surely he's looking for someone behind you.

Tensing your fingers around the arms of the chair, you try to straighten up as best you can as he saunters right over, leaning forward and placing his hands on top of yours, effectively pinning you to the spot. His nose is only inches from yours as he looks you over, "Didn't your Mama teach you it's impolite to stare?"

"D-don't mind me... I'm just enjoying the view, um, Papa." You knew you didn't stand a chance of sounding confident in front of him, so you just did your best not to fumble your words.

He smirks, letting you know he enjoys the flattery, "Please, tesoro, call me Terzo. Papa is simply my stage name." He winks and offers his hand up to your lips.

Carefully, you take his hand in yours, appreciating his short black nails, before softly placing a kiss to his knuckles. "Terzo," you whisper, mostly to yourself.

While his hand is still in yours, he snakes his hand around your wrist before bringing it to his lips. "And you? Who are you this evening, dolce mia?"

"Just a starstruck fan," you supply before giving your name.

Still kissing his way up your arm, he tries your name on his tongue before nipping at your earlobe, earning a heavy breath from you.

"Would you like to take this somewhere a bit more private, bella?"

You stutter, "I-I didn't... I didn't think that was allowed here."

"Sì, sì, you are right, 'no stripping here on The Strip', eh?" he chuckles. He stands up and stares you down, looking you directly in the eyes, "I guess I'll be getting off all by myself tonight then." He fakes a pout before flashing a playful look at you.

Suddenly he's walking away, as if he'd forgotten about you all together.

"Hey, wait!"

He keeps walking, heading up the spiral staircase behind the stage. You hesitate momentarily before chasing him up the stairs. You had come all this way; why not take the fantasy as far as he would let you?

Upstairs, he sits at his vanity, illuminated beautifully by the soft light. Yet again, you stare as he fixes up his makeup. When he sees you behind him, he makes a comment about you being in his mirror.

But then he stands up and you're drawn to one another. He turns and within a second, his hands are on your jaw and yours on his waist, making out.

At some point, you were spun around and the next thing you know, you're being backed into another vanity, stumbling into it as lip glosses and tubes of mascara roll onto the floor. Grabbing roughly at your ass, Terzo lifts you onto the vanity, mouth never leaving yours. In fact, he uses it as leverage to gain access to your tongue.

Your fingers tremble in an attempt to untie the silk robe he'd covered his lingerie with, while he's working your black lace top off. As it drifts slowly to the floor, you start to hear a rumbling noise across the room.

Terzo pulls away from you, and before you can ask what the noise is, he's pulling you off the vanity. "Come with me, cara mia," he whispers, dragging you behind one of the various curtains back stage. Suddenly the room fills with chatter, and you realize the noise had been many, many sets of high heels coming up the stairs. The night must be over downstairs and the club getting ready to close.

Wrapped in a shroud of darkness behind the heavy velvet curtain, you feel Terzo's hands return to your waist and his lips at your ear, "Quiet, dolcezza, we wouldn't want to get caught, would we?"

"No," you reply, trying not to giggle. His mouth is curled into a big smile as it makes contact with your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along your exposed skin. Silently you let out a shaky breath, fighting off a whimper.

"Ugh! Whose shirt is this?! They knocked over all my shit!" one of the dancers yells, receiving a low chuckle from Terzo.

Hands sliding up his body, you finally slip that robe from his shoulders, exposing more skin, but your hands are much more interested in diving into that luscious black hair, which draws another low noise from the man. "Shhhh," you breathe out.

His hot mouth is now lapping at your cleavage, until his thumb finds the scandalously placed zipper on the front of your tight leather dress. Inching the pull tab down, his nose dips down to the space between your breasts where he places a soft kiss.

Gently you hold him against you, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on his cheek. Undoubtedly, you have his face paint all over you, but Terzo is simply alluring in everything that he does. From the way he performs on stage, grasping everyone's attention in the palm of his hand to the dangerous way he romances you, kissing you like he loves you... you know you'll never get enough.

Finally, the dressing room starts to quiet down. Girls chatter about where they're going to grab dinner or who's going home with who. And eventually, you're left alone with your lover for the night.

Peaking his head out from behind the curtain, Terzo nods that the coast is clear, taking your hand and smirking, "Per favore, bella mia, follow me. I know the perfect place to have my way with you."

Cocky in an endearing way, that's how you'd describe him. A stranger who somehow knows exactly what you need... It's maddening, but comforting.

However, upon reaching some kind of office door, you are given some pause, "Hey, woah, where are we going?"

"Just through here, amore," he tugs your hand.

"I mean, is that someone's office? Are we supposed to be in here?" You question him, but the idea of getting caught has certainly done something to you.

"Sì, the owner's. Won't it be fun, dolce?"

Looking between his hand still holding yours and his playful duochromatic eyes, you can't deny him. "Yes," you grin, biting your lip as he pulls you through the doorway, nearly slamming it behind you.

Despite him not being the largest man, he has full control of your body, making quick work of shoving everything off the desk and laying you back on it. "Bellissima, cara mia, your beauty is unmatched," he mumbles, admiring your disheveled form spread out before him.

You huff, "Please... Have you seen yourself?" It was true. He looks like pure debauchery in that moment, leaning over you in nothing but heels, fishnets, and a black lace thong.

He smiles in a way that almost looks shy, "Sì, but tonight is all about you, no?" He leans over you on the desk, placing a kiss to your jaw.

"Who said that?" you sigh at his contact.

"You did, signora, with your actions," his lips start their decent down your body, again on your cleavage, your sternum, your belly, as he slowly unzips your dress and continues his explanation, "you drive all the way out here, from wherever you come from; you dress up; you spend your evening with us... I have never seen you before."

By now he's made his way to the waistband of your panties, kissing the skin just above the lace.

"Oh, and you know everyone who comes in here?" you chuckle and your hand comes up to massage his scalp.

"Mmm, sì, amore," he slides the zipper down to where it ends at your knees, allowing the dress to fall open, and he lifts one of your legs off the desk to nip at your inner thigh, "and if I do not know someone... I make it a point to introduce myself." His devious eyes flicker up to yours.

"So you do this with everyone you meet?" you sit up and raise your eyebrows, shaking the dress straps from your shoulders.

"Are you implying something about me, tesoro? Besides..." He ducks his head down, rubbing his nose perfectly across your clit, "It's not lady-like to kiss and tell."

Feeling his hot breath even through your underwear, you're met with those smoldering bedroom eyes he had on stage. When you let out an involuntary whimper, you have to stop yourself from urging his face towards your core.

Like a mind-reader though, he's pulling off your panties, "You must've been wet from the moment you saw me on stage." He grins proudly, but before you can chide him, Terzo's mouth is already on you, instead stealing the air from your lungs as his tongue circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Ah! Oh, Terzo..." you gasp as your fingers curl in his soft hair. If your eyes hadn't been screwed shut in pleasure, you would've seen the enjoyment written on your lover's face as he works his magic.

His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you to the edge of the desk to be able to dip his tongue between your folds, teasing your entrance. Your needy whines egg him on as he fucks you with his tongue, that perfect nose smashed up against your oh-so-sensitive clit. It's so overwhelming you actually try to push his face away, but Terzo digs his heels in, holding you firmly in place. Surely you'll have bruises where his fingertips clutch at your skin.

In an embarrassing amount of time, that familiar tension builds in your abdomen. Looking down at the man through your lashes, you feel an urge to beg for permission, but your mouth is unable to form the words. He senses it though, and gives you a gentle nod without disrupting his ministrations. Thighs squeezing against his ears and a high heel digging into his back, you cum for him, convulsing as he carries you through it.

Carefully, he stands up between your legs, allowing you to lean on him with your arms wrapped around his neck as you both catch your breath. Propping your chin up on his chest, you look up at Terzo. His face paint is totally wrecked, but you like seeing what's beneath it as well.

"Bene?" He whispers softly, "Was it good for you?"

"Yes," you let out a breathy laugh at the absurdity of that question. Eyes trailing down, you notice his painfully hard cock barely concealed by his thong. Looking up at him, you slowly reach for it, and you're met with a pleased hum when you palm at the head.

His lips find yours once again as he gently bucks into your hand, feeling just as needy for you as you'd been for him. "Per favore..." he rasps, "please."

"Please, what, baby?" you ask him.

"Fottimi," he says it so quietly you hardly hear him.

"Hm?" you look up, cupping his chin in your fingers, other hand still working his throbbing desire.

Squeezing his eyes closed, a beautiful blush blooms across his cheeks, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me..."

Seeing this once-confident performer enter such a space, you feel even more of a need to please him; it lights a fire like you hadn't experienced before. "Why don't you go lay on the couch for me then, hm?"

It's not lost on you how earlier you'd been worried to even come in the office, and now you're telling your lover to use the furniture.

He nods and takes a couple steps across the small room, heels clicking on the old hardwood floor. Pausing in front of the small piece of furniture like he has to think about it, he slowly bends at the hips, placing his hands on the soft cushion first, then following with his knees.

You follow him over, unable to resist his plump backside. Palming and squeezing at it, you chide him, "Putting your cute little ass on display for me? Just like you did on stage," you trail off. 𝘛𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘱! You earn an involuntary moan from Terzo as you spank him. He turns to look over his shoulder at you, where you then lean down and press a soft kiss to the hand mark you left on him, "I think I asked you to lay down."

He gives you that devilish grin before flopping back on the sofa, stretching and arching his back, feigning innocence.

Something about him acting this way emboldens you, so settling between his spread legs, you reach down and harshly tear open the front of his fishnet stockings, "If you want to act like a little whore, then I'm going to treat you like one!"

He reaches down to grab your wrist, placing it on his crotch and rutting against your hand again, "Sì, amore, please..."

Snatching your wrist away, you swat your fingers at his erection, making him jerk in a way that you're pretty sure means he liked it. "You're lucky you're so goddamn pretty."

"Hmm," he grins again, "Or what?"

"Or..." Roughly, you grab the waistband of his offending little panties and rip them down enough to expose him, the pretty pink tip dripping with precum. Taking his length in your hand, you stroke up and down, before continuing, "Or I wouldn't touch you like this..."

He whines at the way you handle him; he's so perfect, you know you can't resist him any longer.

Moving to straddle his hips, you grind your sex on his. This allows you to lean down and kiss him again, which he pulls you into hungrily. When you break away, you gaze into those lust blown mismatched eyes, "Or I wouldn't fuck you."

It's your turn to grin as you line him up with your entrance, and he becomes a writhing mess beneath you. Seconds later, however, the room is filled with gasps, sighs, moans as you finally become one.

With Terzo fully seated inside, you waste no time working your hips, easing you both into the motions of lovemaking. And what a picture you are: a tangle of limbs, lingerie, and stilettos.

His needy hands reach out to squeeze at your breasts, urging your bra straps off of your shoulders. Finally, you reach behind to unclasp the article of clothing and discard it. In an instant, your lover's hands return, cupping, massaging, and teasing your chest. The way his fingers roll your nipples already has them budding, but his mouth closing around one of them really does the trick.

With one hand cradling the back of his head and the other on his shoulder for support, you ride him at an energetic pace, gasping each time his teeth nibble at your sensitive skin.

"That's it..." he starts to whisper between love bites, "sì, principessa, oh, pl- per favore, take your pleasure from me."

Kissing the top of his head, you sigh into his ear, "Touch me... Touch me, please, Terzo!"

"Sì, signora," he obliges, his middle finger finding your clit easily, "Sei bella, così bella. Veini per me, cum on me, tesoro."

"I'm gonna..." You bite your lip, "Ahh, cum with me, baby."

Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, and it has you seeing stars. Feeling you clench around his cock, Terzo, blissed out, bites down on your collarbone as he follows you over the edge, spilling into your perfect velvety walls. Pain mixed with pleasure somehow heightens the sensation futher for you; it's nothing short of a miracle you were able to ride you both through your climaxes.

Terzo collapses straight back and you right on top of him, exhausted. His arms come up to wrap around you, gently tracing shapes into your back. When you give a tired groan, he offers, "Dai, we should get you upstairs, you stay the night with me."

"Upstairs? You live here?" you mumble into the crook of his neck.

"Sì, ragazza stupida," he chuckles, "I own this place."

"Hey!" you sit up and see him pointing at something... the name plate from the desk, thrown across the floor reading 'Terzo Emeritus.' Glaring back down at him, you argue, "Well, I'm not stupid, or whatever you said."

He smiles up at you, softly. "It means 'silly,' amore mio."

"Oh... Well still..." you lower your voice to a near whisper, "I would like to spend the night with you."

He reaches up to stroke your cheek, "Okie dokie, then. Let's get these heels off."

[steaming-system-takes]

Well here's your first actually hot take:

The creation of this blog and the original call out post are symptoms of the holier-art-thou call-out mentality the system community is plagued with. Everyone jumps down your skin if you accidentally say even one thing a bit wrong.

I'm not defending those takes from pipinghot, the quality control was obviously shit. But the aggressive "agree with all my points or delete your blog" mentality kills discussion and has done nothing to actually correct the misinformation spread.

The call out post (like they all are) was just a bunch of angry ranting and ALSO DIDN'T CITE ANY SOURCES to correct the misinformation.

If you actually intend to do better than pipinghot, you should respond to misinformation with proper citations (no, "I've read the DSM" is not a citation) and let actual controveral community topics be discussed. Otherwise, it's only a matter of time before someone's calling you out next.

I'm not counting this as one of our tagged takes, because I don't think you understand what we made this blog for.

This blog is not meant to debunk misinformation, there are plenty of blogs out there made for that exact purpose. This blog is to spark discussion, yes, but we've already pointed out that this blog is NOT being used for us to dictate what's right and wrong as we ARE NOT a professional or expert on system topics (nor will we claim to be). The reason we don't post misinformation is because there is genuinely enough misinformation being posted on this site already. We refuse to spread misinformation in any way shape or form. Like I said, there are plenty of other blogs out there dedicated to collecting misinformation and debunking them if that's what you're looking for. We're here to offer people a place to discuss nuanced system topics, which misinformation has no place in. That is why we refuse to post anything containing misinformation.

As for the call out post regarding pipinghot, every point made in it was valid. The point of that post was to bring light to how pipinghot neglected to properly make sure they weren't posting things that harmed the system community. They posted genuinely harmful things, and refused to change anything to ensure it wouldn't happen again. That is a valid reason for people to be upset and angry, especially for those who were triggered by some of their posts. Pipinghot was not a blog for debunking misinformation either. Pipinghot posted blatant misinformation as if it should be considered within nuanced topics. That is harmful. Pipinghot did not combat misinformation with sources. They participated in spreading misinformation. As I've said, the call out post was made to hold them accountable for their actions. Not because they "disagreed with someone's point" or made a simple mistake. These mistakes were not small or mundane. They caused genuine harm, and that needs to be talked about. Making a genuine mistake and posting MULTIPLE "hot takes" that have triggered and upset people are two drastically different things.

We are not wasting our time bringing any attention to misinformation. That is not what we made this blog for. It is not our responsibility to educate others. That is their responsibility. What is our responsibility is making sure our blog's content doesn't contain misinformation and is not harmful to the community. That is all we're concerned about. We will offer explanations on things if we feel we have the ability to do so, and if not we will allow someone else to do so. Knowing what we do and don't want on our platform and being responsible with it is not comparable to posting racist and triggering things on a blog that is meant to be void of misinformation and harmful content.

Yours truly, Mod Green

[coldshrugs]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️ (hi azia love u)

hi ells!!! love you!!!! sorry this took so long, i was rolling things around and trying to get to a place where i liked my writing again. but i think i'm here now!

these are in no particular order btw. just some recent faves :>

♥ triple play | io/estinien (modern au)

Haurchefant met Io at a Spring Break party in freshman year, where he spent far too much of the night watching her quietly hold up the corners of some upperclassman’s rented condo. He felt like he knew everything there was to know about her right away, a symptom of that bright melancholy distinctly found in art school girls, like she was only waiting on fate to catch up to her. Maybe the reality of her was less interesting than his half-baked conclusion, but god, her smile. He was so nervous to talk to her.

♥ pang | io/estinien canon (pre-relationship)

His stomach tosses, and he admits something to himself for the first time: he wants to kiss her. Something he hasn’t done often, rare even in his most eager of dalliances. She was looking at him in the way she often does, like he could tell her anything and she would not flinch, and maybe that’s the problem. He can think about more than a kiss without losing his head. It is the straightforwardness of the intimacy he desires that sends him reeling, and already she affords him something close. So he ran. The urge has been growing for some time. They catch their breath after a battle, and she’s bruised and radiant, and he shoves it down. They carry out some mundane task and Io pulls her hair back from her face, and Estinien endures a calamity. How often has he busied his hands to keep them from the simple act of tugging her to him and embarrassing himself?

♥ mustering | io/estinien canon (pre-relationship)

Io smiles patiently. “Your brother?” His eyes fall to the leaf-covered ground and he nods. “He would walk our sheep into the fold from pasture. He named them all. Even if they already had one, he’d change them to something he liked better–insufferable, really. Anyway… when one went missing, he’d beg me to join him in the search, make me scour the fields and nearby forest with him until we found whichever young, or old, or lame sheep had wandered off alone, staring up at us with that look of relief. And I was a bit bigger than him, so I would carry it home while he doted on Flopsy, or Custard, or whatever the fuck he’d named them–” he feels his smile spreading as he shakes his head, and the vacuum in his heart surrounding Hamignant shrinks, just a little. “I suppose what I mean is, he still holds me accountable.”

♥ tiebreaker | io/estinien (modern au)

The city doesn’t slow around them. Flashes of sound and color leak into the dim room, painting the wall in shifting light that disappears between drowsy blinks. Io wonders how all those passersby in taxis and on the street can go on like before, unaware a faultline has moved under their feet. Don’t they know? Didn’t they feel it? The quiet breaks abruptly. “Io, I’m not,"—his rough voice wavers. He pauses. She can almost see him turning over the words in his mind—"very romantic, if I’m honest, but I could be good to you.” His head on her chest is the only thing keeping her in orbit. “You’ve always been good to me. If you’re asking me for something…” “I’m asking.”

♥ flood | io/estinien canon (mature) ↓

His lips return to her neck, and one hand travels the length of her back to twist the strap of the bra. “Tell me, where did you get this?” Io gulps, eyes falling closed at his touch through the sheer fabric. The pale lavender lace barely covers her chest and leaves her nipples artfully exposed. It is the last remaining piece from the matching set; the bottoms and garter belt have long been removed in a racy attempt to undress. Now he fucks her without obstruction, not that they would stop him in the first place. “Shtola sent it. A gift to celebrate my finally sleeping with someone after such a long–” Estinien thrusts, hard, chuckling at the timing– “long time. Though it appears to be for you more than me.” “Then I shall have to thank her when we next meet.” The next moan comes unbidden as the hand on her back wraps into her hair, tied into a messy tail, and pulls. A short, quick jerk, and she can see half his face now, flushed red and smirking. Once more, he tests her, waiting for her reaction. Io smiles at him. “More.”

[ereardon]

Friends Don't || Chapter 2

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late? 

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid] 

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, mention of doctors/illness/crashes, illusion to death, blood

WC: 2.1K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Got everything you need, Sunny?” 

You turned around. Bob was standing in the doorway to your room, wearing a pair of blue striped pajama pants and a white t-shirt that hung off his lean frame. You smiled and nodded. “Think I’m good for the night at least.” 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you crossed your bare legs and looked around the room. It was a mess. You were waiting on the rest of your stuff to get shipped from your Brooklyn apartment where you had been living for the last eight months, so all you had were the two suitcases that you’d taken on the plane, now spread out on the ground, their contents spilled across the hardwood floors. 

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said quietly. 

Bob tipped his head. “Don’t have to thank me, darlin’. It’s your house now, too.” 

It was a sweet little two bedroom house, only a fifteen minute drive from the beach. But it was sparsely decorated. Your room had just a bed and a dresser, no art, no rugs, no lamps. “What are your thoughts on letting me redecorate, in that case?” 

He laughed. “What, you don’t like my style?”

“Bachelor chic? You’re about one step above a 20-something guy in Bushwick who has his mattress on the floor so that he’s closer to the Earth but the reality is that he has fifty dollars in his bank account so when he asks you on a date he takes you to his sweaty roof in July and plays shitty guitar music and tries to mansplain to you the difference between IPA and other beers.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you haven’t actually met guys like that.” 

“Unfortunately, I’ve met every single kind of guy you could ever imagine.” 

“Well, if my options are Brooklyn douche or you redecorate, by all means Sunny, do whatever you’d like with the place. I’ll leave my credit card on the kitchen table.” 

You stood up and crossed the room. “No way. It’s on me. I want to do this for you. Make a nice house so one day you can have some lucky girl over and she won’t get the immediate ick when she sees that you still have gray sheets and brown towels.” 

“What’s wrong with gray sheets?” 

You shook your head. “Trust me, Bobby.” 

“Sure, honey,” he whispered. You took one step closer, wrapping your arms around him. Bob immediately folded you into an embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“I missed you so much,” you whispered. “Thank God you’re home safe.” 

“Were you worried about me, Sunny?” he asked quietly, his low voice rumbling.  

“I worry about you every fucking day,” you murmured into his chest. “When you’re flying and I don’t know where you are. When you’re on the ground somewhere far from wherever I am. All I can think about is the next time we’re going to talk. The next time I'll know for a fact that you’re safe. And then that call comes and I’m elated. But it has to end sometime, right? So when it ends, the second you hang up, I’m back to being worried about you.” 

Bob pulled away, his hands folded into yours. “You worry too much, Reid. I’m always gonna be here for you. Always have been.” 

How could he forget? There was a reason you were scared all the time. You had almost lost him to the skies once. 

You were living in San Francisco and Bob was stationed out of Lemoore. It was the closest the two of you had ever lived since you graduated, four years prior. 

That’s when you got the call. 

“Reid Coleman?” 

You sat up straight at your desk chair, looking out the window over Market Street. If you really craned your neck, you could see the Ferry Building. “This is.” 

“I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Robert Floyd has been in an accident. You were listed as his emergency contact.” 

“Oh my God,” you whispered, heart plummeting in your abdomen. “Is he OK?” 

“He’s sustained injuries, ma’am,” the person on the other end of the line said. 

You didn’t even register that the phone had fallen from your grasp until you heard it drop to the floor at your feet. You were out the door in a second, practically barreling down to the lobby of the building, fingers shaking as you tried to search for rental cars nearby. 

The three-and-a-half hour drive went by in an instant, and it was the longest car ride you had ever been on. Every single second all you could think of was the fact that Bob could have died out there. 

And that the last thing you might have said to him was that you hated him. 

By the time you arrived on base it was dark. You barreled through the hospital doors, panting as you made your way to the nurses station. “Robert Floyd?” you asked, panicked. 

“And you are?” 

“His emergency contact.” 

The nurse nodded. “Follow me.” 

You trailed after her down the hallway, the clacking of your high heels on the linoleum floor the only noise in the sterile hallway. 

She stopped in front of the door. “He’s intubated,” she warned you. “So he can’t speak.” 

You nodded and she opened the door. But you weren’t ready for what you saw. Bobby, lying there on the bed, with a thick clear tube sticking out of his throat and mouth, taped to his lips, the whirring sound of the machines as they kept him alive. The way he practically blended into the white linens of the bed he looked so pale and fragile. 

You collapsed onto a chair next to his bed, taking his hand, the one that didn’t have an IV in it, into yours, letting your salty tears fall onto his cold skin. 

“Bobby,” you whispered, voice thick with tears and pain. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, Bobby, come back to me.” 

He stayed in a coma for three days. You spent nearly every waking moment at his bedside, watching him with bated breath, waiting for some semblance of life to overtake him because the boy lying there in that hospital bed was not your best friend. He was a stranger. He didn't look or feel at all like the boy you had come to love over the last seven years.

And then, on the third day, you heard a familiar voice. 

“Sunny?” 

It was dry and scratchy. That morning the doctors had taken out the intubation and said he was awake, and you had rushed over from the hotel. There were tears in your eyes as you bolted through the doorway to where Bob was sitting up in bed, his glasses settled on his nose, a slow pinkness coming back to his rounded cheeks. 

You bent in half over the edge of the bed, sobs wracking your body, silent tears streaming down your face. Bob reached out one hand, softly patting your hair. “Honey, don’t cry.” 

You pulled away, looking up into his familiar blue eyes. He had looked so small before, and that had terrified you. He looked like himself again. Like the Bobby who had picked you up and carried you halfway across campus when you accidentally stepped on a rusted nail and had to go to the ER. He looked like the Bobby who had dared you to go into the caves in Vietnam even though you were terrified of small spaces. He looked like the Bobby that you loved with every cell in your body. 

He looked like your Bobby again. 

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered. 

“Never going to lose me, darlin’,” he murmured back. 

You sniffled, gripping his hand. 

Bob’s eyes widened after a moment. Then, “Wait. Where’s Denver?” 

You raised your eyes to him, unable to say it but knowing that they could convey what had happened without words, and watched as your best friend fell apart right in front of you. 

***

“OK Floyd, spill.” 

“Spill what?” Bob asked, tossing down a hand of cards. Payback laid his cards down. Two pair. He grabbed the pile of chips in the middle of the table and slid them closer, stacking them up with his own poker chips. 

“About Reid, Floyd,” Phoenix said, exasperated. “These two boneheads,” she pointed at Hangman and Rooster, “want to know if she’s fair game.” 

“Hey!” Coyote pouted. “So do I.” 

Bob shook his head as Fanboy dealt a new round of cards. “She’s not my girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“So we can ask her out,” Hangman was practically salivating. “Cause she’s hot as fuck.” 

Bob raised his head and glared at the blond. Hangman put his hands up in a defensive maneuver. 

“Woah, chill Floyd.” 

“She already turned you down, Bagman,” Phoenix chimed in. 

“She didn’t turn down Rooster,” Payback pointed out. “Or should I call him Chicken Man.” 

All eyes turned to Bradley, who took a sip of his beer. Then, “Never said I was gonna ask her out.” 

Bob sighed, trading in three cards from the five card draw. “Sunny is an adult,” he said. “She can do whatever she wants. So Rooster, if you want to ask her out, you’re free to. It’s up to her if she says yes or not.” 

Bradley nodded, tossing out one card, waiting for Fanboy to deal him a replacement. “Maybe I will.” 

Bob pursed his lips, grabbing for his beer glass, taking a chug and then slamming it down. He didn’t realize how forceful he was until the glass shattered on impact in his hand, sending beer rushing over the table and down the sides. Everyone jumped up in a panic. 

“Shit, baby on board, what the fuck?” Hangman called as he rushed to grab a roll of paper towels. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob shook his head. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Come here,” Phoenix said, grabbing his arm and tugging him into the kitchen. She held his hand over the sink, pulling out a small splinter of glass from his palm, running the bloody hand under water. She doused it in soap and he winced at the sting. 

“Thanks,” Bob said as Phoenix wrapped his hand in a clean dish towel in Hangman’s kitchen. 

She looked up at him, knowingly. “You can say no to them, you know.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Phoenix sighed. “Yes you do. Reid. You don’t want those idiots to touch her.”

Bob grimaced. “She’s a big girl. If she wants to go out with them, she can.” 

“Just admit it,” Phoenix said. “She is more than just your best friend.” 

Bob’s blue eyes bore into hers. “Sunny is, and always will be, the love of my life. I’m just not hers.” 

***

You looked through the sliding glass door to where Bob was carefully peeling an orange at the kitchen table, his eyes glued on the TV hanging over the mantle. 

“Ms. Coleman, have you found a new physician in the San Diego area? If not, I can recommend one to you. But it’s imperative that you go in for new scans immediately.” 

You sighed. “I’m working on it.” 

“Ms. Coleman.” The voice on the other end of the line was hard. “This is no joking matter.” 

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?” you hissed. 

“I’m going to email you a list of five physicians in the area.” 

“They’re going to say exactly what you said,” you whispered. 

“You need to get a second opinion. And either way, you need a local physician now that you’ve relocated.” 

“Fine,” you said. “Send me the names.” 

“Ms. Coleman?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Please make an appointment.” 

You clicked off the phone and slid open the door. Bob had moved to the couch, one arm slung over the low back. 

“Everything OK?” he asked. 

You nodded, walking around the edge of the couch and settling into the spot next to him. Without even thinking, you leaned into Bob’s side, letting his arm fall around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

“Sunny?” he asked softly. He read you like an open book. He could practically see the anxiety and tension radiating off of your skin. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile before resting your head against his thigh, lifting your feet onto the other end of the couch, lying down so that Bob’s hand was now firmly pressed against the dip in your side where your ribcage ended. 

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar smell, letting yourself relax, feeling your heart rate slow. 

“Everything is going to be fine,” you murmured.

Tag list: (or turn on notifications for my library @ereardonlibrary)

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@mygyn @storysimp @interstellarloneliness @bobfloydsbabe

[tswaney17]

Accidental Chemistry - Part 1: New Beginnings

This is dedicated to the incredible @duskwhisperer. Thank you, love, for sending me the idea for this fic and letting me run with it. 💜 I'm very excited to finally share this story with you all. I don't have set posting dates, but I'm hoping to dedicate more time to this fic after I finalize IDBTWY. Until then, I hope you enjoy this first part! 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: language

Word Count: 4,982

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

Azriel was sitting at Rhys and Feyre’s dining room table, feeling particularly suspicious as to why he had been invited over for dinner. It wasn’t that he never had dinner with them. It’s that usually, it wasn’t just him.

“How’s work, Az?” Feyre asked, spearing the asparagus on her plate.

He took a sip of his wine. “It’s good. I’ve finally filled the last tech position that’s been open so I have a full team now. She’s fitting in well and is super quick in picking up new information.”

“Does she have prior experience?”

“Not really. She’s a recent graduate and was looking for entry-level in the industry. To be honest, most places would’ve passed on her for the lack of experience, but I thought she could be molded into what we need while growing her skillset.”

Rhys smirked. “You put in the work and you get a long-term employee.”

He tipped his glass towards his brother. “Exactly.”

Feyre pushed her chair back. “Let me grab dessert,” she announced, noticing both men were finished with their main courses. She returned a few minutes later holding three plates with small, pastry-like cups filled with cream and covered in blueberries.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Lemon and blueberry verbena tarts,” she said like he had any idea what the fuck that meant.

Az eyed the dessert, taking a bite and letting the tartness from the lemon slide across his tongue before settling with the blueberry’s sweetness. His brows raised in surprise. It was good. Like really good. He glanced at the female sitting across from him. “Did you make this, Fey?”

She laughed, head tipping back. “Oh heavens no. My sister made it. Elain. You remember Elain, right?”

He shot her a puzzled look at the turn of questions. “Yeah, vaguely.” Lie.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Taglist: 

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Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[lixenn]

Crochet corner

It's time, my dear internet people! It's time for me to babble about one of my numerous hobbies. And as the title arleady suggests, it's creative in nature, involves copious amount of yarn and often robs my bank account at gunpoint.

Yes, it's crochet! My beloved! That one activity that I have neglected for the past... who knows how many months.

But! I'm back! And I'm here to share my projects and progress and just generally ramble about fiber arts.

I won't do this in any particular order. I will talk about current, past and future projects. I will most likely complain about my inability to count and read crochet patterns. If it's in my ability to do so I will also share the patterns and tutorials I used to make my stuff, in case any of you people want to join me in doing fiber arts. (Please keep in mind that some of my patterns are in German, so I will probably only share the english ones unless requested otherwise.)

Now, let's jump right in the yarn pool with my current project (@upsilambic I'm tagging you since you seemed interested in my crochet adventures)

Triangle scarf for my mum

So, here I was chilling in the yarn store, two skeins for my planned project (mesh gloves) already in hand after consulting with the store clerk, fully intending on just buying those and instantly leaving before all the fiber goodies seduce me into making another purchase.

My mum had other plans though since she was already inspecting some of the bags that where spread out on a table. Each bag contained a set amount of skeins in prepicked colours and a pattern on how to make certain items. My Mum was intrigued... the colours spoke to her... and yes, you might have already guessed, dear reader, we walked out of that store not only with my yarn but also with one of those bags. The pattern was for a crochet scarf and my mum asked me if I could make it for her. I took a look at manual and was confronted with the absolute gibberish in the form of an unfamiliar crochet pattern. My brain offered me the nostaligic tones of the old windows shut down noise in response, so naturally the answer to my mum's questions was yes. (The motto of any fiber artist: Fuck it we ball.)

Once again I talked to the delightful sales lady, asking questions about the pattern and she was a great help. Let it be known that yarn stores are fucking awesome! I have never been in a yarn store where people weren't kind and welcoming and sweet. It's like entering a different world, one full of peace, fluff and most importantly: yarn! A yarn store is one of my favourite places to be right next to a bookshop and my bed.

Anyways, we got my stuff and we got the additional stuff (that I thankfully didn't need to pay for 🫡👍🏼)

It did take me a lil bit to fully puzzle out the scarf pattern but with some trial and error (I needed to frog once because I forgot in which row I was and tired evening!Lix didn't write it down) I'm now in the game.

Here my current progress:

The colours are more intense irl but no matter.

I will need to weave in so many ends after finishing it, I'm already regretting all my life choices *traumatised stare into the distance*

Weaving in ends is one of my many evil foes and unfortunately I still haven't defeated that one yet (I doubt I ever will). Everytime I reach that step in my work I want to set myself on fire because after couple dozen times it really does get quite tedious. It also doesn't help that I still haven't found a method where you really can't see that you have weaved in the ends (and is also secure).

But this will be a concern for future Lix 👍🏼

I will continue to crochet and watch my Let's Player (Magemasher22 on Youtube and Twitch, yes I will namedrop him, I love this guy so fucking much. He's a gem) play Honkai Star Rail.

If anyone has any questions you know where to find me 🫡

[brodorokihousuke]

making an art archive blog, since I've realized a lot of the art i post are either sketches that end up unsaved, or are spread out weirdly on my devices... I just want a place to consistently look at all my AA art basically wahaha.

You can follow at @brodartrokihousuke, though keep in mind it will only be reposts of things here.

Would it be easier to have a blog that only posts art? mm, perhaps, but I like keeping this one as my everything account.

[iminyourbookshelf]

QSMP community positivity because the streamer awards made me so happy

(under the cut because it's going to be A LOT)

QSMP Digital Artist - Ate and left NO crumbs ever omg. The amount of detail, varying styles, and epic scenes are my favorite. The variety of art styles for QSMP artist is like just going to a buffet to browse and they're all special little dishes made with so much love.

QSMP Tradtional Artist - HOW CAN YOU DRAW/PAINT SOME OF THIS STUFF?? Watercolor paintings of QSMP bulids, notebook spreads with cute little details, the fact that you can draw traditionally at all. All so talented.

QSMP Beginner Artist - NEVER GET DISCOURAGED <33. Everyone was a beginner at some point and seeing people improve over time with their art is so cool. I consider myself still a beginner even though I've been drawing for a couple years now lol. There is still so much for me to learn, and the fact how kind the qsmp art community is makes me so happy. Keep improving, your art looks great <3

QSMP Fanfiction Authors - I don't know whether to compliment you or ask for my therapy payment (/lh). So many authors have ripped my heart out and left it out to dry and others are like a bucket of fluff and joy. I love both of these. The writing quality is genuinely amazing on so many of these. I love to visualize when reading and with all the details it's basically just watching a movie.

QSMP Web Weavers - You guys are AMAZING. Finding so many quotes, transcripts, fanarts, aesthetic photos, and being able to combine them in a way that represents characters so well is beautiful. Not to mention the fact how your able to put credits for everything in an easy to find way??? Perfect.

QSMP Moodboards/Stimboard makers - These are so cute aaaa. I love seeing them, all the little collections of photos or gifs of characters I like is very fun.

QSMP Poll Accounts - I LIVE for taking polls. It's just fun to have a place to put an opinion you had for yourself that you didn't know how to put unprompted on your own post. Seeing results after a while also makes me happy to see what as a general consensus the fandom is on.

QSMBLR and QSMPTWT users - Transferring information from one hellsite to the other, I admire anyone who can survive in the discourse trenches and come back with account updates.

QSMP Clip accounts - I love seeing silly clips of cubitos, and especially those with transcripts and translations. It's a lot of effort and I admire that. Gives me so much info I would've missed otherwise.

QSMP translators - As someone still currently learning the other languages, it is so helpful when people translate it. Sometimes your brain just hurts and you can only read your native language. Also anyone who translates things from English to other languages, yes please make it for other speakers.

QSMP Multi-Shippers - It's so fun to see these, yes give your cubito 7 different romantic/platonic partners. You guys collect ships like Pokémon and it is inspiring

QSMP Cosplayers - I respect cosplayers so much. The wigs, the makeup, the costume, the PROPS?? All take so much work it's amazing to see final products. I reccently tried making a scythe for one I want to do, and I was struggling. Y'all are so cool.

QSMP Character Analysis Posts - Keeping fanfiction accuracy and my personal view on characters as close to canon as possible. These help so much when I need to look for a character I haven't watched much and easy to read.

QSMP Livebloggers - Save me from losing track of lore when I'm busy. I swear some of you just never sleep (please do but thank you for information). The amount of stuff I can figure out from vague post of combined livebloggers makes it much easier to know what's happening. Most of my mutual liveblog a lot and it saves me so much time <3

QSMP Rebloggers - KEEPING THIS FANDOM ALIVE‼️‼️ Tumblrs algorithm is based on reblogs, accounts that are just lurkers rb stuff ily. Hell yeah man, take all the cool stuff and share it.

QSMP Animatics - Movie night exists because of you guys!! Sometimes you all make me want to sob violently or laugh till I can't breathe. The differences in each video is so fun to see. The effort in each one is just beautiful too, animatics are NOT easy.

QSMP Editors - The fact that people can take a cube game and turn into epic/sad/cute edits with a few clips, transitions, and audios astounds me. You guys are so cool and I love seeing them. Also the fanart edits are so sick, finding the best ones to match.

QSMP Fan Video Creators - Stuff like the Federation Welcoming Workers Video, that one cucrucho cereal video, things like that. Quality is usually amazing and all the unique takes or camera work is epic. Idk what else fits in this genre but I just wanted to mention it.

QSMP RP Accounts - Seeing other people's takes on characters are so interesting and fun to see. RP is a skill I need to work on and it's done pretty well with these accounts. The amount of detail y'all can put is insane.

QSMP OC creators - Cringe culture is dead, I love seeing people make their little characters interact with eachother based on the QSMP. Keep it up and pls share it.

QSMP 3D Animators/Modelers - I never expirence more joy than when I see a 3D model of a qsmp rat spinning around. Also any 3D animators your dedication is insane. I tried learning 3D animation once and that was a STRUGGLE.

QSMP Vod savers/YT summaries -Actual lifesavers, there is no way I could've been apart of this community without them. Watching a few videos a day about what happened on the server makes it easier for me to actually do other things. Also that one person who made a QSMP2023 summary in UNDER 10 minutes, you are insane and did such a great job.

QSMP Accounts in Different Languages - QSMPBLR is heavily more English speaking than other languages, and when people main tag with post in different languages it makes me so happy. This was the point of the server, to let people post in whatever language they wanted. It's also fun for me to practice and try to translate it for myself.

I tried to get everything but please add if you have anything <3

[loaflovesdoodling]

Okay, kind of a serious post here. Uh. I'm. Going to apologize beforehand for all the whining.

No, I am not leaving Tumblr just yet; it is my home and my first social media platform after Youtube. But I think I need to make it pretty clear here; my work is not reaching about anyone that I haven't already interacted with. And it is. Rather degrading to my own mental state, which is why I have been nearly non productive at all, not drawing, not posting, not finishing what I start, et cetera.

I've been using Instagram more, and the engagement there is so much better. Likes actually help content spread, and I've noticed most people do take the time to even leave little comments and share on their stories and all kinds of gestures that contribute to the artist themselves.

I may, just may, maybe, make another, completely art-focused and anonymous signature 'Loaf' account on Instagram and begin sharing my art on there. I'm not sure yet.

What I am, however, completely sure of, is that with less and less interaction on Tumblr, a site which, to my knowledge at least, was specifically built on art (and more ofc), I will eventually stop posting altogether. No, this is not some form of threat, it is an act of but simple acknowledgement and recognition. I'm simply beginning to lose motivation and willpower to make art.

I want anyone who's reading this to take this as a sign, and I'm gonna be raw and honest with what I'm going to say here:

If you don't want half of this site's art community dead in the matter of just a few years, you better start actually helping. Likes, although appreciated, do absolutely nothing.

Think of it as a plant. Does admiring the buds help them bloom faster? No. Does watering and checking on the plant regularly? Yes, it does help. And you're soon going to proudly look at yet another flower you have helped grow with your support.

I refuse to believe that half of the reblogs on my posts are reblog spams from my friends, the same 3-5 people who always share my work over and over to help me. The same 3-5 people who do thrice the amount of interactions they should engage in just to make up for what the average consumer should be doing, but doesn't instead.

I don't care if you think the art is ugly, I don't care if the artist maybe isn't skilled enough to you. This is a community built on mutual help and support. If we do not support eachother, it's going to crumble apart.

I know some people are going to say things along the lines of "if you're complaining why share it in the first place". I know. I won't shut you guys up, because your point is valid. But if we make art to share, and what we intend to share does not reach the intended receiver, then it'd be basically pointless altogether. That's why we need your help.

Either way, that would be all my worries out of my system. I apologize once again.

[yuseis-mindless-twaddle]

Cohesive List of Notable Layton Projects I'm Working On

I'm Yusei, mostly active on Discord as of late. I entered the Layton Fandom through the subreddit and have been spreading the plague that is me since then. Since I just set up this account, here's a cohesive list of my notable Layton-based works: 1. Professor Layton and the Dreadful Food Service (2023 - On-going)

Above is a video playthrough of the (currently broken) demo of the game. It contains 1 puzzle and some shotty concept art. Development on the game has progressed much since the demo, including new assets, more puzzles, and some storyboarded cutscenes. Current project status: On Hiatus. Team Enigma, College, and Calamity Witch Arianna have taken precedence over this specific fan game, but it will be returned to in time (breaks from school, usually).

2. Professor Layton and the Mansion of the Deathly Mirror: Reflected (202? - On-going)

I would like to make it known that this is not my endeavor alone. I'm the head programmer, but this is a group effort so please take a look at the other department heads -- their work is incredible, and I'm very proud to be part of a team with such pleasant folks. Together, we are Team Enigma! There's plans to make more games than just this, so keep an eye out for any news post-MotDM:RE.

Current Project Status: In development. It'll be a slow process but we're making good headway already. Look forward to updates as development progresses.

3. Calamity Witch Arianna Tetralogy (2024 - *anticipated* 2025)

Want to "play" it yourself? Check it out (supposedly it work on phones, too):

This is planned to be a four-part mini series about Arianna from Professor Layton and the Last Specter. The idea is that each new chapter gets progressively more complex (longer runtime, new features such as puzzles, more actual art from my end, etc.) -- chapter 1 is already out, but it's simply a visual novel for now. Puzzles and basic investigation have been coded for chapter 2, which is currently in development.

Current Project Status: In development. Essentially working on this when I have time and the energy. On scene two, thinking up puzzle ideas. Doing voice work, as well.

4. Coin Forager -- a Layton-community-lead hint coin finding game! (2024, like last week - hopefully as long as people want to submit entries)

Coin Forager is a fun little idea I had whilst browsing the Reddit-Discord. The idea is that whoever wants to can enter a photo they've taken from a place they feel like would have hint coins hidden around and I enter it into this little searching game. So far, we have 9 entries. Version 1.0.0 will be uploaded to itch once I get 20 submissions. Hint coins found through each location can unlock information about the area, such as the name of the place or a fun fact about it. Everyone is free to enter a location!

Current Project Status: Always in development. The goal is for this to be open for as long as I can. Folks will always be welcome to submit an entry, and I'll find the time to add it!

So that's it, for now, at least off the top of my head. Thanks for reading, and I'm sure there'll be many more projects to come in the future!