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xi-vz · 5 months ago

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Look at me back on my BS. HC—Shen Yuan looks like Mobei Jun.

•

Shen Yuan was a cute guy, at least his mom always said he was. He honestly didn’t care much for his looks. He was a teenage boy, and his interests lied with books, gaming, and trolling the comments section of the PIDW forums.

So maybe this whole thing was the forums fault?

Apparently Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was going to make his first ever public appearance at a convention—it was exciting stuff seeing as PIDW just received a live action TV deal. (Shen Yuan wondered if the TV show would be able to transform the utter garbage parts into gold.)

Shen Yuan, with the fervor only a true (anti) fan could muster, scrambled to get his hands on a convention ticket the moment they went on sale. His parents even encouraged him! Happy to see him excited for something other than the internet. Securing his place, he also entered the cosplay competition where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would be a judge. Because why not? When else would he get to dress like a xianxia character?

It took him a while to decide who he wanted to dress up as. Look, if it were up to Shen Yuan he’d have been Luo Binghe. But, one, he doubted he could pull it off. Two, there were probably going to be a ton of Luo Binghe’s.

“Be the ice king,” his younger sister suggested one evening while the two fo them were hanging out in Shen Yuan’s room. She was busy on her Switch while he was on his laptop.

“Mobei Jun?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah! You look like him.”

Which was untrue but whatever. Since he didn’t have any other ideas, he spent weeks (months) perfecting his costume, studying every detail from the illustrations and fan art.

(Shen Yuan learned how to sew for this costume!)

(And spent way too much money on commissioning what he couldn’t make.)

“You need to bulk up a bit,” his second older brother suggested one night. “I read some of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Mobei Jun isn’t a twig like you.”

“Ha, A-Yuan is more of a twink,” his eldest brother teased.

So…Shen Yuan began to work out. He still had a few months until the costume contest.

It was hard at first, but his doctor had been on board. Granted, Shen Yuan couldn’t really get buff within a few months, but he did wind up with the beginnings of abs, his shoulders broadened and his ass looked great. There were a bunch of girls (and some guys) who made eyes at him at school now. Not that Shen Yuan noticed. But, he did notice that for the first time in his 19 years, he felt healthy.

When the day of the convention finally arrived, Shen Yuan found himself subjected to his sister's meticulous and admittedly skilled hand. She styled his already long black hair, adding extensions to achieve the full, flowing mane of Mobei Jun. She also worked some magic with makeup, highlighting his naturally icy blue eyes, which he had always considered a genetic defect, but today they were his greatest asset.

When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. There stood Mobei Jun, the demon king, imposing and cold. Shen Yuan’s heart pounded with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as he made his way to the convention center. His siblings in tow, because they wanted to root for him. As embarrassing as that was.

Upon arrival, the crowd was bustling with anticipation. Shen Yuan attracted a lot of attention—both for his stunning costume and his uncanny resemblance to Mobei Jun. A lot of people called out “my king!” As he walked by them, his cloak billowing behind him.

Damn, he felt majestic as fuck.

As he stood before the judges—a voice actress, a manhua artist and Airplane himself—he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety.

That was until he saw Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And. Wow. Okay.

Airplane was younger than Shen Yuan thought. Maybe 20; handsome, which was so weird. Square-jawed, in great shape with his DanDaDan graphic tee stretched enticingly over his pecs and biceps. His hair was curly and kept in an attractive undercut. He wore glasses and had ear piercings and a lip piercing and dimples and a sleeve tattoo. What? What the fuck?

Was Shen Yuan experiencing heart palpitations?

Airplane looked exactly how Shen Yuan envisioned Luo Binghe to look.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's dark eyes widened in surprise and delight at seeing a Mobei Jun cosplay. It wasn’t done often, the king was not a fan favorite. But, his jaw dropped as he stared.

Something happened when Shen Yuan and Airplane's eyes met. A zing went up Shen Yuan's spine. Airplane stopped the contest then and there and declared Shen Yuan the winner while jokingly (not really) asking for his phone number. They did get to chat later, one-on-one, when Airplane began to sign autographs into books.

“Well, My King,” Airplane smiled at Shen Yuan, and there went his heart again! Which was bad, and meant that Shen Yuan probably needed to see a doctor. “What name shall I write out as the receiver of this book?”

“Um,” Shen Yuan’s brain scrambled. Did he give his name? Did he coyly say Mobei Jun? Ah, he didn’t know what he was doing! That was his only excuse as he blurted out, “Peerless Cucumber.”

Airplane froze.

Shen Yuan froze.

And then Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky began to laugh.

#now they should kiss #this will forever be my SQH HC #svsss #Shen Yuan #the scum villain's self saving system #svsss cumplane #modern cumplane #cumplane #Shang Qinghua #shen yuan appreciation #airplane shooting towards the sky #svsss mobei jun #svsss luo binghe #Mobei Jun #Luo Binghe #kind of #peerless cucumber

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ticifics · 6 months ago

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Hii sorry to bother 🥲🫶🏻

But If I can, I'd like to request Dave maybe with an insecure reader that used to be bullied back in school days and stuff.

Please decline or ignore this if you don't feel like writing or simply don't want to! I love your writings they're so comfy and sweet (If that makes sense?)!

Ty and stay safe and healthy !😽😽

I’m here. I’ll always be here

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: "Hey," he called once he was close enough, his voice soft, but full of concern. You stopped, raising your eyes to him, and what Dave saw was enough to make his chest tighten. Your eyes were shining in a way he knew meant tears were close, and there was something fragile about your expression, like a single word could make everything crumble.

Warnings: mention of bullying, anxiety, sensitive content - a bit of well-deserved revenge

A/N: ooh you are so sweet, thank you so much for the nice words. and you certainly don't bother, my dear. I hope you can enjoy it, and please stay safe and healthy too <333

The day was calm on campus, with students scattered across the lawn and the muffled sound of laughter and conversations in the background. You had just left the library a few minutes ago, balancing the books against your chest as you tried not to think about how busy the campus seemed at that time. You were planning to take a shortcut to the place you knew Dave would be. Just a few more minutes, and the comfort of his presence would dissipate any discomfort you felt.

But then it happened.

It was a quick bump, the kind of thing that could go unnoticed on a normal day. The impact was light, but it made one of your books slip and fall to the ground. You automatically bent down to pick it up, mumbling a hasty apology without even looking at the person.

"Ah, sorry," you started to say, but the voice that responded made the blood freeze in your veins.

"Well, look who’s here."

The voice was sweet, almost musical, but tinged with a note of malice you instantly recognized. That unmistakable tone that made your stomach churn. You slowly lifted your head, as if you could delay the inevitable.

It was her.

The nickname came to your mind before you could process the face in front of you. Sugar. That’s what she was known as, but the nickname never reflected her true nature. She wasn’t sweet. Not really. She was cruel in an almost elegant way, capable of turning insults into something that sounded like a compliment to anyone not paying attention.

Her smile widened when she saw your expression.

"Well, this is unexpected. You, here? Never imagined that... well, you know, that you’d be the type to actually make it somewhere."

Your heart began pounding in your chest. You tried to smile, to act as if it were any other encounter, as if her face wasn’t dragging up memories of every moment you wished you could disappear. You tried to walk past her, to keep going, but her hand lightly touched your arm, just enough to stop your steps.

"What’s the matter? Not even going to say 'hi' to an old friend?"

"I have to go," you murmured, your voice weak, barely audible. But she didn’t step back.

"Oh, don’t be like that! I mean, look at you!" She gestured dramatically, her eyes sliding over you as if she were evaluating a defective piece of art. "You’re so... different. Not that it’s bad, you know? But I can still tell, I guess. The same vibe, that... how can I put it? That insecure little thing. You can feel it from a distance, you know?"

You tried again, took a step back, but she followed the movement, leaning in slightly, like a predator sensing vulnerable prey.

"It’s funny, because I remember you always seemed so... out of place. I mean, I never thought you’d survive high school, let alone get here. It’s like a miracle, don’t you think?"

Her voice seemed to echo louder than it should have, drowning out the sounds of the campus around you. Each word seemed to pierce your mind directly, bringing images, voices, and laughter from the past you tried to bury.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn’t come. The air felt heavy, like the simple act of breathing required effort.

She laughed, a low, almost conspiratorial sound, as if sharing a secret with you. "Oh, don’t get so tense. I’m just joking, you know? That’s what I always liked about you, that... sensitivity. Makes you so easy to hit. Isn’t it fun? You get all nervous, like you’re about to explode any second."

You wanted to run. To escape. But your legs felt glued to the ground, and all you could do was press the books harder against your chest, as if that could create some kind of barrier between you.

"Well, I won’t bother you anymore with your... busy day or whatever you call your routine," she said, finally stepping away, but not without giving one last evaluative glance. "Just thought it was funny seeing you. Almost didn’t recognize you. But, you know, some things never change, huh?"

She walked away then, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and poisonous words in the air. And you stood there, paralyzed, trying to process what had just happened.

The weight of Sugar’s words still seemed to press against your chest as you finally forced your feet to move. The world around you was just a blurred smear of colors and muffled sounds, everything secondary to the echo of the memories crashing in like a violent wave.

The hallways of high school. The judgmental stares. The laughs that always seemed to follow you, even when you didn’t quite know what they were laughing at. The feeling of being small, invisible, and at the same time, far too exposed. It was a whirlwind you thought you’d overcome, but now it was back with full force, as if time had stood still.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep it together. Trying to remind yourself that that was the past, that you weren’t that person anymore. But the memories didn’t let up, and before you knew it, your eyes were misting over.

When you finally spotted Dave, he was standing near one of the campus benches, with Todd and Marty. They were laughing about something, and just seeing him there, in his relaxed and cheerful posture, made the weight on your shoulders lighten a little. Dave was the anchor that kept you steady, but even now, he seemed as distant as the rest of the world.

Dave noticed you before you could get too close, and his smile faded the moment he saw you. Something was wrong. He knew every detail about you — the way you walked, the slight curve of your shoulders when you were distracted, the way your lips curled into a nearly imperceptible smile when something pleased you. But now, each of those traits seemed erased.

Your steps were hesitant, almost staggered, as if you were carrying something far heavier than the books pressed against your chest. Your shoulders were stiff, and the way you avoided looking around said more than words ever could.

"I’ll be right back," Dave murmured to Todd and Marty, but didn’t wait for their response before heading straight toward you. He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to plan. He just knew he had to get to you.

"Hey," he called once he was close enough, his voice soft, but full of concern. You stopped, raising your eyes to him, and what Dave saw was enough to make his chest tighten. Your eyes were shining in a way he knew meant tears were close, and there was something fragile about your expression, like a single word could make everything crumble.

"Hey, what happened?" He took another step forward, reaching for your hand, but you shook your head, gripping the books tighter.

"It’s nothing," you said, your voice low, almost faded. It wasn’t how you normally spoke. It wasn’t you.

"It doesn’t sound like 'nothing,'" Dave replied, his voice firmer now. He put a hand on your shoulder, a light touch, but full of intention. "Please, talk to me. What happened?"

For a moment, you stayed silent, as if deciding what to do. And then, finally, you murmured, "I ran into someone... from high school."

The words hit him hard. Dave knew enough about your past to understand the weight that came with that. He didn’t know all the details — you still couldn’t talk about some things — but he knew enough to feel a quiet anger rise inside him.

"Who?" The question came quickly, almost automatically, before he could stop it. He needed to know.

"It doesn’t matter." Your answer came fast, and you looked away. "I just want to forget."

Dave took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He knew pushing you would only make things worse. But seeing you like this, so vulnerable, so distant from yourself, was unbearable.

"Okay," he said, softening his tone. "Okay. But let me help, at least. Let’s sit, alright? Just for a minute."

You hesitated, but eventually nodded, and Dave wasted no time. He found a bench a little farther away and guided you there. As soon as you sat down, he took one of your hands, interlacing his fingers with yours. It was a simple gesture, but it held so much meaning.

"If you want to talk, I’m here," he said, looking directly at you. "And if you don’t, that’s okay too. But just... let me stay with you now, okay?"

Dave kept his eyes fixed on you, feeling the weight of your silence like a wave about to crash. You were always so good at hiding what you felt, at masking the pain with small smiles or words that deflected attention. But now, there was no shield. It was just you, vulnerable and desperately trying to hold it together, even as everything around you seemed to crumble.

He squeezed your hand lightly, a silent reminder that he was there, that you didn’t have to carry that weight alone. "You don’t have to pretend with me," he said softly, his tone gentle, with no trace of judgment. "I’m here. Just let it happen."

You swallowed hard, your lips trembling as you tried to form a response that wouldn’t come. You didn’t want to break down, not there, not now. But his eyes were so warm, so full of love and understanding, that the knot in your throat became impossible to ignore.

"Dave..." Your voice finally came out, but it was almost a whisper, as fragile as you felt.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head slightly, as if he wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to speak unless you wanted to. And that was what broke down your defenses. All the effort to keep the tears at bay disappeared, and before you knew it, they were slipping freely down your face.

Dave moved in the same instant, leaning in to wrap you in a tight embrace. It was firm, protective, but in a way that spoke more than words ever could. He wanted you to feel safe, as if nothing and no one could hurt you while he was there.

"Shh... it’s okay," he murmured against the top of your head, his fingers gently brushing your back. "I’m here. I’ll always be here."

You clung to him as if he were the only solid thing in a crumbling world. Sobs came in waves, each one bringing to the surface pieces of the pain you had been repressing for so long. And Dave... he just held you, as if he could carry the weight of it all.

As he held you, Dave felt a silent anger growing in his chest. He rarely thought about the times he wore the Kick-Ass suit— it had been years since he hung up the mask, choosing to leave that chapter behind. But in that moment, he considered going back. Just for one night. Just long enough to find whoever had done this to you and make sure they understood what it felt like to experience fear, shame, and helplessness.

But at the same time, he knew that wouldn’t fix everything. What you needed now wasn’t vengeance. It was comfort. It was knowing that someone was there to hold you in the tough moments.

"You don’t have to carry this alone," he said, his voice still low but filled with conviction. He pulled back just enough to look at you, holding your face with both hands. "I know I can’t erase what happened, but I can help you move forward. We can do this together, okay?"

You looked at him, your eyes still glistening with tears, but there was something different now. A spark of relief, of hope. Dave saw it and felt his chest tighten in a different way—not with anger or sadness, but with love. Because that’s what he felt for you, so intense it sometimes felt impossible to put into words.

He gently wiped away a tear that slid down your cheek with his thumb, offering a small smile full of tenderness. "No matter what happened before, what matters is that now you have someone who isn’t going anywhere. Someone who believes in you."

Dave kept his thumb resting lightly against your cheek as his eyes remained locked on yours. It was as if he was trying to convey everything he felt—every bit of love, security, and certainty that you would never be alone again.

He leaned in a little more, their breaths nearly mingling. Then, with the utmost gentleness, he pressed his lips to your cheek where a tear still glimmered. It was a kiss as soft as a silent promise.

"This is to chase away what’s left of the bad," he said, a small smile, but full of sincerity, appearing at the corner of his lips.

You blinked a few times, surprised by the gesture, and although tears still threatened to fall, a faint smile began to form on your lips.

"You’re impossible, you know?" you murmured, your voice choked but with a hint of affection.

"I prefer ‘irresistible,’" Dave replied, tilting his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But I’ll take ‘impossible’ if that makes you smile."

He repeated the gesture, this time kissing another tear that slid slowly down the other side of your cheek. "One more, just to be sure," he added, feigning seriousness, but with a hidden smile in his voice.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, almost timid, as if you weren’t sure it was allowed to feel anything beyond pain in that moment. But to Dave, that sound was everything.

"Ah, there it is," he said, his smile now more evident. "The laugh I was waiting for. That’s what I was talking about."

You shook your head, a little incredulous, but the tension in your body began to ease. There was still a weight there, he could see, but the way your shoulders relaxed just a bit, how your eyes weren’t as watery anymore, made the world feel a little lighter for him too.

"Why do you do this?" you asked, your voice firmer now, but still filled with emotion. "Why do you... look at me like I’m the most important thing in the world?"

Dave shrugged, but his smile was so genuine it almost stole the breath from him. He held your face again with both hands, leaning in until your foreheads almost touched.

"Because you are," he replied simply, without hesitation for even a second.

The weight of those words felt like a comforting hug in your heart. You felt tears welling up again, but this time not from pain, but from relief, from the certainty that you were safe, that you were with someone who saw you exactly as you were—and loved you for it.

Dave chuckled softly at the return of your tears, but he didn’t mind. Instead, he continued his small ritual, kissing yet another tear that threatened to escape. "And this one’s just to remind you of that," he said, his voice as soft as a whisper.

"Dave..." you began, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

"Without ‘but,’ no doubts," he said, looking directly into your eyes. "You’re amazing. And I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you of that, even if you don’t believe it now. Especially if you don’t believe it now."

The smile that formed on your face was different this time. It was more genuine, more complete, and Dave felt his chest fill with warmth he couldn’t describe. To him, seeing you smile that way was like finally breathing after holding his breath for a long time.

He grasped your hands in his, holding them firmly but gently. "So, how about we head home? I’ll make popcorn, you pick the movie, and we’ll turn this day into a good memory. Sound good?"

You nodded slowly, the smile still on your face, and Dave felt that, even if the day had started in a storm, now the sun began to shine again.

A few days had passed since that moment when Dave had hugged you, and although the signs of sadness hadn’t completely disappeared, he could see how things were improving. Time, patience, and care were finally bringing back that version of you he had always admired—a lighter, freer, more you version.

But, like anyone with a good sense of justice running through their veins, Dave felt that something needed to be done. That silent anger still burned in his chest, and the desire to protect you from anything that could hurt you consumed him. So, he came up with an idea—a plan that made him reminisce about the old days.

And, of course, who better to help him with this than Mindy?

"I know I’m retired, but... I need your help with something," Dave said to her, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. He was more nervous than he’d like to admit.

Mindy looked at him with suspicion, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

"I just need your help finding the people who, well, did some... unpleasant things to my girlfriend. I want to teach them a lesson."

Mindy raised her eyebrows, a look on her face that clearly said ‘seriously?’ and let out an ironic laugh. "You want revenge? Because I’ve got a few things you’ll find pretty interesting."

"No deaths or dismemberment," Dave argued quickly. "Just something that sends a clear message to them. That they should stay away from her. Forever."

Mindy scoffed but couldn’t help smiling. "Fine. But you’re missing out on the chance to create something epic."

With her help, the mission was executed—nothing too flashy, but a clear and direct message, with a very Mindy touch. She was good at making things feel... uncomfortable, but no real harm was done. Dave had no doubt the message had been delivered.

When he finally got to the apartment he shared with you, he was exhausted but satisfied. The mission was complete. He leaned back on the couch with a satisfied smile, a look that mixed exhaustion with an almost childlike happiness.

You entered the room, immediately noticing the gleam in his eyes, the strange smile on his lips, as if he had just conquered something.

"Why are you smiling like that?" you asked, walking towards him. There was something mysterious in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place. "You look... happier than usual."

Dave stretched out his hand, an even wider smile on his face, and gently pulled you onto his lap, sitting you between his legs. He was visibly excited, almost like a kid who had just discovered something fun, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you warmly. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, but the intensity of the gesture was clear—he was happy, more than usual, and it showed in every movement.

You, still smiling, but now a little more curious, placed your hands on his face, stopping the kiss for a moment. Your eyes met, and the tone of your question was gentle, but with a hint of concern that didn’t go unnoticed.

"Dave..." you began. "What happened? What were you doing?"

"I was just taking care of some things," he replied softly, a smile on his lips.

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flawseer · 5 months ago

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Hey Flawseer, love your art. I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons for some of the supporting characters who aren't really tied to the school, like Chameleon, Icicle, Hailstorm, etc.

Headcanons for specifically those characters? Hm...

This isn't really a headcanon, more of a "this is implied but not outright stated" kind of thing, but Chameleon's childhood was the stuff of nightmares. He hatched with a physical deformity that prevented him from sleeping more than an hour at a time. Think about what that would be like, to never be able to rest, to be tired and exhausted every day.

Child Chameleon is also an interesting window into the darker aspects of Rainwing society. The books often portray their society as idyllic, something pure and optimistic, something to aspire to. But then they had this kid who was suffering in his body, who didn't develop the expected Rainwing traits properly, and they shunned him. Even sweet, lovable, couldn't-hurt-anyone Jambu calls him weird and off-putting for not being able to change colors. We don't know why Chameleon ended up exiled; maybe it was a malicious act or maybe Chameleon lashed out and had to be removed for being dangerous. But it definitely makes you wonder if there are any other skeletons in the Rainwings' closet.

None of this excuses any of the stunts he pulled later as an adult, especially not the emotional manipulation of his daughter. But thinking about his crappy childhood may help you understand how he ended up the way he did. I hope he can find some help.

Here's a picture of him I drew once. He probably has an official design by now, I don't know.

As for headcanons about Chameleon... I think he eats meat. His biology isn't really wired for it, so it tastes absolutely disgusting to him. But he does it anyway, because while he hates the taste of meat so much, he hates the idea of being a Rainwing several times more. So he puts up with it because he knows it is the least Rainwing-like thing you can do. In a strange way, it helps him cope.

For Icicle, I think it is interesting to note that we technically never see her under normal circumstances. She appears in Jade Mountain in book 6 and certainly leaves an impression, but it's easy to forget that everything she does, she does with the awareness that Scarlet currently has a proverbial knife to her brother's throat. Thus, we never get to see what present day Icicle is like when she is able to relax.

Headcanons... The books aren't clear on how or when Scarlet made first contact with her. It could have been in school, as Moonwatcher overhears. Personally, I think Scarlet actually contacted Icicle months prior to the school opening, and instructed Icicle to insert herself as a sleeper agent. I have trouble believing that immaculate Icicle would WANT to be cooped up underground in a dirty cave with a bunch of strangers several miles from home. I think Scarlet made her do it, and she then begged Queen Glacier to send her there, knowing full well she was gonna hate it. Winter then overheard her begging and begged to come along too.

This lends weight to the scene where Icicle finally breaks down in front of Winter. The part where she's her authentic self for the first time, crying and begging Winter not to let her fall asleep so the woman who has been tormenting her inside her own head for months can't tell her that she failed and that her brother is dead.

In the end, her brother is alive. But in trying to get him free, Icicle ruined her own life.

This one might be controversial, I don't know. While I do think Icicle served in the war, and she did definitely kill Mudwings while doing so, I don't think Icicle is the one who killed Crane. Sora insists it was her, but Umber and Marsh do not recognize her, and Mudwing siblings usually fight together, so they would have both been present during her death too.

I think the story becomes more meaningful if the trauma of war just ruined Sora to such an extent that she sees her sister's killer in every somewhat outspoken female Icewing. Then she ran into the library and confirmation-biased herself into believing her hunch by reading unverified essays on Icewing genetics. You know, the same library whose references on Mudwing physiology consist entirely of The Slug-like Qualities of the Mudwings. If Wisemind penned an examination of Icewing physiology too, one can probably imagine how reliable that one would be.

This kind of turns Sora and Icicle into tragic parallels. They are both children born into a war that took their innocence from them, and in the end it ruined them both.

For Hailstorm, I believe after the battle of Jade Mountain ended and Winter got banished, Hailstorm went back to the Ice Kingdom and lived with his mother Tundra for a while. Tundra took the death of her mate very badly and became embittered. She blamed everything bad that happened to their family on Winter, insisted that Winter caused the family to rot. Winter killed the Queen, Winter killed Narwhal, Winter, Winter, Winter, she should have smashed his egg when she had the chance. Hailstorm tried to get her out of the house, to stop talking and thinking about Winter, but nothing worked. She just had her mind set on hating this kid she'd been abusing since his hatching, insisting she gave him the world and he was ungrateful.

Eventually, Hailstorm just couldn't take this constant bleakness and hatred anymore. A few months ago Icewing tradition almost made him kill his little brother and he is just done with the Ice Kingdom. Completely disillusioned. Leave it all behind.

So he goes to Winter, and he starts to ask odd questions, like "If you had never found a way to turn me back from being Pyrite, would you still have loved me", and "If I was a Skywing, would you disown me?" Winter assures him that he will always love him, but starts to get worried about the questions.

Eventually, Hailstorm just flat-out states that he was actually kind of happy with himself as a female Skywing, not having to think about their messed up family and the stupid rankings all the time. He kept thinking about it through their mother's ramblings, how he felt in that body. He's figured out that he wants to go back to being Pyrite, just obviously without the brainwash-y parts. Winter doesn't entirely understand, but wants his brother/sister to be happy, and gives him/her his blessing.

And I guess there you have it. Some of my headcanons. Chameleon the meat eater, the absolute train-wreck that is Icicle's life with a side of Sora, and Hailstorm finds self-affirmation in exploring their gender identity after cutting their toxic mom out of their life.

#flawseer reply #wof chameleon #wof icicle #wof hailstorm #long post #long winded

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xamag-draws · 1 year ago

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BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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vintagerpg · 3 months ago

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Allen Koszowski is in A Lovecraftian Retrospective, but a couple years ago Centipede Press devoted an entire volume to his art, Dreams from the Dark Side (2022), as part of their Artist Series, and I thought it would be fun to cover it.

I met Allen K. (as I think of him, because that’s how he signs most of his work) at the 1993 NecronomiCon. He had a table covered with binders, each full of clear plastic sleeves containing prints, some standard sizes, some small, some large. He had stuff for all dollar amounts. In my memory, I spent hours poring through those binders. I bought at least three prints. One is very small and remains in a box of similarly odd-sized prints. The other two — a family portrait from Innsmouth and a view of Cthulhu — have been framed and on one of my walls ever since.

Looking through this book is a bit like reliving that time at that table at Necronomicon. There is so much. Rather than chronologically, pieces are grouped thematically, giant spiders with giant spiders, eyeball monsters with eyeball monsters. It’s neat to see Allen’s approach to similar subjects change across the years. It’s all stippled, which is impressively methodical. He works in a style I associate primarily with ’70s fanzines, developed in the wake of Virgil Finlay, King Stipple. A lot of Allen’s work reminds me of Stephen Fabian.

Another cool thing? Perhaps because of his origins in the fanzine scene, I get the distinct impression that Allen K. draws whatever the heck he wants. I recognize quite a few pieces that wound up on book covers — A Place Called Dagon leaps out, as do a couple Necronomicon Press catalog covers — but they mingle with super heroes, Star Trek characters, Harryhausen monsters, endless Lovecraftian entities. This book collects Allen K.’s art, but I think it is also a collection of the things he loves.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Allen Koszowski #Art #Centipede Press #Dream from the Dark Side

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simonsoys · 7 months ago

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A couple of years ago, just before the start of the pandemic, I started having panic attacks when I'd sit down to draw anything. I don't know why, but it came on suddenly and got worse the more I tried to fight it.

Eventually, I stopped forcing myself to try, but I still felt guilty for not being able to produce anything. It's weird when you spend most of your life as "the artsy person" and then it stops.

I felt like most of my value as a person came from what I was outputting. If I couldn't draw then what was I good for? If I were just better, worked harder, even enjoyed drawing more, then I could've made a career out of art and then I could like myself.

Honestly, the best thing I've done for myself after that started happening was letting it go and moving on to something else. I started gardening. I've been reading books a lot. I picked up bass guitar and joined a band.

Getting into music in particular made me realize how awful my attitude towards drawing had gotten. It feels like how drawing used to feel like to me, when I was a kid.

I've made so much progress in the last year since I started learning bass, and it's because I have a willingness to try difficult things and fail-- the act of doing it is fun.

I've met fun people, I've played gigs (which would've been unthinkable even a year ago), and I'm feeling a lot better about myself.

I have a well of curiosity driving me that's been missing for awhile. I'm seeking out social interactions with musicians who are better than me, whereas I had closed myself off from working with other artists because I never felt good enough.

And most importantly, I don't feel like if I fail, it's a reflection of myself as a human-- it's just part of the process. If I suck at it, who gives a shit? Participating has more value than perfection. If my feelings get ugly, I can move onto the next thing. There's more stuff in the world to experience than any of us can ever get to. It's fine if this is just one of them.

Since I've had that realization, I've been slowly able to draw again. I can recognize the destructive thoughts when they're happening, even if I can't fully stop them yet. It's been A LOT easier if I'm drawing something for someone else instead of myself.

I'm hoping in the next year I can get even more of the enjoyment back, but if not, I'll still be ok.

#no idea why I'm posting this but I've wanted to talk about it for awhile now #all this to say-- if you grow to hate the thing you do it's ok to stop or take a break #and re-experience the excitement and curiosity of a hobby that isn't tied to your self worth #forcing yourself to commit to something you hate feels like an inefficient use of time here on earth #like if it were a game you wouldn't put all your effort into a stat that had an active debuff on it #you'd focus on something else for awhile to take advantage of the boosted growth rate lol #tldr i touched grass and it was good for me #simon says a lot of things

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luvfy0dor · 1 year ago

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Heyy, I was thinking about a concept with Fyodor (or whoever from BSD) having a streamer bf, but like, one of -those- streamers where every word they say can be quite questionable (in a “good” way/ironically). For some reason it amuses me to imagine it with Fyodor and Reader occasionally teasing him, calling him their ‘discord kitten’ or streaming for 5 hours (or more lol) saying nonsenses or playing video games instead of paying attention to Fyodor. What do you think?

“Get Off The Game ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu

Warnings;

Description; BSD men with a streamer!reader

A/n; these are in headcannon form, I hope that's alright!!! I think Dazai or Nikolai would be a better person to have this occupation w so I also did headcannons for one of them

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor thinks it's stupid at first, but when he realized you made money from it he learned to tolerate it. He wasn't too fond of the noise, though.

• I don't think he was too fond of the nickname 'discord kitten', always raising an eyebrow when he's called that, he also strongly dislikes brainrot cause what do you mean you're so sigma? No you're not, you're y/n. That's unrelated, but I thought I'd add that in there.

• "A discord what? Kitten? What even is that? I am nothing of the such."

• Catch him dead before he makes an appearance on camera, he much prefers to keep his business private. He doesn't mind you talking about him though, he loves that. He loves that people know you're already taken by him and that all those losers in your chat don't have a chance with you.

• Sometimes he'll watch your streams from a different room in attempt to understand your work and the art of gaming. He enjoys when you play horror games, especially the ones that get you thinking. He sometimes finds your facial expressions when you get jumpscared funnier than anything else in the stream.

• When it comes to the duration of your streams, Fyodor can entertain himself for as long as you need him to, but he can't help but feel like he'd rather be spending that time with you every now and again.

• He usually just takes the time to work on his DOA stuff, and occasionally he'll get so lost in it that he doesn't even realized you've finished with your stream and whenever that happens, you make some tea and go to fetch him to spend some quality time together, whether it's you laying in his lap while you both read a book or having a conversation about whatever comes to mind

Dazai Osamu ★

• Dazai is your #1 supporter since day one. There's a conversation going on about content creators? He's immediately bringing you up. You need new items for your set up? He's manifesting that said items go on sale ASAP!

• Oh my god, and he LOVES it when you get recognized in public. He's very prideful of you and likes that it's only him and a select group of people that get to see the real you outside of the camera frame.

• He, unlike Fyodor, does have an issue with the long hours, so he busies himself with the ADA and otherwise to keep himself from walking in and talking your ear off while you play your games for umpteen thousand people.

• He doesn't despise being called a discord kitten, but it does confuse him a little bit. But whatever, as long as you have 'my' in front of any name he doesn't care.

• Dazai watches your old streams when he's bored and can't help but giggle at the out of pocket or questionable things you say. He likes to watch the compilations of you on YouTube, too.

• Sometimes he'll quote you out of the blue.

• He doesn't like people trying to flirt with you or talk to you on the Internet as any partner wouldn't, so he is in the comment section of every post reading through individual comments. Type guy to see '❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥' comments on your posts and reply '🧯🧯🧯'

• All in all, Dazai is well received by your fanbase, especially the ones who don't try to romance you and are normal. They think he's funny and a good match for you.

A/n; I hope it wasn't to short!!! I thought it was a cutsey idea, I think Nikolai would be pretty similar to Dazai in this scemario.

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measureyourlifeincake · 2 months ago

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just watched the first two eps of the new murderbot show and i'm still figuring out how i feel about it. i'm just gonna bullet point some thoughts/first impressions (under the cut bc spoilers)

despite my initial reservations about casting, i think skarsgård is doing a pretty brilliant job as murderbot

oddly enough, i do have some reservations about mensah's actor. her portrayal of the panic attacks didn't feel super believable to me, but to be fair it could just be because her panic attacks don't look like my panic attacks, and it's not like i make a habit of observing other people's panic attacks so idk. i do think she recovered more quickly than is realistic for an actual panic attack, but that's more of a writing/directing choice than an acting choice

overall, we're getting a much better sense of who the PresAux survey folks are as people than in All Systems Red, which is the correct call for a tv adaptation

i was surprised at how gurathin-heavy it's been, but i'm not mad at it. gurathin isn't really how i imagined him but i do really like the choices they made for him

specifically, the Eye Contact scene was soooo awkward, which i have mixed feelings about. like yes. this makes sense, we're getting a great sense of these characters and that's very well done but also hooo boy was it hard to watch

overall, it's a pretty jarring switch from being in mb's head all the time to, yknow, being in a visual medium where you can't be in a character's head in that way and i'm still getting used to it.

in re: that last point, i had mixed feelings about seeing stuff that murderbot can't see and thus getting information at a different rate than a book-reader would, but that shot of deltfall was delicious so i'm here for it

also mixed feelings about the pronoun-correction scene. having gurathin, the one who emphatically does not like murderbot, be the one to do the whole "it, not he," makes it seem like he's using it/it's pronouns to be a dick/emphasize that secunit isn't a person, rather than yknow. that it doesn't do the whole human gender thing. also it feels incongruous with the more expansive view of gender that exists in the world of the books for a character to default to he/him, even for a character with a body that most 21st-century humans would view as masculine. idk, i hope they explore the whole pronoun thing a little more, though i am worried considering that i've noticed cast members he/himming murderbot in interviews

a little skeptical of the portrayal of presaux as almost cartoonishly "silly hippies," though that could just be coming from mb's perspective in the corporation rim. i did find it pretty funny that they brought a cajon tho ngl

ok those are all the thoughts i can put words to atm, there's definitely something about the show that i feel like is rubbing me the wrong way but idk whether that's just the whiny little nerd baby in me going "wah wah they changed things when they adapted the story i like into a different medium! how dare they!" or if it's something actually legitimate i dislike. i definitely did like a lot of the choices they made and scenes they added, but there's just... something that feels off. maybe its just me tho. idk. i'll have to keep watching to see

my pettiest issue is that murderbot mentions watching worldhoppers despite the fact that it watches it for the first time with ART iirc, but i recognize that this is petty.

#murderbot #murderbot tv #murderbot tv show #murderbot apple tv #how tf are people tagging this #murderbot spoilers

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mrs-stans · 7 months ago

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Golden Globe Reactions

Jeremy Strong

It felt like much of Hollywood wouldn’t touch this film with a 10-foot pole. Were you surprised to see your name and Sebastian’s included today?

A 100-foot pole! I was incredibly surprised and gratified. I found it thrilling, especially Sebastian. You know, his work in this film is as good as any performance I’ve ever seen in a film – and I worked on “Lincoln.” I think it’s that good. For whatever reason, this moment that we’re in, of a reticence in our culture to go to places that are difficult or uncomfortable, or to touch the third rail — people just didn’t want to support this movie. It’s been a battle. Studios didn’t want to touch it. The streamers wouldn’t touch it. Even in the lead up to the election, I reached out to someone who runs one of the studios and said, “What do you think? Can we do this now that Trump has come out against the film and called us human scum?”

I think this film has a lot to say about this historical moment. I think it is capable of moving the needle, in an even infinitesimally small way. It can at least offer insight beyond a Wikipedia page or the way we get our information now. I was told, “It’s too hot.” It’s been dismaying. I was prepared for the movie to be left out of this part of the conversation, so today’s news was just really amazing. For the Globes to recognize this work, just on the grounds of its artistry, that’s been the real hard thing. Ali Abbasi is a visionary filmmaker, and he made a really fearless piece of art. I think this movie has as much in common with “Barry Lyndon” and “Boogie Nights” and “Midnight Cowboy” and “Mean Streets” and a Shakespeare play than it does with any kind of political diatribe. I think a lot of people still haven’t seen the film, because they have a preconception of what kind of film it is. It’s really not what you expect. I think it’s a very bold, an exciting film that also puts its finger on the pulse of where we are right now.

It’s certainly been talked about far more in a political light than in an artistic one. Of course, a Trump story is inherently political in this climate, but the film is really a character study.

We’ve been trying to get people to see the film. We don’t have a studio behind us. We don’t have a budget for any of these things. We can’t participate in some of these bellwether events that you have to pay to participate in. We’ve been excluded from awards things because the publications have not wanted to “support anything to do with Trump.” I feel a bit stupefied by it, because the truth is, if we’re talking about the art form of acting, this kind of stuff is the highest level of difficulty. What Sebastian did in this movie, the challenge that we both had, the size of the limb to go out on … this film exists in this moment that is difficult for people. Anthony Hopkins played Hannibal Lecter and Hitler, as well as Picasso and C.S. Lewis. For some reason, this film has been declared a no-fly zone.

It’s clear how much admiration you have for Sebastian and his work on this film. Have you spoken with him today?

We texted a bit. I’m just so happy for him. I mean, he was nominated twice today! He’s a heavyweight actor. My greatest hope is that today we’ll invite more people to see the film. If both of the lead performances are nominated for Globes, then surely it’s worth watching or just paying attention to. Maybe that will help reframe the conversation around the film, which has been slightly overlooked. If the role of storytelling is to hold a mirror up to nature, as he says in Hamlet, “to show the very age and body of the time its form and pressures,” I can’t think of something that does that more than this film. This is what we’re living through right now, and it is the past as prologue. Kai Bird wrote the “Oppenheimer” biography, and his next book is about Cohn. That alone speaks to how influential he is on this moment that we’re in. Sean Penn hosted a screening for Sebastian and I two weeks ago. Sean said, “Just wait, you’ll see, this film will have a second life.” I hope that’s the case.

#Sebastian Stan #Jeremy Strong #The Apprentice #mrs-stans #Golden Globes

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 2 years ago

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Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

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tiredfoxtf · 2 months ago

Text

I was drawing this and then I was visited by ocd demons and asked what people disliked about my art (that I totally didn’t need to know and think about) and I feel very discouraged from continuing to draw because it gives me anxiety so intense my stomach turns into knots. 👍

Anyway, yappage incoming, because this is an au idea.

Okay, everything started when Gri found his mysterious book while looking at cool furniture in antique store. Something about it called out to him almost to the point of hypnosis and without checking its contents first he goes to check out to ask about it. The owner does not recognize it and has no idea where he got it so he lets G have it for a low price. Grian quickly recognizes the value of the book when he gets home. It documented various types of ghosts, rituals and other notes. Grian quickly becomes obsessed with it and takes it to Impulse, who is, amongst other things believed in existence of supernatural since he was a kid. So naturally they have to try some rituals. Impulse calls Skizz for it too because he wants his buddy to be here for it too and Scar overhears about it and wanted to come with. The ritual works, the incident was not great, but that literally proves to them that the stuff in the book is no joke and that's how they start their own "supernatural gigs", which is mostly ghosts because the book had more information on them than anything. Gem gets dragged in by Grian because her van she uses for work (and where she lives when can't crash at someone's place or get a hotel room) is perfect to set up some of the tech Impulse made. Gem, of course, agrees but on several of her own conditions. They all agreed to keep it between them. Which meant they had to be secretive and lie to multiple people, but at least it was a coordinated lie.

It gets pretty casual fast: Skizz would research some urban legends, news, forums — anything that could have any hint of a ghost presence on site. And they would go there, Gem sits in the van and coordinates them Impulse and Skizz both work with the tech, Scar tries to get as much fun as he can and Grian with his book trying to understand what kind of ghost it is and how to stop it from haunting the place.

It also goes out of control pretty quickly. Besides the ghosts in the world exist demons, angels, vampires, shifters, witches, undead and other monsters. Sometimes their "ghost lead" is actually a witch ritual that they have to run from, sometimes it's ghouls and other undead presence for which Scar brings a gun and they still try somewhat to figure out how to send it in the afterlife too. But it's basically was just a question of time when they get their noses in too deep and find a vampire club where they proudly kill humans for fun or a succubus sex workers who drain human life out of them and suddenly ghosts and witches are the least of their problems.

I still have like a lot of miscellaneous thoughts, like the person Gem's looking for is Joel and she needs to find him. Etho kills vampires and demons. Witches and angels too if they cross the line in his opinion. Tango is not awakened witch, who is trying to live his life, but things just keep happening. Pearl, Mumbo and reluctantly Bdubs have their own investigation trying to find Joel by themselves, about which they don't tell giggs crew, but that gets them into so much shit too.

#> tired shitpost

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hircines-hunter · 1 month ago

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WIP Wednesday

Working on a few things at once. But decided to share some art I need to finished of my OC, M’Vi. She’s a werewolf kitty made to smooch Adusa! And some far future stuff for Estinan. That’s slowly getting closer and closer.

Tagged by @chiqita @umbracirrus @silly-little-diary @skyrim-forever @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @firefly-factory @sanzas-reverie @theoneandonlysemla @aureli-us

Gonna tag @mavariel @oblivions-dawn @yewphoric @pocket-vvardvark @sulphuricgrin @illumiera @bostoniangirl21 @kiir-do-faal-rahhe and anyone else who wants to participate ! No obligations or pressure (and feel free to tag me in your WIPs)

Estinan’s eyes fluttered open. She looked around. Her head throbbed. She watched the tent flutter in the strong wind. Her nostrils flared when she smelled a campfire. Poison. Food. She groaned, catching the attention of the person outside the tent.

“Go slowly. Thought I almost lost you there.”

Estinan shielded her eyes from the sun as the tent flap opened. Sun filtered across her face. A cold breeze brushed through the flap and seeped through the furs. “Wha…?” Estinan sat up, unbothered by her nudity. She looked at the bandages around her shoulder and the other around her stomach. “Mercer!” Her face and body planted into the furs as she tried to get up. Her body throbbed. Ached. She couldn’t move. She groaned.

“Easy! You…. You almost died. Between my poison, Mercer’s dagger, and your beast blood amplifying the effects for a few minutes. It at least slowed the bleeding….”

“You’re…. You are Karliah…?” She struggled to sit back up. She looked at the Dunmer. Estinan locked eyes with her purple ones.

“Aye.”

“The Guild would want you dead.”

“Mercer wants me dead. He’s the one that killed my Gallus. And pinned it on me after failing to kill me….” Karliah knelt inside the tent. “I wasn’t only in there to confront Mercer. I went to find Gallus’ journal.”

Estinan thought for a few minutes. She finally spoke. “Did you find it?”

Karliah nodded. “Aye. I did. But,” she sighed and pulled the small dusty, leatherbound book. She handed it to Estinan.

Estinan opened it carefully. She flipped gently through the pages. Precise scrawlings etched the paper. Not Dwermeris. Nor Ayliedoon. Nor Aldmeris. She shook her head. “I don’t recognize the language.”

Karliah let out a sigh. “Me either.”

“Is there anyone he trusted? Besides you. That would know what is written?”

The Dunmer tapped her chin as she thought. “You know…. He has someone in Winterhold. At the College. Enthir. If he is still there. He might know something.”

Estinan winced as she moved. She looked around the tent, finding her pack in the corner. “We should make haste then. Who knows what Mercer is doing.”

“He’s already done so much harm.” Karliah let out a sigh. “I can explain on the way. But let’s take it slow. You have been asleep for a few days. You probably need more sleep…. I can grab horses and come back here. You’re awake now. I don’t have to worry about you dying now.”

Estinan shook as she tried to crawl over to her pack. She collapsed under her weight and laid on the furs. A loud sigh left her lips. “I want to go back home….”

“Who knows what Mercer told the others. That you’re dead. Or betrayed them….”

Estinan’s heart stopped. She gripped the furs. Her vision blurred with hot tears. She cursed. Then she sobbed. “I…. He’s going to hurt my Bryn either way. Oh Brynjolf….” Estinan buried her face in the furs and cried.

Karliah felt a knot in her throat, understanding a similar pain. “At least you are alive. And we will get back to the Guild. Mercer will pay.”

#wip #fic wip #art wip #wip wednesday

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pdpenpals · 8 months ago

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Hiii could I get a love letter from pdh!vylad.

For context he’s sending it to his gf/ reader who he’s away from at the moment because he’s on vacation with his family and lost his phone or just wanted to write her a personal physical letter so it would never get lost in there text. She/her pronouns please.

hey, nonnie! this prompt’s pretty lovely, actually. i’ve always wanted to write to friends (and i suppose those who’ve set my heart ablaze) while traveling myself, letting them know what i’m thinking of, feeling, and seeing in the moment, but they all just end up as messages unsent that i hoard under my bed like a dragon, haha!

anyway, i’m hoping you find that this delivery does this ro’meave justice. i’ll be honest with you, i had the most fun making the envelope header accompanying this request. enjoy!

what promises to be a boring day is immediately taken back when the mailman pops up at your doorstep unexpectedly. he usually never shows up unless there are bills to be paid. the envelope looks and smells pretty old, but the date listed on its back indicates it was clearly made in the last week at the very least. a smile creeps onto your face when you recognize the handwriting, and you waste no time opening it up when you’re in the privacy of your own room, careful not to damage the stamp sealing it. it’s way too pretty to break, and you want to keep it.

not only is there a letter inside, but three laminated bookmarks. they contain real pressed flowers against a painted background. it’s a bit reminiscent of some art movement vylad mentioned before. art nouveau, was it? just like the rest of the materials used to make this letter, it appears to be pretty…antique. not that it’s a bad thing! it feels just like receiving a little time capsule, a blast from the past if you will.

but irene above, the more time you spend not reading, the more you miss him. you carefully unfold the paper and let your eyes glaze over the paper.

Hey!

Missed y (too desperate? hope you don't mind.)

Hope this reaches you as soon as it can. Did all the bookmarks make it in one piece? Do you like them? I’ve looked high and low through some pretty old catalogs to see where they came from and how much they sold for, but it would seem that they’re all individually handpainted and hand-pressed, therefore one of a kind.

I’m still quite bummed that I didn’t get a choice between going here or not during break. It was all so last minute! But I’ll be honest: O’Khasis is much prettier than I remember. What isn’t pretty is that Aunt Tilly (apparently she’s not our actual aunt? I guess we’re just used to calling her that.) absolutely insists that the place we spend our vacation at just happens to have no signal. Before, I absolutely wouldn’t have minded as there’s so much to do around here, but I can’t help but lie awake at night with the guilt eating at me thinking about how your messages must not be reaching my inbox. I’m sorry for not finding a way sooner. If anything, I didn’t quite expect the way this letter would find its way to you.

One thing you need to know is that up until yesterday, Aunt Tilly did not like me. At all. It kind of broke my heart a little as a kid because I didn’t know why. Now I can name a few reasons, but that’s not really what’s important right now. As usual, she would come with boxes full of stuff that she brought home from where she’s based abroad and let us pick what we wanted. There were a few old books and vintage clothes that interested me, but what caught my eye the most were the pressed flower bookmarks you got in this very envelope. And that’s just a fraction of them! You’d be amazed to see how many of them are in the collection.

Anyway, Aunt Tilly seemed reluctant to give them to me, even surprised to see that they were in the box in the first place. But ever since that, she’s warmed up to me, and it’s honestly much more terrifying than the times she’s barely acknowledged me. I should be upfront about it and ask her why soon. I suppose now should be the time to say that she even helped me pick out which flowers would be on the bookmarks I sent you. Says I should treat it like I’m actually picking out a bouquet or something. That woman takes her flowers seriously. At least now she knows she isn’t the only one in the family with an interest in floriography. She seemed even more delighted learning this letter was for a special someone, so she talked Mom and Dad into letting me have a few hours to myself in the town nearby just to have this letter delivered. I’m grateful to get a bonding experience with her out of this, but I really need to figure out what brought on this sudden change. Will definitely update you about it in another letter. This is quite fun, actually. Writing to you, pen on paper, feels way more personal, don’t you think?

Back to the bookmarks though, I’m not sure if you can read the text on them, but if I had to pick out a bouquet for you right now, I’d choose these three. Imagine the following with me now, will you? White clovers, balsamine, and pale red carnations. I don’t trust the Internet at the moment to be able to give you the exact message I want to convey, and I think it’s something better said in person.

I promise I’ll make things up to you when I get back soon. A date maybe? Please write back soon. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Yours evermore, V.R.

PS. In the future, we should definitely go on a proper sightseeing trip around O’Khasis. Just you and me. How does that sound?

#💌 — from the mailroom!#aphmau #aphblr #mystreet #mystreet x reader #phoenix drop high #phoenix drop high x reader #pdh x reader #mystreet vylad #pdh vylad #vylad ro'meave #vylad x reader #vylad ro'meave x reader #IN THE TRENCHES ACADS-WISE RN.......BUT AT LEAST I'M EATING GOOD!!#no beta we die like mcd aaron

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