#I’ve been going through a hard art block

[chowchulo]

Hawk tuha as the kids would say

[iamgonnagetyouback]

brushstrokes, sketches, and you

mattheo riddle x reader where he shows his drawing to you and only you

↬ word count : 922 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : extreme levels of fluff—may cause uncontrollable smiling

navigation┆mattheo riddle masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

Mattheo Riddle was nervous. Not the usual brooding, sharp-edged nervousness he could pass off with a smirk or a sarcastic remark, but real nervous. The kind that made his palms sweaty and his stomach churn as he paced in his studio like a caged animal.

You’d be here any minute. And when you arrive, you’d see it.

The painting.

It was a surprise, something he’d been working on for weeks—maybe even months, if he counted all the failed attempts and discarded sketches. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to do this. Maybe it was because you had this uncanny ability to make him feel like the best parts of himself weren’t as impossible to reach as he thought. Or maybe it was because he loved you, and you deserved to know just how much.

The sound of your voice broke through his anxious thoughts. “Matty? Are you in here?”

His heart leapt, and he scrambled to block the canvas. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Don’t—wait! Don’t look yet.”

You stepped into the doorway, your brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he countered, clearly acting very weird. “Just—close your eyes. Please?”

Your confusion softened into a smile, one that always managed to set him at ease. “Alright. But if this is some kind of prank—”

“It’s not a prank,” he said quickly, his voice quieter now.

With a small shrug, you closed your eyes, and Mattheo moved to guide you toward the painting. His hands lingered on your shoulders, steadying you—or maybe steadying himself.

“Love,” you said softly, stepping closer. “What’s going on?”

He held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Just… let me talk first.” He paused, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. “Do you remember that time we talked about... things we’re afraid of? Before we started dating?”

You nodded, a flash of the memory lighting up in your mind.

It had been late at night, the two of you sitting on the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling over the edge as the stars blinked down at you. Mattheo had been unusually quiet, his usual smirk replaced by something more vulnerable.

“What scares you the most?” you’d asked, nudging his shoulder.

He’d been quiet for a moment before answering, his voice barely above a whisper. “Letting people see the parts of me that actually matter. Like... my art. I’ve never shown anyone my paintings. Not even my parents.”

“Why not?” you’d asked, your heart aching for him.

He’d shrugged, staring out at the horizon. “Because it’s... mine. It’s the only thing that’s completely mine. And if someone doesn’t like it, then…” He’d trailed off, shaking his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

But it had mattered. You’d seen it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his voice wavered. And now, months later, he was standing in front of you, about to share that hidden part of himself.

“I remember,” you said, your voice soft.

Mattheo’s lips quirked up in a small, almost nervous smile. “Good. Because this… this is for you. Open your eyes.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and everything seemed to freeze.

“Oh,” you breathed, your hands flying to your mouth.

It was you.

Not the posed, polished version that mirrors reflect. This was you in stolen moments—the tilt of your head when you laughed too hard, the softness in your gaze when you looked at him, the curve of your lips when you whispered his name late at night. Every brushstroke sang of affection, of intimacy only he could see.

“Matt…” Your voice trembled, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “I, uh, wanted to make you something. Something that’s... not just words. I’m not great with that stuff. But this... this felt right.”

“You painted this?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged pink. “You’re the first person I’ve ever shown anything to. I don’t—usually—it’s just—”

“Mattheo.” You cut him off, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His dark eyes searched yours, still uncertain. “You really like it?”

“I love it,” you said, your voice firm and steady. “And I love you.”

The words seemed to wash over him, melting the tension from his shoulders. A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. “Yeah? You better. Took me forever to get your nose right.”

You laughed, and he swore it was a sound he could live on forever. Without thinking, you pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “For sharing this with me.”

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were the only thing tethering him to the ground. And in that moment, he realized it wasn’t just about the painting.

It was about you. It had always been about you.

“It’s beautiful,” you said against his chest. “You’re beautiful.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I didn’t paint me, love. I painted you.”

“Exactly,” you teased, tilting your head up to catch his lips in a kiss. “But you see me in ways no one else ever has. And I see you the same. You-You, honey, are incredible.”

He chuckled softly, the sound making you smile. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

“Thank you. For trusting me with this.”

His dark eyes softened, a rare vulnerability shining through. “Always,” he said simply.

[cupcakeslushie]

I’ve been debating on saying something because I have a lot of thoughts about this, but I just want to say a quick (maybe not so quick) thought…

“Comfort Character” is not a declaration of ownership. Just because you relate to a character deeply, and see yourself in them, does not mean you get to go around policing the stories that get told regarding them, or the how they’re depicted in said stories.

I wanna be clear. Im not saying you can’t pose genuine questions and have perfectly reasonable discussions about the intricacies of hard topics. In fact, fiction can even help make those discussions easier to digest by lowering the stakes, because there are not any actual stakes when none of it is real.

Unfortunately, I’ve been seeing the entire opposite. People taking stories that may make them “uncomfy”, and declaring that they’ve now decided they are taking it personally, to near obsessive levels. You are not the only one allowed to play with these characters. It is a huge sandbox, and these toys are mass produced enough for everyone to have their own doll to do with whatever they’d like.

I get you might see yourself in a character, but that doesn’t give you the right to go around sending death threats just because someone wrote, or drew your current blorbo in an unfavorable light. Prioritizing some cluster of lines and colors over the mental health and safety of actual real human beings, is worse than whatever fictional, moral “atrocity” that you think you’re championing against. You only end up sounding just like the people calling for book banning in schools.

You are not the character. You are not being hurt. The character is not even being hurt, because they do not in fact, exist to actually experience any of the pain creators are putting them through. And most importantly, you have no claim on how other people entertain themselves with said character. Because that is what these characters are. Entertainment. They can be used in good or bad stories. If you don’t like how a creator is using them. Move on. Don’t send death threats or attacks.

Block and filter your tags.

I have triggers, but that is my issue to control and maintain. It is appreciated when steps are taken by creators to help me avoid the things that trigger me, but I don’t wish death and pain on anyone who doesn’t view the world through the same lens as myself, and might not have considered my own personal feelings on the matter. My feelings of unease or anxiety from coming into contact with my own triggers, might be valid, but initiating an attack on a creator, because I took a personal offense to their story, is not. I do not outright assume that something was created with me and my tastes in mind.

Also, this is not aimed at any one person. This is a rampant issue that I have seen first hand, going back all the way to more than a year ago. I’ve seen it happen in multiple fandoms, but as I spend most of my time in the Rise fandom, that’s where I see the worst of it. I’ve received attacks, I know other creators have received attacks, and if this keeps up, creators will just stop wanting to share anything at all.

I also need to emphasize, I’m not mad. This is not a lashing out. This is just a frustrating and hurtful trend to constantly witness, when creators are putting their own heart, time, and energy into creating intriguing and complex works of all kinds in order to broaden the beauty of this fandom, and they’re getting anonymous messages to kill themselves.

Please think about the real life person behind the art and stories you are consuming, instead of prioritizing the fictional comfort of made up characters inside the story, that will in actuality, never have any opinions on what’s being done to them. Because they do not exist.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing. 

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face. 

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response. 

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail. 

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet. 

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it  falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face. 

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word. 

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze. 

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you. 

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?” 

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth. 

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two. 

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

Okay. I have a lot to explain. First:

Listen- I am REALLY sorry for not drawing a lot. For the last month (by this point it’s probably been a month), I’ve been really, really behind on drawing and TSAMS lore. I don’t really feel that I’m apart of the fandom anymore. I just lost all my energy to actually dedicate myself to the lore of the show. I feel exhausted. Plus, school isn’t helping. For the last two weeks it’s been kind of hard for me, I mean aside from my trip, but then I had to catch up on work then do 1 project. I had two tests today.

Art block is hitting hard and I hope you understand. I just feel like I want to draw, I have a lot of ideas, I just can never get a result I actually like. It’s a process of drawing and deleting all my progress. I feel like it’s either 1., I make too much art, which in turn exhausts me further, or 2., I don’t make art at all. I’ve just been lurking around Tumblr and going around, like “oh I’m so going to draw this”, but I’m realizing that I definitely do not have enough energy to draw anything TSBS right now.

My main focus at the moment is school and school only. I hope you understand this because I had a shit ton of late work I had to do from the days I missed while I was away (7 fucking pages), and I had to zoom through that, THEN I had the science test. I had my math test today and I did well and now I’m tired af. I just don’t feel like drawing in general, period. Coloring maybe, but I just have too many things to do OUTSIDE of drawing online on here. Basically this is just me taking a small break. I’m sorry that content may be slower on my account, but I feel like I need this or else I will eventually just actually pass out from the stress. No one did nothing wrong aside from me. I’m just torturing myself. My brain hurts and my sleep schedule is damaged. Planning events is NOT fun and every weekend, I seriously just want a break, but OH someone’s coming over or we’re doing something or we’re going somewhere. I seriously cannot take a break unless I have NOTHING TO DO, which is kind of impossible considering my mother’s plans.

I just don’t feel like drawing. I feel like I’m starting to sleep more early everyday. My mind is a mess. It hurts. It hurts.

I’m just so sorry about this. I hope you guys understand I may not be in the best mental state (even if I act like I’m not, and same at with school, @kiwikay3 …), and I don’t feel like drawing for a bit. Just expect me to give you updates once in a while and maybe that’s it. Just don’t expect a ton of content or doodles from me.

This problem has nothing to do with you guys, I just want you to know this and know what to expect from me from now on. I’ll catch up with all my art requests and things like that eventually, I just feel like school has taken a toll on me. On my health. But, just myself overall. I don’t want anyone to worry. I’ll probably be active less and less so it’s fine if you unfollow me or something because I feel like I’ve already failed you all, and I’ve already reached the peak of my art journey (mid-October or so). I’m so sorry but I feel like when I write these I just get so emotional and I can’t really describe any of it in words. I’m probably going to sleep after this before I actually start crying. I’m actually so annoyed and sad and I just feel so many emotions. My brother is not helping, because HE does not care about his physical health so me and my parents do instead.

Sorry. Thank you all.

I feel like I’m going to have a mental breakdown fuck i hate this

[cranberrymoons]

that old black magic

prompt: magic au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 rated: t tags: fortune telling, witch/appalachian eddie, post-season 2

welcome to Day 20 (!!!) of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The cards don’t actually do anything.

See, he waves his hand around and says some fancy words over some very old looking cards with very old looking art on them, and people assume that’s where the magic is – and the cards are old! And so is the art! But they just don’t actually do anything.

No, the magic sits in him. It always has. That’s always been the secret.

His mother had it, and his grandmother before her and her father before that and on and on, all the way back as far as the eye can see, right up the family tree to that one person at the top who made a deal with something in the woods one night, something as old as the hills themselves, that lurks behind trees and makes offers to desperate passing travelers.

But all that was hundreds of years before Eddie’s time. 

These days, there are psychics on TV and people who do tarot readings in over-perfumed salons while they sit on a throne made of cheap velvet and clatter around with their bracelets and bangles and shawls. There are people who read palms and sell incense and run little bookshops that sell mass-produced spellbooks. Crystals and incense and moon charts, the whole world awash in fake magic. All of it, all of it, noise.

But Eddie’s one of the rare real ones. He doesn’t exactly go around advertising it, but give him a set of cards and enough money? Sure, he’ll do a little fake fortune telling for you, maybe even give you a real answer or two, nudge something in the right direction so you feel like you got your money’s worth.

All that to say, the first time Steve Harrington finds him after class, one day right before winter break, and takes a furtive look over his shoulder, Eddie’s fully prepared to do the usual song and dance.

“Um, hey man,” Steve says in a low voice. “I heard you uh –” He clears his throat, shuts his eyes like he can’t actually look at Eddie as he says it. “That you can sort of see the future? Or tell people what’s going to happen or whatever.”

He opens his eyes, and Eddie studies him for a moment, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “And?”

Steve makes a face, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. “There’s some really weird shit going on,” he says, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “It’s kind of hard to explain but basically… there’s something that I really hope is over, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to ask or whatever but –” He lets out a breath. “Is it actually over?”

“Harrington, that’s –” Eddie shakes his head, running a hand back through his hair. “So fucking vague. How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Okay, just –” Steve lets out a breath. “If you could like… I don’t know, just give it a general look, see if I’m…”

As he continues rambling, Eddie tunes him out in favor of flipping through his timeline like a mental rolodex, just to see what he’s working with. Just to see what he can spin out of King Steve’s future, but –

“What the hell did you do?” he asks abruptly, cutting across Steve halfway through blabbering about something to do with someone named Justin or Dustin or – “There shouldn’t be blank spots, Harrington. Why do you have blank spots?”

Steve blinks at him. “I –” He frowns. “Blank spots?”

“Past and future, you’ve got these weird –” Eddie flaps a hand around in the air, lost for words, because – “Blank spots. I’ve never seen that before.”

Steve’s face goes blank with surprise. “Wait, like… you can actually see my future?” he asks. “Like right now, you’re seeing it? What are you seeing?”

“I’m… just –” 

Eddie shakes his head, shuts his eyes to block out the feedback loop his brain seems to be caught in, because alongside the blank spots – and there are blank spots; what the fuck – he keeps seeing himself standing with Steve, which must be his brain trying to fill in the weird gaps? 

Maybe? 

How the fuck is he supposed to know? He’s never seen anything like this before.

“Did something happen around Halloween?” he asks finally, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath. “That’s where the first gap is, and then the next one is in like… a year or two from now? It’s kind of hard to tell.”

Steve’s expression drops, and his shoulders slump. 

“The tunnels,” he says. “That’s – Halloween. I was in the tunnels at Halloween.” He says this as if it explains anything, but Eddie honestly feels twice as lost as he was thirty seconds ago. “So it’s going to happen again, then.”

Eddie makes a face, sort of aiming for – sympathetic? That seems like what Steve needs right now, probably.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re going to survive.” He shrugs. “There’s stuff after, a long life. I keep –” He takes a breath, considering not saying the rest, but Steve is going to ask for more details if he doesn’t. “I can’t really see a ton of it, because I think the blank spots are messing with me. I keep seeing myself there in your future stuff, but I’m sure my brain’s just filling in the gaps. It’s not like –”

“Like you’re part of my future.”

“Right,” Eddie says. He laughs. “Yeah, that would be –”

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a relieved little breath, and – sure. Fair enough. “Anyway, um – thanks, man. This is… not exactly good news, but I feel a little better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie echoes. “Uh– anytime.”

Steve starts like he’s just remembered, and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “How much do I–”

“No, just–” Eddie shakes his head. “No charge. Just get home safe, okay?”

Steve nods, smiling a little. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

[also on ao3]

[shakespearean-dream]

i would adore ur ted ideas he is so interesting 2 me!!!!!!

ask and you shall receive!!!!

ted. teddigan. theodoreigan my boy. i have so many mixed feelings about u💔

this drawing was a pain in the ASS to make for some reason?? my first go at him was way too close to canon for my liking so i threw myself out there n got to a place i liked thankfully, plus halfway through i forgot how to draw hands and almost cried (joking) cause i thought i had them down at this point!!!!— but trust me, even if you have 9 years of art experience (like me unfortunately. someone take me out i’ve had a good life) ur gonna forget the basics sometimes. warm yourself up and try again cause i did and i eventually remembered 😭😭😭

doing these character studies and drawings have seriously improved my way and process of drawing faces which is so nice 🥲 i think i just need to start looking at the bigger picture again so i don’t forget how to draw everything else. like hands. or full bodies. foreshadowing ;)

i wanted my ted to look just a wee bit unsettling because my general consensus of him is that he is totally fucked in the head, lmfao. born a nepotism baby who ended up scamming people more for fun than for actual cash, horribly sexist but dependent on women to validate him, paranoid as all get out, selfish and self centered as all get out, just his canon personality’s all in one and turned up a notch. 🥲

i don’t think he’s totally beyond redemption, especially because he’s been cooped up with ellen, who is a highly decorated in the engineering field black woman, benny who’s gay and gorr “FREEDOM FIGHTIN’ LIBERAL🇺🇸🦅🦅🔥🔥” ister for 109 years. in that time he’s definitely slipped up and they’ve definitely corrected him (along with nimdok too LOL). i think with some intensive therapy, a shower and a trip to the tolerance museum (south park reference) he’ll be a little better.

i’m a mild ted/AM shipper (as seen in the bottom right hand corner) but more in the “ooohehheh they’re flirting!!… oh no. oh this is not going to end well. this is definitely a toxic relationship” way and less the “awh cute maybe they can have mutual redemption arcs!!!” way because i love seeing gay men suffer romantically (don’t cancel me i am a bisexual man suffering romantically i swear😭)

i’m not too partial to any other ships honestly, ted/ellen makes me nauseous (just cause of the way ted talks about/treats her in the franchise, no hate to my tellen shippers i promise) and i can only see gorrister with his wife 🥲 with benny and nimdok i have no clue if either of them rlly have romantic interests but im not a fan of them with anybody so erm… i do love the whole groups found family vibes though :”””] they’re all cute together and the mutual suffering but all the while growth is comforting to me

i think that’s about all my thoughts!!! another thank you for the support on this blog recently i love yall sm. i’ll eventually post on my transformers blog but i am STILL SCARED because robots are hard to draw. stay tuned for it though. 💀

thank you for reading if you did!!! let me know which of the guys yall want me to do next; benny, AM and nimdok are left on the chopping block. ❤️

[twilghtkoo]

HI!!!! TOTALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!! but I wonder if I can request a haechan drabble where his s/o putted a lot of lipbalm on her lips and haechan said it'll go to waste so he'll kiss her and say he's sharing it with her. HSJSHSJSBSJSNSJNS

pairings. haechan x streamer!reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. shy haechan?? small make out sesh, mentions of zelda again bc i love zelda

notes. THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE??? thank u anon for requesting this ! i hope you enjoy this just as much as i did writing this one :D

haechan masterlist | main masterlist

-

“i blocked and muted anything related to zelda because i do not want spoilers!” you exclaim into your mic, mindlessly scrolling through your playlist on spotify to play another song.

user same i blocked and muted everything bc my game doesn’t get here til the twentieth

user same

user i like playing new games going in blind it’s exciting

“me too, i love it. even though the trailers and concept art drops give away a bit but not too much.” you agree to the last comment you read.

user how are you

user hiiii yn

user how long have u been streaming

user is haechan home?

“i’ve been streaming for two hours and thirty-eight minutes,” you answer. “and haechan is almost home actually!”

“oh let me show you guys my new wallpaper.” you excitedly say, minimizing your current windows, displaying your wallpaper to the viewers.

it’s just a screen capture of a scenery from one of your favorite game franchises, the legend of zelda twilight princess. an official illustration that shows link on his horse, epona, with the master sword in his hand, looking handsome as ever in his green tunic. princess zelda and the twilight princess in the background and wolf link in front. the colors are so pretty and you’re very proud of it.

user oh my god that’s so cool

user tp yessss

user who is that fine man

user that is fire

“that fine man is link–“

knock knock.

“who?” speaking of the devil. your favorite person walks in, staring at you quizzically with his work bag hanging off his shoulder. he looks absolutely ravenous and you want to thank his parents once again for giving birth to this man.

“hi babe!” you chirp, straightening your posture as you weakly hold out your arms in the air, waiting for him to walk into your embrace.

he cradled your head against his tummy, being careful of your headset. his hands move down to the area just below your ears, pulling you in for a kiss but you slyly dodge him. haechan rarely kisses you while you are streaming, he doesn’t like showing that in front of thousands of people. but he can get affectionate and touchy sometimes, so he’ll pull you towards him with his back facing the camera and blocking both of your lips.

“haechan’s home guys,” like it wasn’t that obvious…

you grab your tube of lip balm that was across your desk, quickly and evenly applying some to your lips. when you rub your lips together, it feels a bit thick but you try to ignore it.

he hums, “that’ll just go to waste, let me get some.” he cups your face again, pushing your chair with his knees to make room for him to stand in front of you. you instinctively place your hands on his waist from the sudden movements. he bends down, his face inching closer towards yours and it’s like your brain goes haywire because your lips quickly connects with his before you attempt to shove him away.

you know where this is going.

he lets out a whine, “kiss me.”

you giggle, your head is still in his hands. you try to look at your monitor, already forgetting you had a live audience. haechan noticed your concerns, he turns his body slightly to tap your mic, turning it off so viewers can’t hear anything.

“now kiss me.” he says impatiently, the corner of his lips curving upward in a smirk.

you roll your eyes before your eyes flutter close and you let him indulge. he takes his time kissing you, long and slow yet hard, and he’s smiling into the kiss.

“ok enough stingy,” you managed to say in between kisses.

you can feel your lip balm being smeared all over your lips and around, all sticky and uncomfortable.

he chuckles, he bite on your bottom lip gently pulling on the flesh as he pulls away slowly before resting his forehead onto yours. a familiar action that makes your thighs clench together.

“you’re calling me stingy when you weren’t gonna share,” he points back, ruffling your hair before he turns your mic back on.

you look at him once more. “aigoo, look at you!”

you grab his wrist before he manages to walk away, pulling him down so he can show his face. his lips are glistening from your make out session and his cheeks are all red.

he gasps when he sees his reflection, immediately straightening up so he’s out of frame.

user theyre so disgustingly cute

user i feel like we’re interrupting something even tho we were here first

user GET A ROOM

user in front of my sandwich too?

you cackle at his reaction, too distracted by him to be reading the comments. tapping the mic once again with your hand.

“look who’s shy when you were begging to kiss me in front of twelve thousand people.” you jokingly tease.

“yah! is it a crime to kiss my girlfriend?”

[sitp-recs]

hi! how are you?

so I read a fic some time ago that destroyed me…… like literally. I enjoyed it but at the same time I didn’t. but now I can’t stop thinking about it bc everything on it was so revolting and fucked. how to make a fic get out of our system? is it possible 😅 not to be dramatic but this fic almost made me lose interest in the whole ship lmao I just wanted to read something I enjoy again, you know? and nothing hits :( and when it does I’m almost finishing the fic and something horrible happens (that wasn’t really tagged) and I endure it until the end 💀 anyway if you have any fic that you read recently that is very romantic and monogamous or even if they are exes but they don’t date anyone else because they just can’t move on, pls share with us!! and it doesn’t have to be drarry, it can be anything. Im going through your lists and whole blog tbh looking for something that will save me lmaoooo I’ve read almost everything that interests me and you recced. (btw your break up make up list is amazing!) still I think the spark left me 🫠 ugh sorry for yapping

I’m sorry to hear that, anon :,( I think we’ve all been there at some point, god knows how many times I felt blocked, uninspired or just unable to connect to any fic. Personally, I find it helpful to take short breaks from fandom and focus on other hobbies for a while. Those fics will always be there when and if you’re ready to return! Also, imho you shouldn’t have to “endure” any fics that you find upsetting. I don’t typically have any triggers but I certainly have tropes/topics that don’t interest me much (or at all), and I have no qualms abandoning a fic when they show up unannounced 🤣

Now, it’s a bit hard to rec something randomly without knowing more about your fic tastes, but since you’re interested in romantic/monogamous stories, I thought I’d share some recs along those lines. This is a personal selection that might not work for you, but if it does I’ll be pleased to know that you’ve found that spark again :) Take care xo

Short fic:

Take the Moon by tackytiger (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 16k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

Us, in Lieu by Tepre (E, 29k)

Teddy needs help and Harry needs funding. Draco sits in the other room and plays the piano.

Long fic:

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid (E, 100k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

[shrimshrim4fun]

Random thing I’ve been thinking about is before you and Shalom started to date she would “stalk” interact with you a lot. She’ll note lots of things you like, hobbies, certain things you do everyday, etc. She probably even remember your period cycle before you guys start dating. I love this woman you don’t know how much I do 😭 But I present to you……

Dating Headcanons for Shalom

SFW

-Very dotting person and notes if you’re uncomfortable or anything. You can’t hide your emotions from her. Though her emotions are hard to tell. If you know her well enough you’ll see flicks in her eyes that somewhat can tell her emotions.

-She’s usually the one to drag you to social events and the one to step in front of you and protect you from people talking to you if you’re shy. She’ll usually tease about your shyness when you guys are going home.

-Her biggest ways of showing affection would be words of affirmation and physical touch in general. Her soothing voice is like honey as she holds you close to her. Hands running through your hair as you lay on her lap.

-In return she loves if you do stuff for her. As simple as planning a date or preparing a bath for her. Also gifts are a big thing for both of you. She has a special box dedicated to the gifts you get her. From handmade brackets to jewelry. She keeps them all. She especially loves the ones that she can wear or shaped as flowers….

-She would be very happy if you can keep flowers alive, because she can’t. But do not fret if you both can’t keep them alive she likes to the arts and crafts to make flowers out all sorts of things. She does them on her free time with you as she plays her record player in the background.

-Sometimes she’ll have nightmares about when she entered BR-002 and how got targeted by an Underground hitman which made her fall into a deep coma. Her body would slightly tense up and hug you tighter. She doesn’t say anything but you know that you shouldn’t pull away. You hug her tighter as if trying to give her some comfort as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

NSFW

-She is 100% a power bottom so she likes to be in control but still likes to get pleased. You go at the speed she likes and you obey what she tells you to do like a good girl.

-Her fingers are very nimble and slim also long so she can reach deep inside of you and make you cum within minutes.

-Quite big into body worshiping. She lays on the bed like the pillow princess she is as you run your fingers along her body. Moving across every crook and nook. Moving your hands down her curves as you murmur praises to her while make her shiver.

-The sounds she make is like music to your ears. Small moans as you please her boosts your ego a bit too much. So she sometimes will try to cut off her moans a bit or use her hand to block her moans just to make you huff; due to her blocking her beautiful sounds from you.

-Also loves it when she runs her hands through your body. You sudden gasps and sounds as she pry and touch at her spots on your body. Explores your body like it’s some type of puzzle that she will figure out. She’ll hum softly as she runs her fingers over your body.

-Into pet play. Having a custom collar around your neck. It’s red with a light hint of purple to it. It’s somewhat thick with a tag named Shalom on it. On the side is a golden ring which she can clip a collar onto. You’re on your knees between her legs as she tugs the collar up so you look at her.

-Her aftercare is also really nice. A nice bath with some candles on the side. Her record playing spinning as you lay against each other in the warm water. (Usually leads to another round) Likes running her hands through your hair as she murmurs what a good girl you were.

I love this woman so much 😭😭😭😭 I cannot express how much I love. I NEED her. I wasn’t playing during her banner so I’m saving up until she has a rerun (which is proabably gonna be around October) ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I want to write a self ship with her so bad 😞

[vnamps]

THE GRADE AID. 002

prev . | next

overall summary: lee min-ho, your absolute academic rival, an absolute menace needs help to raise his grade before the semester ends, and who better to ask for help than you, the grade aid.

overall contents: minho is cocky, a bunch of teasing, angst, fights, mentions of injuries, good ending, lowercase

The walls of the school building made the sounds your shoes created echo as you walked through the hallways. The school was over, and the only remaining students were in the different clubs and practicing club activities. After school was a calming time for you as you could always find yourself able to work on your hobbies in peace, like art. 

Art was something you had a big passion for, something you wanted to further explore but never had the chance to because of your family's financial situation. At this school, students were able to do what they’d like after school so long as it was appropriate which was amazing for you as you had free access to the one thing you loved very much, the one thing you took more seriously than your studies.

As you walked into the room, it appeared empty as you sat down by an easel containing the unfinished artwork you’d been working on for the past few weeks, frowning as your mind felt fuzzed on what to add next. 

“that looks nice” a voice spoke from behind you. It startled you as you turned around to see another student. He was tall and had long brunette hair that stopped before his shoulders. 

You nodded slowly, turning back around before sighing. “It’s missing something, I can’t figure out what though..” your voice trailed off as you began to think, his voice taking you out of a trance.

“Art block?” was a simple phrase, one that you related to all too well, one that caused you to nod once again. 

“It shouldn’t be much of a problem, maybe a good night's rest help you. Also, aren’t you a part of the student body? What are you doing in the art room at this time?”

“I needed to get my mind off something..”

He nodded again, taking in a chair next to you, implying that you should continue. You shouldn’t rant to a total stranger who indeed knew who you were but if it weren’t for that stranger you’d have no one. 

“do you know Lee Minho?” it was a stupid question really, anyone who attended the school knew the menace, even without him knowing them. 

The boy in front of you gave a small smile, nodding. “He’s..something” you hum in agreement, letting out a sigh before looking at your failure of a painting. “It’s just- he has… everything…  a good lifestyle, a stable one at that… he’s wealthy, people like him. I don’t- I don’t get why he’d wanna take the one good thing I have going for me, my stardom” 

He nods in understanding as you rant. “Maybe he’s jealous of you?”  

“Me? Why would he ever be jealous of me? He already has people who like him for who he is, I don’t.” 

The boy lets out a small breath, leaning it just an inch before grinning “I like you for who you are, you’re not very much like those other students”

“So you say… what’s your name?” 

“Y/n L/n”  

“Hwang Hyunjin, you?”

Minho sits at the table, a cup of coffee in his hands as he lets out a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it Jisung. They‘re taking away all I have”  Jisung looks attentively at the set of notes you had given Minho before looking up at the older boy with worry in his eyes. 

“How are they taking it from you, this amount of notes is insane, something you haven’t done.” Jisung questions, his eyes in disbelief.

“That’s the problem. Before they came, everyone paid attention to me. My father says if I can’t have a small school full of undeveloped teenagers' respect, how can I have the respect of the entire world.”

Jisung sighs “I don’t think it’s that deep. Besides, y/n comes from a small family who doesn’t have all of our luxuries. Wouldn’t it be fine to let them have this one small thing?”

“No. It’s not fine. I can’t have some- random person take away something I’ve worked hard for. They need to stop.” Minho stares into space, his head clouded in thought. 

Jisung glances over at Jeongin, looking at him with pleading eyes.  Jeongin looks up from his book, scoffing at the older two. 

“What am I meant to do? Tell him to date y/n and convince them to let him be top at everything?” 

Minhos eyes widened at that, a slight “ha” leaving his mouth as Jeongin looked at him, a slight regret in his eyes. 

“No no no, don’t think about doing that, it isn’t fair.” Jisung says, trying to talk him out of it.

“Since when was I fair?”

taglist :

@palindrome969 @rpwplost @valkyriexo @intrikatie @brainrotahahaha @turtledove824 @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa @ashxxgyu @linosalwayslinos 

[jetra4ivor]

3-4 of my posts regarding the Minecraft Movie have gone viral. And as someone who has never had a post go viral before I gotta say…

I do not like it.

Maybe on other websites it’s not a big deal, but here on tumblr it is a nightmare.

The biggest issue is that it’s really hard to filter the reblogs and be able to respond to things. If I’m like scrolling down through the reblogs to see what people are saying or writing, the SECOND a new reblog or like comes in tumblr INSTANTLY jumps me back up to the top. Because tumblr wants me to see that someone new is reblogging my posts.

And when you’re only dealing with 1 or 2 new reblogs or likes every few minutes or hours… not a problem.

But when it’s literally multiple times a SECOND? Omg… I can’t scroll down. I can’t keep up. It’s just CONSTANTLY snapping me back up to the top and I can’t scroll through anything and see what people are saying!!!

I was hoping after a few days it would slow down… BUT IT HASN’T. The only way I’ve been able to respond to anything lately is by manually finding the individual posts or reblogs themselves and scrolling through the comments there instead.

The second issue is that tumblr keeps your post as it was reblogged. Even if you edit the post later to fix a spelling or grammar mistake, tumblr keeps the incorrect version of the post if that was reblogged before you corrected things.

And for example, in one of the viral posts my phone auto corrected “Piglins” to “pigeons.” And I didn’t notice it at first until the post was well into being viral and someone pointed it out. But even after I corrected the mistake, it had been reblogged so many times now that the incorrect version is all anyone sees. So I’m still getting people telling me I wrote it wrong LONG after I already fixed it 😭

I post primarily about gay MCSM content. Specifically involving female Jessie and Petra. I don’t generally post about other Minecraft stuff, as I try to keep my blog focused on MCSM related content. I probably wouldn’t mind too much if going viral meant more people saw some of the gay MCSM content I reblog or talk about…

But none of the viral reblogging has transferred over into any of my other posts. Which is sad because one of the viral posts is about people talking about how good MCSM is. After nearly a decade of people talking down on MCSM it’s so fantastic to see so many people stepping up and defending it and saying it was good… but none of that positivity is spreading into any of my other posts about the game!

You guys actually liked MCSM? Please… come into the MCSM fandom! Inject your love of the game into this fandom! We NEED you here! We’ve felt so isolated and small! Where have you all been? Why won’t you join us here and create new art or talk about your favorite characters or moments?

Why hasn’t any of my viral success transferred into more fans of the game joining the MCSM community? 😭 It’s so gratifying to see the love of MCSM in the comments to the Minecraft Movie trailer… why isn’t that resulting in more people coming into the fandom on tumblr?

Don’t get me wrong… it’s nice that people liked some of my posts enough for them to go viral. But the way tumblr works makes going viral really difficult to deal with and I’m not seeing the cross pollination of MCSM fans into any of the OTHER posts I’ve made about MCSM!

I just want more people talking about the lesbian block people! You came here for the Minecraft Movie Trailer dissing… please stay for the lesbian block people!

[arlo-rose]

Guys I’ve been so busy this weekend but it’s finally my turn to make a long sappy fable thank you post :D

I’m not always the best with words, and I said a lot of this in the fan appreciation video already, but I wanted to put it all here too.

I first started watching fable smp in (I think)November of 2021, cause I found Sherbert and Heyhay through DSMP tiktok compilations on youtube, and saw they both streamed. Fable is the first time I’ve actually been part of a fandom community, and it’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me. My whole experience with the community has been so incredible, everyone is so kind and creative and excited about the story being told. I met people through fable who are now some of my best friends on earth, and even got to meet up with one of them irl! I never imagined an online friend group was something I could have but those people, and the wider fable community, helped get me through some of the worst times mentally that I’ve had in my life. 

Fable as a story is so incredible, I can’t even put into words all of the specific pieces that make it so amazing, but all of the characters, relationships, stories, side plots, and just silly hanging out in character streams are something I love so much. I’m having a hard time writing this rn cause I don’t want to leave out anything important but I don’t know how to say any of it.

One of the biggest things fable smp has done for me is giving me something to fuel my art. Before fable started, I was just starting to experiment with digital art, but had a ton of art block and no motivation to draw much anymore. Fable gave me a constant source of ideas for my art, and the responses I got when I posted my art(for the first time ever) helped so much in keeping that motivation. Having fans and cast members tell my how much they loved my art was incredible, and it eventually gave me the confidence to open up art commissions, which I had never thought was something I’d be able to do. My art was actually how I met my now friends, we started talking because we all loved eachother’s art, and it’s so wonderful to have a bunch of artist friends I can ask for advice, show wips, and just hang out on call while drawing with. Whenever I draw I almost always have a fable vod playing, there are so many comfort vods that no matter how long I draw for, I’ll never run out. 

I know other people have said this, but I want to say it for me too, just because fable is over doesn’t mean I’m gonna shut up about it :D. I have so many art ideas I haven’t done yet, and so many thoughts and feelings about this story that aren’t going away anytime soon. I’m gonna keep brainrotting about these characters for as long as my brain allows me to, and even after that I’ll look back on this story and community so so fondly. This is a story and fandom that I think I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life, and I thank you all for that.

There is a lot of other things I could say right now, but words are hard and I’ve had a very, very long weekend, so I’m gonna stop it here. I love fable smp so much, and I can’t wait to see what stories you all tell next <3

-arlo

[chimkin-samich]

Hi!

I have had a block for both writing and drawing for several years. I look at your works with longing in my eyes and think how wonderful it would be to draw regularly again. I was never particularly talented and had many gaps in learning to draw, but I enjoyed it. Now I don't know how to start drawing or writing. My laptop is full of unfinished stories. I have lots of ideas for drawings, but it's hard for me to get down to work.

Therefore, my question is: Do you have any advice for people who haven't drawn/written for several years and would really like to get back to it, but can't motivate themselves, have no ideas, etc.? Or quite the opposite. They have lots of ideas, but for some reason they can't draw anything?

Greetings and have a nice morning/day/evening/night!

Hello! Sorry it took so long to respond, I wanted to make sure I could respond properly to this so I thought it over a lot, I’m going to put it under a read more cuz it’s gonna get long lol

I (sly) am kinda in the same position as you at least when it comes more to art, writing ive kinda cracked the block but still trying to break through the ice, all the art on our blog is Ferals art, I only complete the line work and shading (but not always) I haven’t drawn any of my own stuff in probably a few years but I’m trying to get back into it cuz I miss it as well, I completely get the whole feeling of looking at Feral’s art and wanting to create my own but finding it so difficult to do

For the art aspect my plan is to start at square 1, start how I first starting drawing, which for me was to look up refs, animals and draw them by sight, just to get back into the groove of trying to bring back that muscle memory, maybe you started by tracing images, you could trace only the rough outlines and then shade and detail them, just something simply and easy, you probably won’t be happy with the results (I know I certainly won’t be with my own) but it’s a start

Look up things that you enjoy, draw your squad, incorrect quotes to do with ocs maybe even draw them out, try and keep it simple, you don’t need to create a masterpiece on the first day back, any attempt is a step forward even if you dislike it, try it out at least once a day everyday, a simple doodle just for fun or to exercise your muscle memory again, the first part is gonna be hard and messy, that’s totally ok! All that matters is the attempt!

For the writing aspect try and keep it simple as well, focus on making short one-shots or even just bullet point dialogues, your old unfinished writing isn’t going anywhere, when you feel comfortable enough to attempt to continue it just go for it!

I had a big gap in my writing periods and sometimes I still go a few months with out touching any of my stories, blocks happen and are normal, something that I try to get back into is read other people’s work, both to see the writing style and to get some inspiration to continue my own works

When I actually get down to actually writing my story I just dump down the story as I think it, I just keep writing even if it looks messy and grammatically incorrect to at least get the story moving and progressing. After I have the rough story down, is when I go back to correct spelling mistakes, add more details/dialogues or events in between to create a much better flow for the story

I usually do this multiple times for each fic I create, usually in between pauses (either due to blanking on ideas or just cuz I wasn’t feeling it) so whenever I reopen my doc, I just reread and add on, then I do it again one or two more times once it’s completed

I struggle a lot with perfectionism when it comes to my art and writing, and unfortunately it’s a big killer for my motivation, especially when I see others that make better works than me. I’ve been slowly unlearning that urge to make everything perfect, by just allowing myself to have messy and rough works, it’s not always going to come out how I want it but at least I got it as close as I could in the moment with my current skill level

I like to tell myself, the more I keep doing it, the more I’ll improve, and I’ll always be able to come back with more ideas and skill to remake this better than my first attempts, just because I did it doesn’t mean I can’t try to do it again

Being easier on yourself does wonders (I know easier said than done unfortunately 😭) but your practically having to relearn skills that have gotten rusty, even if you were doing great before, your gonna have to build back up to that point, it’s just like exercising a muscle ✨

I hope this was able to help! I wish you much luck in your journey back into art and writing!

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump collab day 27 - left for dead

...and partially day 23 and day 29 as well.

This one was suggested by @silvrash-797, though several other people also asked for Sky angst. I didn’t exactly follow your idea because I’ve got a few fics already in the works about what you specifically asked for, but I hope you like this :)

(And just to remind y’all where we’re at here, in the regular Incredibles movie, Syndrome (Dark Link) tricks supers to his island to test the robot he’s developing. In this au, Sky ends up being one of these people (and I’m writing a longer fic about how this happens, and it’s coming I promise XD))

Warnings: blood and injury, nearly drowning, an explosion, general peril... just some heavy stuff here. Hopeful ending though.

Today’s lovely art (coming soon :)

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“Well well well. Face to face again. It’s been quite a while, Loftwing.”

Sky glared, his chest still heaving with how hard he’d been running up until moments ago. Dark hovered above him, his boots emitting a soft light that somehow kept him suspended in midair, and the two machines at his sides blocked Sky’s escape route. A satisfied glint shone in Dark’s eyes as he stared down at him, one that made Sky feel more and more like a cornered animal.

He’d been trapped on this island more then a year, but he hadn’t been cornered this badly since the very first day.

Sky panted as he looked around for an way out, adrenaline pounding through his veins. Somehow he’d let himself be chased to the edge of a cliff, a steep drop into a gorge behind him with a river flowing far below. His wing was still too injured from a recent altercation to properly fly, and the drop was too tall for him to have any chance of survival if he fell.

He was trapped.

Dark smirked down at him, almost like he knew the thoughts running through Sky’s head, and Sky’s hands grew clammy as he continued to flick his eyes around, looking for a way out.

“It’s been, oh let’s see now... about three months since we last saw each other face-to-face?” Dark continued, humming thoughtfully as he watched Sky. “Something like that.”

“I’d prefer to go longer,” Sky croaked, his voice raspy from disuse. “Your face isn’t much to look at.”

Dark’s eye twitched, and Sky felt a flicker of satisfaction.

“Well it’s fortunate that this will be the last time we’ll ever meet, then,” Dark growled, and Sky let out a raspy chuckle.

“Oh I hope so. I’ve been praying for that for over a year now,” Sky said with a smile, but instead of making him madder like he expected, Dark’s face abruptly slipped into a malicious grin.

“Lucky for you, I have just the thing to make sure we truly never see each other again,” he sneered, setting a finger on his wrist. “And I’m afraid I have to prepare for a returning guest, so I don’t really have time to chat.”

Sky’s blood ran cold, his mind flashing back to Dark’s other ‘guests’. A handful of supers had been tricked here after Sky, but he himself was the only one who had survived, and he couldn’t watch anyone else die on this cursed island. Though Dark had said returning... that hadn’t happened at all since Sky had ended up here, as far as he knew.

“A pity, too,” Dark continued breezily. “As I recall, you and the Fierce Deity worked together fairly often.”

Sky’s blood turned to ice, but he didn’t have time to even properly think through Dark’s words before he pressed a button on his wrist.

Sky’s entire world froze, muscles seizing with energy he couldn’t escape. He felt himself being moved slowly up and far past the edge of the cliff, and his heart beat like a drum in his ears as he stared at Dark, seeing no pity in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Crimson Loftwing,” Dark said with a smile. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but I’m beyond glad to finally be rid of you.”

Dark released the energy.

Sky plummeted like a rock, a cry escaping him without his permission as Dark’s laughter flew past his ears. His wings tried to unfold on instinct, but his one was still injured, and both were weak from malnourishment and not nearly enough maintenance.

But Sky flung them out anyway, knowing it was his only chance. His eyes watered at the pain the action brought, but the tiny bit of steering his wings afforded managed to slow him down and get him to fall in the water instead of being dashed to pieces on the rocks nearby.

Not that it hurt any less when he plunged into the river.

Hitting the water was like slamming into a wall, and Sky blacked out for a moment as agony overwhelmed him. The pain and shock of being underwater jolted him back awake moments later, and Sky forced himself to focus through the panic screaming in his head.

He quickly pulled his wings close to himself, and tried to swim for the surface despite being battered by the current. Several rocks hit Sky as he tumbled down the river, desperately trying to hold his breath.

Air briefly met him as he surfaced with a gasp and a cough, but then he was plunged back under again, deeper than before.

Sky struggled furiously to free himself from the water, getting tossed by the current so much he could barely tell what was up from down. All of him ached, but he kept trying to swim anyway, fighting the current and the rocks he kept hitting.

He wasn’t going to die here, not now, not after more then a year of surviving by the skin of his teeth, fighting for survival and coming out alive after countless close calls before this.

Sky refused.

Then he saw something drift by in the water, something small, with a red light pulsing on it.

His panic tripled, and Sky struggled even harder, heart pounding in his ears as a burning feeling rippled up his wing and side. He knew exactly what it was he had seen, and he needed to get away now.

The river had widened though, and Sky was still far from shore. The current has lessened a little, bit he couldn’t really tell which way was up, and he struggled along, trying desperately to reach land.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach the shore though, and when a large rock caught his eye, he kicked towards it instead, praying the shelter would be enough.

He’d barely gotten behind it when he heard a piercing beep.

The explosion that came seconds later threw Sky backwards, and his world became nothing but a giant rush of water and heat and brightness.

Something slammed into him and he blacked out again, tasting blood in his mouth.

(...)

Consciousness came back slowly, accompanied by enough pain that Sky almost passed out again.

He choked out a shaking breath, thick and watery as some liquid spilled from his lips and dribbled down his chin. All Sky could do aside from that was lie there for a long time, trying to focus through the pain, water dripping off his face and pooling beneath him.

He finally managed to drag his eyes open, but almost immediately closed them again with a hiss, bright afternoon sunlight sending pain shooting through his skull.

The explosion had thrown him halfway out of the river, wings dragging behind him in the current. Sky thought he might’ve recognized where he was, but the brief glimpse he’d gotten wasn’t enough to be sure.

Though he wasn’t sure if he could even move yet, so it wasn’t like it mattered.

Sky drifted for a while, too exhausted to do much other than occasionally cough a bit of water up. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but the mere thought of moving made the pain seem to double.

So he stayed where he was. Lying on the riverbank, faintly shivering, wishing he was back home for the thousandth time since he’d gotten here.

A quiet beeping suddenly hit his ears, and Sky forced his eyes open again, blurry gaze landing on a flying machine that was scanning its way along the river. Fear jolted through him, and Sky sucked in a pained breath as he tried to get his battered body to listen to him.

Dark had obviously sent the robot to make sure the job was finished.

Get up, get up, you’ve survived this long you can do it longer get up—

Sky coughed, and despite every part of his body shrieking in protest, somehow dragged himself out of the water and behind a large tree by the riverbank, praying it would be enough to conceal him.

The beeping from the robot grew louder, the skywatcher buzzing right up by his tree. Sky could barely breathe, and felt his heart plunge into his stomach when he saw the feathers he’d left behind him, scattered along the ground.

If the skywatcher wasn’t already going to find him, it definitely would now, and Sky didn’t have any energy left to run.

This was it.

Sky wheezed softly, closing his eyes and thinking back to his wife and daughter as the skywatcher turned towards his hiding spot, red light scanning.

I’m sorry Zelda, I’m so—

An angry squawk pulled him out of his head, and Sky watched in surprise as one of the bright red parrots that lived on the island flew around the skywatcher, screeching in annoyance. Feathers fell from the bird, and Sky heard more cries as the drone buzzed around the tree.

A nest? he thought dizzily, then held his breath as the skywatcher scanned its light right towards the trunk where he was hiding.

The parrot swooped down in front of it again, joined by another as it cried out. Both birds began to peck angrily at the skywatcher’s underparts, avoiding its attempts to shoo them away. A beak hit a light, and something sparked as a parrot screeched. The machine jerked at the abuse, and the red light shook and glitched as it scanned right over Sky.

Then it paused, and made the negative chime that indicated it hasn’t found anything worth its time.

Sky would have collapsed with relief if he hadn’t already been on the ground, and the skywatcher finally moved on further downriver, the parrots letting out a few more angry squawks before returning to their nest.

Sky let out a hysterical croak.

I’m still alive.

Another wheezing giggle escaped him, and Sky closed his eyes, panting as the shock and pain started to catch up to him again. He knew he couldn’t stay where he was despite how exhausted he felt, even if all he wanted to do was pass out right now.

He’d gotten lucky, but he needed a spot to rest where he wouldn’t immediately be found by the next project Dark would inevitably send out.

Sky let himself rest for a few minutes more, then sighed thickly, bracing himself. Then slowly, agonizingly, he got to his feet, and began to stumble for his closest hiding spot. It was another stroke of luck that he’d been dumped relatively close to one of his most secure ones too, the entrance stealthy, and nearly impossible to find.

He usually only resorted to using it in emergencies, but this certainly counted as one.

Sky’s injured wing dragged behind him as he plodded along, feathers gathering more dirt and debris. Every step sent more pain jerking through him, and with every move he made, Sky wanted nothing more then to collapse back on the ground and stay there. But he knew if he stopped now he wouldn’t be able to get back up, and so he kept going.

Stumbling through the jungle. Nearly tripping on every root he walked past. Blood dripping behind him.

Still moving.

Sky almost didn’t realize it when he finally reached the entrance to the small caves he’d discovered a few months ago, his vision wobbling, and senses dulled. But then ferns brushed against his hips, and he stared, nearly crying when he realized he’d made it.

Blood stained the thin leaves as Sky pushed aside the ferns hiding the entrance, and he forced himself to crawl inside, his shaking growing more severe the longer he went. He didn’t remember it being such a long tunnel the last time he’d been in here, and it hadn’t been that long.

Right when Sky was starting to think he wouldn’t ever make it, the tunnel finally opened up into the larger spot he’d hidden in a few times now, a cozy alcove with a few precious supplies tucked inside. A small opening in the ceiling let in a thin shaft of light, and the spot in the corner that functioned reasonably well as a bed still had everything he’d put there to make it more comfortable.

Just seeing it made the last of Sky’s energy desert him, and he collapsed in the alcove, shivering with pain and cold, water and blood still dripping from his prone form. All he could do for a moment was breathe, thick and unsteady, and he coughed, liquid dripping from his lips he could only hope was just water.

Sky had had plenty of close calls while he’d been trapped here, brushes with the guardian robot Dark was developing, close encounters with his henchmen he’d barely managed to escape from, and the jungle itself lending its own dangers he’d had to avoid.

But he’d never come quite this close to death before.

Sky shivered, pulling his good wing around him as he closed his eyes.

His lungs ached from inhaling water, his body bruised and burning from the river and the explosion. His wings were barely functional, his mouth tasted like blood, and something had torn a gash right through his suit, more blood trickling from his chest.

And he was sure there were more injuries he wasn’t even registering at the moment, probably serious ones, but... he was alive.

And staying that way was all he had to do right now. Stay alive, heal, get his strength back. Then...

Try to stop Dark. Try to escape.

Do it all again.

Sky’s head ached, the pain in his middle increasing a bit, and he let out a shuddering breath as tears pricked at his eyes.

Endure, he thought weakly as he drifted off, pain the last thing he was aware of as something wet trailed down his cheek. Same as you have been. Endure.

Just hold on.

(...)

“...”

“Ledge, there’s... there’s someone over there.”

“What?”

“...”

“Ohh, I told you this was a bad idea... Following blood never leads to good things. I bet he’s one of those guys who were chasing us.”

“...”

“...No, he doesn’t look the same. I... I think he’s hurt, Legend.”

“How can you even tell, Roolie? He’s just lying... there...”

...

...

“SKY?!”

[mabelpodcast]

some (non-Mabel-related) news

I went to a bookstore.

It’s a beautiful bookstore, maybe one of the world’s perfect bookstores. It sells used and new books, and there are comfortable seats and beautifully-curated collections created by the people who work there, people who obviously love books, and there are nooks and crannies and secret rooms and areas for children and art and bathrooms and no one will bother you if you want to wander and read first chapters for three hours, which we did. I bought a signed copy of a Caitlín R Kieran book for four dollars. I loved being there.

I also hated being there. This bookstore is Instagram famous. A solid fifty percent of the customers were influencers. They blocked aisles to stage photos. They pretended to read in the most aesthetic poses, with books whose covers complimented their outfits. There was an entire section of the store dedicated to “Book-Tok faves”. I tried to read some of these books, and found them unilaterally depressing - not because of their subject matter, or even because of their shocking lack of copyediting, but because of the clear and heartbreaking hoops each and every author so obviously had to jump through in order to sell their work. The game, as my wife put it, they all had to play. Social media. Followers and likes. The cultural capitol of diversity points. The apologism for lack thereof.

For the past year I have been writing romance novels. I’m going to be painfully honest about the three reasons I’ve been doing so: first, because I’m good at it (I’m a fast, skilled writer); second, because I like romance novels; and third, because I wanted money. I believe in the sanctity of art but also in the bills I have to pay. I wrote these books in a way that meant I would not be ashamed of them, nor of my attachment to them. They are not deeply, religiously personal, like HETTIE AND THE GHOST, but they are about flawed and damaged people trying as hard as they can to find one another, and that is a story-arc I will always stand behind. Also? They are funny. And I write good sex scenes. They are good books.

For the past three months I have been working towards publishing them. It’s been going well. I have had some meetings. Of the twelve literary agents I queried, three have offered representation. I have enough familiarity with the publishing industry to understand what this means: my work is considered marketable enough that I could, with a lot of work but with definite feasibility, make a career from these novels.

Here’s the problem. It’s come to my attention that I hate this industry. I hate the pandering, the reduction of story down to audiences and trends. I hate the “elevator pitch”, I hate the lack of ethics and environmental consideration in printing mass quantities of books, I hate advertising and marketing myself and making sure that I am palatable - just queer enough, just marginalized enough - to sell rather than put off. I hate participating in a system that I fundamentally despise; I came up with Cantrap Press’s barter system because I hate it. On a long journey home at night, surrounded by suburban sprawl, I realised that I couldn’t make this my career. It would drive me insane. These stories will not change the world but all stories are alive and to pinch and snip them into shapes palatable enough so a Big Publishing Company can successfully pimp them to a world of Book-Tok influencers sounds, to me, like a living nightmare. I won’t do it.

But: I have another problem. I do believe with all my heart that art should be accessible. At the same time, I also believe with all my heart that artists should be fairly compensated for their work. Running a small press is a wonderful and worthwhile endeavor, but it is a labour of love, like putting out a podcast entirely for free. It’s also a labour of money, and the rising costs involved mean that I wouldn’t break close to even if I were to print these books myself.

So what’s the solution? Here’s mine. I’m giving them away. I’ve done this before, and it felt like the purest form of myself. The books will be, always, entirely free to whoever wants them, under the domain of a Creative Commons License. There will be a donation button. You can pay what you like for them, pay what you think they’re worth, pay what you can afford, or pay nothing at all. No pressure. No judgement. My barter policy will apply to these, too, if you want to compensate me but don’t have the funds. I’ve come to terms with the fact that refusing to play the game means I’ll never make a lot of money from these books. I may not make any at all. But these are my beliefs. I have to abide by them. I’ll be able to look myself in the eye; you’ll get fun fiction for free.

In a post-apocalyptic society maybe I’d be riding a donkey around the countryside telling stories, and you’d repay me for my skills by making sure I had enough turnips and deer jerky and tinder and donkey medicine. Instead I’m a person who lives in a house with electricity and gas bills. The farmers I buy my vegetables from at the market deserve to be repaid for those vegetables and the weight of labour, capitol and resources they represent. I don’t resent anyone for their participation in the system. I resent the ever-tightening ropes around us all. The ways we are tracked and compelled and sold to, the advertisements masquerading as entertainment, and worse, as art, how it seems we are being moved increasingly towards a model of consumption as definition, but only under very specific umbrellas - four companies own all stories, now what will you buy to define yourself by their characters and worlds? If I choose not to participate, no company can own my stories. And now, neither can you.

Introducing Anarchic Candy.

And my first book to be released, COMEBACK.

PS: in a twist of fate that, as my wife put it, would be completely unbelievable if it appeared in a story, one of the agents who enthusiastically offered representation also represents the author of one of those Book-Tok-famous books I saw at the used bookstore. This didn’t make up my mind (I’d already made up my mind before that agent even contacted me) but it’s an ironic coincidence I really can’t ignore.