#If anyone wants more of this style just throw a message of 'do-it' into my inbox

[hoshifighting]

ask translation: today's rant, girls, i can't get it out of my head that jeonghan is totally that "friend" who sends you a message a second after you remove the @ of your last relationship from your bio. "baby, I saw that you deleted his @, did something happen? Is everything okay? you know you can talk about anything with your hannie, right?" "wow, what an jerk, do you want to come over today, princess?" WARNINGS: smut, fingering, doggy-style, friend!jeonghan, recent break-up

PORTUGUESE VERSION

it’s a matter of seconds. you barely take his @ out of your bio, and the “ding” from your phone already notifies you. guess who? that’s right—jeonghan. and you know exactly what he’s going to say before you even open the message. it’s almost automatic; his timing is so damn perfect that you almost think he’s been stalking your profile, waiting for the smallest slip-up, a little sign.

“hey, baby,” he starts, casual as ever, “saw you took his name out of your bio… something happened?” you read it and can practically see his smug little smile while he’s typing, just loving the drama. “tsk, motherfucker,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re laughing. then he follows up: “you know you can tell your hannie anything, right?”

you roll your eyes, but ignoring him? impossible. the next message doesn’t even let you hesitate.

“god, what an idiot. wanna come over tonight, princess? got that wine you love…”

and there he’s got you. he knows it. he knows that the “heart-to-heart” is just a flimsy excuse, you know what he wants, and that “motherfucker” you muttered? already forgotten. the worst part is you don’t even resist. you’re already texting back before you can think twice:

“give me fifteen. actually have the wine, or i’m out,” you shoot back, adding that little side-eye emoji he always teases you for.

not even five seconds later, he replies: “bet.”

at his place, things start slow—he hands you the glass and goes, “spill it all, babe.” you actually try talking about your ex, maybe add some drama for effect… but he cuts you off, saying he doesn’t wanna hear about that “loser,” and before you know it, the conversation’s become something else entirely. he teases you, like always, and it doesn’t take long before that “friendly” vibe slips into something much more serious.

the wine might as well have gone straight between your legs. minutes later, jeonghan’s there, face buried between your thighs, his mouth working over the wet clit while he keeps his eyes locked on yours. he makes it look like an art form, taking his time, slow, drawing you out more and more—and you, impatient as hell, nearly losing it every time he stops just to throw in some little comment. he lifts his head slightly, lips glistening, with that smug glint in his eye.

“how could he lose you, huh?” he’s not actually asking; he just wants to see you needier. you press your thighs against him, trying to make him shut up and eat you out, but he just laughs, naughty.

“god, you’re so impatient, knew you’d be like this…” he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

you let out a frustrated moan, and he laughs again—he’s clearly feeding off this. “relax, princess, not gonna leave you hanging.” he says it, but he doesn’t speed up. you’re practically begging by the time he finally decides to quit playing games.

he fucks you so good that if you’d known it would always be like this with him, the idea of dating anyone but jeonghan would’ve never even crossed your mind.

he’s got you on all fours on his couch, no mercy, thrusting deep with that thick cock, your cries coming out rough and strained, head tilted back as he holds nothing back, fingers gripping your hair just to make you scream his name louder. the angle leaves your gasps sounding suffered, desperate.

jeonghan, obviously, is eating this up. he notices when you’re already dripping all over his couch, and just to make it even worse, he gathers up that little drip and rubs it right on your sensitive clit, making you melt like jelly, your body going limp on his couch until he eases his grip on your hair so he doesn’t hurt you.

he moans shamelessly, the sound probably even louder than yours, and it catches you off guard. he doesn’t hold back, telling you how long he’s wanted this, how many times he’s dreamed about fucking you exactly like this.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this pretty pussy, baby…” he whispers, and you feel that delicious shiver on the back of your neck. “if you hadn’t picked that dumbass… we could’ve been fucking like this ages ago.”

he thrusts deeper, but moving slower, just so you can feel every inch as he murmurs in your ear. his touch is firm, fingers gliding down to squeeze that sensitive spot, giving it a playful pinch just to watch you shiver, rolling your eyes as you gasp out his name.

“this is what you wanted, princess? gonna appear here on my place, begging for my cock again.. and im going to give you what you want... always.”

[uhuhmaries]

Two Night Stand

Summary: After a wild, unforgettable night with Harry Styles in Tokyo, you thought that was it. No number exchanged, no promises made. But somehow, he finds you. A message leads to a date, and a date leads to more than either of you expected. What begins as lust turns into something deeper, with Harry craving more than just your body—he wants to know what truly undoes you. One night, one connection… and it might not end in Tokyo after all.

If you’re new here, HELLO!!!! Check out my masterlist to see the first two chapters!

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ (honestly nothing is really going on here just cute stuff and tensions), is going out on a date with Harry while having a shitty situationship back home is considered as cheating???

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You have returned to your room, the morning still barely stirring outside your window. The walls feel too cold. The silence, too loud. You thought you'd feel relief walking away—cleaner, somehow—but your skin still burns where his hands were.

You shower again. Not because you need to, but because you're trying to scrub the memory off. Except it clings harder than soap.

And worse, your friends are still sleeping, but you can't stop refreshing your phone. The blurry photo’s has been making rounds online, and your heart does somersaults every time you read the caption.

“Harry Styles’ mysterious Tokyo guest: fan or fling?”

You want to laugh. Or scream. Maybe both.

That night, you don’t sleep. You write drafts of messages you’ll never be able to send. “Thank you for everything.” “This is wild. I hope you’re okay.” “Is this over?” But none feel right.

You settle into the day like a ghost. Pretending. But your body remembers him.

Three nights later, just as you're slipping into a restless sleep, your phone buzzes.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: “You still in Tokyo?”

Your breath catches. You already know it’s him.

You’ve opened the message, but your thumbs hover uncertainly over your phone. You don’t know if you should respond—or if you should stick to your decision to keep things uncomplicated.

After a few minutes of pacing the room, heart pounding, you finally cave:

YOU: “How did you even get my number?”

HS: “I’m... charming, remember? Also, your name isn’t exactly hard to find.”

You exhale slowly, torn between smiling and rolling your eyes.

YOU: “Let’s not do this, Harry. I’m sorry about the photo. Being seen outside your hotel wasn’t intentional. I hope you and your team didn’t catch too much heat because of me.”

You let out a sigh, sinking onto the edge of your bed. If you’re honest with yourself… you do want to be back in his arms. Who wouldn’t? It’s Harry Styles. Anyone would throw themselves at the chance. But this—whatever this is—was never supposed to happen.

Your phone buzzes again.

HS: “Let me take you on a date. If we can’t even get through one real conversation, we’ll leave it there. But I need you to know… it’s not just physical for me. I feel like there’s something here.”

Your heart stutters, fluttering like you’re fifteen again. It’s embarrassing how fast it happens. Like you’re back in middle school screaming One Way or Another into a hairbrush.

Just as your fingers brush the keyboard, about to say yes…

“Hey!” one of your friends calls from the kitchen. You jump slightly, caught off guard.

You quickly lock your phone and walk out of the room.

“So… you’re back,” she says, raising a brow with a sly grin. “Can you talk about it? Or did they hit you with an NDA like we always joked about?”

You laugh under your breath. “Shockingly, no paperwork. I think we left things on decent terms.” You pause, then glance around like you’re double-checking you’re really saying this out loud. “I didn’t give him my number. But… he found me. He’s asking to see me. A real date.”

Your friend’s eyebrows shoot up, and you can already tell she’s ready with opinions.

You bite your lip, voice quieter now. “I don’t know what to do. I mean… I didn’t expect any of this. It’s already complicated.”

But the way your voice lingers on that last word? It’s clear you’re hoping she tells you to go.

Because part of you is already halfway there.

“Y/N… it’s Harry Styles.”

Your friend grabs your hands, eyes wide, voice low but emphatic like she’s trying to knock some sense into you. “You’re leaving Tokyo in two days. Might as well make him your Tokyo fling. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

You blink at her, half-laughing. But she’s not wrong.

Why are you overthinking this?

You glance toward your phone on the counter, the screen still dark. No new messages.

Not from him.

The one back home.

Of course, he hasn’t reached out. Not since the first moment you even looked at Harry. And still… it’s always the same damn cycle. He’s emotionally distant, you’re emotionally complicated, and somehow you always end up falling right back into that almost-relationship that never gives you anything real. Just enough to stay. Never enough to thrive.

And then there’s Harry.

Who looked at you like he meant it. Who touched you like he knew you, but you know. It will never work.

You swallow hard. Suddenly, your fingers itch for the phone in your back pocket. You pull it out, stare at his message one more time, and then you type:

YOU:

“Sure. What the hell. I’m leaving in two days anyway. Might as well make it count.”

You barely have time to breathe before it buzzes in your hand.

HS:

“Two days? That’s all I get?”

You smirk, heartbeat quickening, and type back:

YOU:

“Take it or leave it.”

Another pause—then:

HS:

“Taking it. Send me your hotel. I’m picking you up at 7 sharp.”

You bite your lip, screen still lit in your hand. The nerves are loud now.

Excited. Dangerous. Alive. Your friend’s voice echoes in your mind:

Might as well make it your Tokyo fling.

You do feel guilty, of course. But then again… sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. You give the name of your hotel and room number without thinking.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

You spend the whole afternoon pacing, rifling through your suitcase like a woman possessed. Nothing feels quite right—too casual, too much, too desperate. But just when you’re about to give up and settle for something safe, fate offers you a little gift.

Tucked beneath a pile of worn T-shirts and folded denim is the dress. You don’t even remember packing it—maybe it was wishful thinking—but there it is: a navy-blue, backless dress with a high slit that kisses the curve of your thigh. Elegant, effortless, just a little dangerous. The kind of dress that feels like it was made for this moment.

You hold it up against your body and smirk to yourself in the mirror.

Perfect.

As the sun begins to dip below the Tokyo skyline, you slip it on, letting the silky fabric glide over your skin. You add a delicate pair of earrings, some gloss, and just a hint of perfume. Matching it with a pair of white kitten heels.

And under the dress?

White lace. Soft. Barely there.

Just in case.

You’ll never admit that part—not to him, not to your friends. Not even to yourself. But the way you smooth the fabric over your hips and check your reflection one more time tells the truth.

You want him to see you.

And maybe… maybe— undress you, too.

The knock comes at the perfect time.

When you open the door, he’s already there— leaning slightly against the frame like he owns the damn hallway. A black shirt hangs open just enough to tease the ink sprawled across his chest, sleeves rolled lazily to the elbows. A low-slung hat hides his eyes, but not his grin. The sunglasses are unnecessary, but somehow—on him—they work.

You swallow thickly, nearly losing your breath.

God, he looks like trouble.

Before you can say anything, Harry takes one step inside, quick and low like someone might be watching. His eyes drag down your body slowly—too slowly—before they flick back up to meet yours. There’s a beat of silence. Maybe two.

Then suddenly, his hand finds your waist like it belongs there, and his other palm cups your cheek as his mouth meets yours—hungry, deliberate, like it’s been years instead of hours. You melt into him before he pulls back with a breathless smile.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

You just nod.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he walks you down the hallway and into the elevator. Your heart is thudding like it’s trying to crawl out of your chest, and you’re pretty sure he can feel it in your grip.

Outside, a sleek black car waits. He opens the door for you—of course he does—before circling around to the driver’s seat. As he starts driving through the Tokyo night, city lights flashing across the windshield, you feel his palm settle on your thigh. Casual. Familiar. Possessive.

The fabric of your dress gives way easily, and he pushes it aside to expose more skin. His thumb traces lazy circles, each stroke rising higher and slower. You glance over at him—one hand on the wheel, the other teasing your skin, jaw clenched like he’s fighting his own instincts. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip as he stares straight ahead.

“Harry,” you whisper, a warning.

“I know.” His voice is tight. “I’m trying to behave.”

You cross your legs—his hand trapped between your thighs—and smirk when he groans softly.

“I’m not helping, am I?”

“Not even a little bit.”

By the time you pull up to the restaurant, the tension is a third passenger. He gets out first and opens your door, helping you out with a hand on the small of your back.

Inside, the restaurant is dimly lit and draped in quiet opulence. You recognize a few faces—actors, models, names that make your chest flutter—but Harry doesn’t flinch. He nods to a few people, murmurs a polite “Evenin’,” and keeps his focus on you like you’re the only thing that matters.

The host brings you to a secluded corner table.

You sit. So does he.

And for a moment, there’s only silence between you as you both settle into this new version of each other—outside of hotel rooms and stolen moments.

You order drinks and food you barely look at.

Then he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“You look stunning,” he says softly.

You flush, letting out a quiet laugh. “That’s… kinda basic.”

He smirks. “Not wrong, though.”

There’s a beat of quiet before you ask, “So… is this normal for you?”

“What, Tokyo flings?”

You shrug. “Hooking up with fans. Picking them up for dates the next day. Finding their numbers even when they never gave it to you.”

He chuckles, swirling the wine in his glass. “No. This is new.”

You raise a brow. “Seriously?”

He nods. “I don’t usually chase. But you…” He lifts his gaze to yours. “You left before I was done.”

You glance down at your plate, heart skittering. “That night wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“And yet here we are.” He pauses. “Unless… it didn’t mean anything to you?”

You hesitate.

“No. It meant something.” You meet his eyes. “Too much, actually. And it’s troubling because as we both know, I have someone back home.”

He leans back in his chair, quiet for a moment. “How is that going?”

“It’s… complicated,” you say, voice low. “Not official. Not fulfilling either. But still… something.”

Harry watches you for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on his glass.

“I’m not asking for forever,” he finally says. “I just… don’t want this to be pretend. Not tonight.”

You let that settle between you. It shouldn’t feel this intense. You’re leaving. You’re not supposed to want this. But everything about him pulls you in like gravity.

“I want honesty, Harry,” you say quietly. “If you’re just being sweet to make the sex better, say it now. I can take it.”

His eyes flash. “Sometimes people can’t differentiate between sweet and polite. I’m not sweet, love. Not unless I mean it.”

Your breath catches at the way his voice dips, slow and thick.

You change the subject slightly, trying to cool the heat in your chest. “What would people think if they saw you here? With someone like me.”

He smiles. “They’ll think I have good taste.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush.

Dinner comes, but the food is just background. Conversation flows in between sips of wine and stolen glances—music, childhood memories, strange fan encounters, what Tokyo means to both of you. There’s laughter. There’s curiosity. And there’s that ever-present ache humming underneath it all.

By dessert, you’re no longer thinking about home.

By the time he pulls the car around again, your leg is draped over his, and his hand is under the slit of your dress again—this time, with more intention.

When he pulls up in front of your hotel, you don’t wait for him to open your door.

You open it yourself. Walk inside without a word.

He follows.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

📝 Author’s Note:

THANK YOUUUUU to everyone who has shown support for the first two chapters!!!! I definitely going to lead this one more on the fluff and happy ending side. Every Y/N deserves a good life, I believe.

Ps. Next chapter will be filthy!!!!! 👀

[touyaismycomfortboy]

♡ Suki's sweetheart.

a/n: i'm rewatching my hero academia, and I got to the dorms episode and rewatched the scene where everyone was sad bc of aizawa's lecture, so he made kaminari use his quirk to make him dumb to make his friends laugh and giving kirishima a gift and dksjgnkdjg I just love sweet bkg so I need to write these headcanons <333

this is only my second fic so let me know if you like it!!! still figuring out my style and such so if u have any requests for stories or recommendations on how to make my posts more aesthetic or just wanna say hi pleaseee do <3

word count: 0.7k

synopsis: headcanons about what bkg would do if he found you sad <3

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

genre: pure fluffy comfort

if he walked past your dorm and heard you crying quietly, he wouldn't approach you immediately. he'd walk into his own dorm quickly, go onto tiktok/instagram and go into his folder of saved videos he had for you, and spam your dms with funny/stupid videos he thought you would like.

he doesn't really scroll on his phone like that, but if anyone ever sends him a funny video or he stumbles across one he immediately saves it in his "y/n" folder.

after a couple minutes of spamming you, he'd nonchalantly walk into your room like he didn't see you crying a few minutes ago and crawl into your bed.

he was a man of few words when people around him were sad, never really knowing what words to say. so he just lays next to you with his arms open and lets you nuzzle into his chest while he wraps his big warm arms around you.

if you didn't know, nitroglycerin smells sweet. since he secretes it he smells like sugar/caramel, and it's hard to stay sad when you're cuddling your boyfriend who smells like dessert.

once you stopped crying and it had died down to soft sniffles, he'd grab your waterbottle off your desk and make you drink water, no ifs, ands, or buts. he had to make sure you were taken care of.

he'd wipe the remaining tears off your cheeks and ask if you needed anything, making sure he didn't talk too loud. you were in a very vulnerable state right now, he didn't want to upset you again.

if you were hungry, he'd make you watch the videos he sent you on his phone while he vanished for a few minutes as he went down to the common room kitchen and make you a simple snack, but it still tasted delicious because, well, katsuki is a great chef.

he'd watch you carefully as you ate the snack, seeing if there was any lingering sadness in your face or body language.

he'd ask you if you wanted to talk about it even if he didn't know what he'd say to you, he'd just listen to you if you did talk about it and nod along to your venting.

if it was someone who hurt you, he'd have to resist the urge to leave your room immediately to go blow those extras to smithereens, just sitting there and hugging you instead. having to remind himself that hurting someone else wouldn't make you feel better.

even if it was getting late and you guys had school the next day, he'd refuse to leave your room until he knew for sure you were 100% better. once you finally got him to leave, he would remind you a thousand times to text him if you needed him.

on the off chance that you did message him during the night, he had a special text tone just for your messages that he would wake up to. he'd quickly throw on some sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt as he would quickly (and quietly) walk to your dorm room, open the door and crawl into your bed once more.

on those nights, he wouldn't leave under any circumstances. he'd spend the night with you to make sure he was right there if you needed comfort. if you wanted him to leave, he would leave the bed and not the room. he would rather sleep on the cold hard floor than leave you alone while you're upset.

[peachiejeongin]

Back to Blue | Han Jisung

Synopsis: Jisung messages you out of the blue one day, and before you know it, you are at the Stray Kids dorm dying his hair back to blue.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, crack

Warnings: None! (Unless shirtless Jisung counts)

WC: 1.6k

Notice: My loves, this was an entirely unprompted fanfiction. I have a couple requests scheduled and I'm working on a longer fiction, so I was not going to write anything at all today. But after reading a few stories about Hyunjin's buzzcut and Felix's dark hair, I realized I had not seen many stories about the return of Bluesung on my feed; therefore, I decided to write my own!...and I may or may not have sped-wrote it in about an hour or two. Whoops! Nevertheless, enjoy the story, my darlings! (I am also attempting a new format style, so enjoy that as well!).

Divider By: @strangergraphics-archive

It started with a random text on a Saturday afternoon.

Hannie<3: Hello, my beautiful, gorgeous, amazing specimen of a partner who I love more than anything else ever! You: What do you want, Ji? Hannie<3: Sooooo, our hairstylist may or not be out sick with the flu, and your amazing boyfriend who is ALWAYS so nice to you may or may not be wanting to bring back an old hair color so....wanna come help me dye my hair blue? :D

You blinked at your phone, rereading the message over and over again as if you were trying to find a joke in the wording that you had missed; he could not be serious, could he?

You: Why not just go to an ACTUAL salon? Hannie<3: And have them mess it up? Absolutely not! You're the only one I trust with this so can you pleeeeease come do it for me?? You: Hannie, I'm going to hold your hand when I say this. You: I have never dyed anyone's hair before. Hannie<3: Boxes have instructions for a reason!

You narrowed your eyes at your phone briefly, quirking your lips into a line; you pondered the text for a moment before sighing and typing out a reply.

You: I'll be there in fifteen.

Minutes later, you were at Jisung's dorm, standing in the doorway to his bedroom with a skeptical expression etched onto your face; your boyfriend just grinned at you like an eager puppy.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to play mad scientist with my hair."

"You're acting like I'm about to give you an entirely new identity," you retorted, stepping inside and tossing your keys onto his bed. "Remind me why you want blue specifically? I thought you wanted to stay natural for a while."

Han shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I did, but blue is like my color, y'know? Fans loved it, and, let's be real, I looked amazing!" You rolled your eyes at the final comment but could not help the smile that eased past your lips.

"Fine," you told him, "but if this goes wrong, I am taking zero responsibility."

"Noted," he replied, leading you down the hallway to the bathroom; a box of blue hair dye already sat waiting on the counter.

"Wow," you teased, picking up the box and analyzing the instructions. "You really went all out with the cheap stuff. Y'sure it won't turn your hair green?"

Han laughed at first, but his eyes widened slightly, his playful expression morphing into one of slight fear.

"Wait...it's not going to do that, right?"

"I guess we'll find out."

Han let out a dreadful groan as you opened the box, pulling out the black rubber gloves that came with it; you pulled them on with a moderate snap as Han took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the messy bathroom floor. He perched on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping a small towel around his neck as you read the instructions in order to figure out just what you were doing.

After scanning over the steps and figuring out the process of unprofessionally coloring hair, you took out the color and the developer and poured both into the applicator bottle, shaking it harshly in order to quickly mix up the dye. Once the agents were fully combined, you stepped closer to Han, sitting yourself beside him on the rim of the tub.

"Okay, tilt your head back," you instructed, squeezing a tiny amount of hair dye onto your finger tips.

"Wait," Han suddenly said, looking up at you with large, doe-eyes. "What happens if it actually turns my hair green?"

"Hannie, it's just hair," you replied, running your clean hand through his hair lightly. "You'll be fine."

"But my appearance is my livelihood!" He clutched a dramatic hand over his heart, pretending to tear up at the thought. "If my hair is ruined, I'm ruined!"

"Well, you could always shave your head and wait for it to grow back!" you playfully remarked. "Hopefully by then, your stylist will feel better!"

"A shaved head?!" Han gasped dramatically, his words loud and bewildered. "Do I look like my name is Hyunjin? We can't have two kiwis in the group!" You chuckled at his melodramatics before halting suddenly, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait, Hyunjin shaved his head?"

"Oh, nevermind that!" Han playfully shook his head as he spoke. "Can you just get started before I go crazy?"

"You're already crazy, Hannie, but okay."

You slowly raked the blue dye through Han's hair, being as gentle as possible just in case you caught any missed tangles or knots. You went by sections, going by the layers of Han's hair. As you worked, Han squirmed as if he were a child.

"Ow!" he yelped unseriously. "That was a tangle!"

"Han, my fingers literally ran through a couple of strands," you retaliated, trying not to laugh. "How could I have hit a tangle?"

"I don't know, but that's what it felt like," he muttered, pouting and wincing for effect.

"You're such a baby," you teased, brushing through his hair more softly. "I know you don't act like this with the stylists, so just behave for me, would you?"

"Fine, fine," he conceded with a sigh. "In my defense, though, it absolutely kills me to sit still for an hour with them, too."

"Keep yourself distracted then," you suggested as you began to work on the second section of hair. "Like, just talk to me about whatever will make time pass by for you."

Upon your statement, you and Han began to discuss everything and nothing, from his plans for the week, to a new song he was working on, and finally the latest group chat antics with the other members. You had to pause your efforts multiple times during conversation, scolding Han for turning his head away from you while he was speaking. By the time you had finished applying the dye, you were both laughing so hard that your sides were aching.

"Okay," you sighed out victoriously, peeling off your gloves and throwing them away along with the applicator bottle. "Now we wait."

"For how long?"

"Thirty minutes," you answered after re-checking the box's directions. As you pulled out your phone to set a timer, Han let out a frustrated groan, slumping dramatically off of the bathtub's edge and onto the bathroom floor.

"I am going to die of boredom."

"You could always help me clean up," you suggested, glancing pointedly at the blue streaks adorning the whie porcelain of the bathtub, as well as some spots that had made their way onto the floor.

"Absolutely not." Han sat up quickly, shaking his head. "That's your mess."

"Excuse me?" you shot back while chuckling. "Are you not the one who squirmed, flinced, and turned your head so aggressively that you got hair dye everywhere?" Before Han could answer, you pulled out a washrag from one of the bathroom drawers, turning on the faucet to wet it slightly and tossing it to Han.

"Now, get it before it dries up!" you commanded, getting out a second rag for yourself. "I don't want to explain to your managers why the dorm's bathroom looks like a Smurk emporium."

To your gratitude, and more so Han's, cleaning up the smeared hair dye made the time pass by swiftly; within what felt like moments, the alarm on your phone had gone off.

"Thank goodness!" Han yelled, standing up from where he had been kneeled on the floor, working on a particularly tough stain. "Moment of truth!" Han made his way to the shower, sliding open the door before glancing back at you.

"Privacy, please!" he cheekily commanded, waiving you away sassily.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't forget to use this, ya goof." You handed him the small packet of hair color conditioner before striding out of the bathroom.

"Text me when you're done."

You were sitting on Han's bed, scrolling through social media for what felt like an eternity; you were never able to understand how one person could take such a lengthy shower. You got the urge to go knock on the bathroom door and ask what was taking so long, but before you could, your phone buzzed.

Hannie<3: All done! Come look! :D

You smiled at the text, sluggishly standing up and making your way to the bathroom. You opened the door to find a beaming Han, his squirrely smile lighting up the entire bathroom as he ran his hands through his hair whilst looking in the mirror; it was blow-dried, which was probably why he took longer than expected, but most importantly, it was vibrant, shiny, and blue.

"Ladies and...well, just lady!" Han exclaimed as he turned to you, a prominent, joyous sparkle present in his eyes. "I present to you: the return of Bluesung!"

"No kidding!" you responded, ruffling his hair lightly and fluffing it up slightly. "I think I nailed it!"

"You did!" he agreed, grinning from ear to ear. "I am dangerously attractive now. Well, I've always been attractive, but even more so now, baby!"

"Alright, alright." You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing at his shoulder. "Calm down, Blueberry."

"Careful," he warned, the gleeful glint in his gaze turning into a mischevious one. "Call me that again, and I'm dying your hair."

"Fine by me," you retorted while smirking. "I've been wanting to go purple for a while, Blueberry."

"Oh, you little!" Han picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and playfully bickering with you as he spun you around the bathroom; however, even through the teasing and the unserious arguing, one thought crossed your mind:

Blue really did suit him.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[factual-fantasy]

26 asks! Thank you! :}}} 🪲

Oh absolutely I do. That's why I always ask before drawing anyone's OCs, or using/modifying their original meme templates, or anything of the sort. Friends and strangers alike.

And same goes for AU ideas. In the past I've seen a really cool idea for an AU and tracked down the OP and asked if I could incorporate their idea into my AU as well. I do my very best to do this for other artists because its what I wish people would do for me.👍👍

I have a master post for all my Octonauts artwork here. 👍

@ripchaos69

I'm really proud of/pleased with how this fairy piece came out! :DD

I also really like how this pixelated cat came out! :)

I was very pleased with how WALL-E cam out in this piece!

I also think this is one of the best drawings of Optimus I've ever done! :))

Even if I knew the answer, that's probably not something I should share online anyways is it?

@mothpendragon

I remember not liking him at all the first time I watched the show. But now watching it a second time years later, I think he's really not that bad. :0 In fact I don't know why I disliked him so much back then.

There are some parts about his character that annoy me. But most of that either is good character writing or isn't his fault. I don't like how immature he tends to be, but of course he's immature. He's still basically just a kid who hasn't experienced much of this war.

And when things get rough, he really straightens out and tries his best to be serious and obedient. Which is very nice to see.

Another thing that I don't like is how the phase shifter was kind'a overused. It became his signature weapon that he used to bail him out of everything. Smokescreen has demonstrated that he's actually pretty clever and slick, it would have been fun to see him trick or outsmart the cons more often instead of just using the phase shifter to save his aft every time. But again, this is not Smokescreens fault at all. Its the writers fault for making his use it so much.

And lastly, something that really made me like Smokescreen was the whole thing that happened with Optimus nearly dying. Smokescreen freaking out at the prospect of becoming a Prime felt really real. Instead of being honored and having and having an inflated ego like I thought he might for some reason- he was terrified.

And him panicking and using the forge to repair Optimus last second felt very real. I could really understand how Smokescreen must have felt, wanting to follow Optimus's orders and restore their home, but also being unable to bare the responsibility of being a Prime. Eventually dragging Optimus back to the land of the living and throwing away any hope of restoring the Omega lock.

If I was better at analyzing characters, I would have loved to draw a comic about what happens right after Optimus was repaired.

My first thought is Smokescreen feeling guilty and ashamed of having used the forge against Optimus's wishes. Would Smokescreen crumble? Fall to his knees, crying and apologizing? "I'm so sorry Optimus- I just couldn't do it-- I couldn't do it, I cant be a Prime- I couldn't-- w-we couldn't lose you.." Is that in character? Honestly I have no idea. 😔

I've thought about doing that for my lineless style, but I haven't gotten around to it.. 😓

If someone goes out of their way to comment on your post/in your ask box saying you're cringe for liking transformers, block the all the way to the sun and back.

What a jerk. I wouldn't be friends with anyone who goes around insulting/trying to upset people for no reason like that. Block them and don't accept/respond any phony apology they might throw your way. They knew they were being rude when they sent that message and deserve to be blocked.

Dude I would take that so fast. No one in my family would ever have to work or have debt ever again 😭

I figure if I ever feel like drawing/posting Octonauts art again, I would just put it behind a paywall on my Ko-fi. Which ngl I've thought about doing a lot recently with the new movie that came out.

But also- I would have no way of filtering out people for that private blog because how am I supposed to know who will and wont steal my artwork just by looking at their account? And when it did get stolen, I would have no way of knowing which follower did it-

I believe I've mentioned it before, but I didn't want to watch Rescue bots because its attached to Transformers: Prime <:/

Its supposed to be connected to Prime, but its rather baby-ified. The tone is much more light hearted, the plot of Rescue bots completely rewrites/contradicts the plot of Prime, Optimus comes back to life for no reason. Stuff like that.

Atm I'm only interested in Prime 😔

@kitkat1003

OUGUHHH SO REALLLLL 😭😭😭😭

REALLL I've only ever found ship fics😔😔😔 I'd love to see an aftermath fic with no romance involved.

@virtualworldfp5

That's a really cool idea! :D Great artwork too! :))

@badlyblurry

Man, if I had a nickel for every time Jeffery Combs played a character with some sort of scientist background and that had some form of contact with a green chemical compound that holds harmful properties to one body in a way, I'd have 3 nickels. Which isn't a lot but its weird that it happened 3 times. XD

@anonymous-red-shades

I'd definitely want to be something that can fly :00 But I don't think I'd wanna fly super fast because i wanna enjoy the scenery.. hmmm.. maybe a helicopter or a classic pontoon plane? :000

As for abilities... uhhhhhhh the only special abilities I know that transformers can have is the warping thing that Skywarp does. I don't know of any other powers <:0 Maybe an ability to change into more than one alt mode..? So I could be a submarine and go underwater? Or maybe the ability to breathe underwater or something? :00

(Referencing this post)

They're so unhinged I swear 😔

@chickenmilk120 (Referencing this post)

NOT YOU TOO-

@cherrycreamfairy

I couldn't find any websites that didn't make my anti virus tweak out <XD So the only villain I like from memory is Captain Gantu from Lilo and Stitch.

I still like it yeah :0 but I'm not really engaging in any Mandalorian media atm-

@minnesotamedic186

Okay the killing part aside a Plymouth Fury is an excellent choice of car ngl. Especially a fiery red 💅💅💅

@axolotlcookie0

The fact that it looks like Thomas's face has been bagged makes it even funnier XDDD

@wolfie-777

XD I actually think of that a lot yeah. I always tell myself "oooo I should draw that later" but I never do XD💀

@beryl-shade

Bibi would probably use it as intended. Sharpening and cleaning his claws💅💅

Meanwhile Cici would use it as a weapon to beat up Jangles and Gerald with XDD

What was his real name supposed to be in that continuity then? XD

@milk-powrit

References. Looooots and looooot of references.

Typically I use references of realistic skeletons. But if there's a part of the body that I just cant seem to draw right, then I look up drawings of skeletons to see how other artists drew that part. 👍

@beryl-shade

Oh no doubt they'll have an episode that takes place around the lake and the fair grounds(?) The theme park next to the main tent-

The fact that Caine mentioned their existence at all implies that an episode is going to take place there. At least for me-

[ultrone]

just saw your hcs about fuckgirl!nat and they were so good that got me thinking... what if she fell in love with reader? how would nat convince R that she wants more than a few nights together?

⨳﹙❤️‍🩹 ♰﹚fuckgirl!nat falling in love w reader

omgg i love this thought <33 — context

at first, she'd ignore it, avoiding thinking about it altogether. she liked doing her own thing, so admitting her feelings, even to herself, wasn't her style. deep down, though, she knew. but whether she admitted it to herself or not, you didn't pay much mind, since she kept her cool as always.

then, a conflict started brewing inside her. on one side, she craved a real connection with you, but on the other, she preferred independence and shied away from commitment. sometimes, she'd ponder over it while watching you sleep peacefully beside her. but once she left your dorm, she'd throw herself into other things to keep her mind off it.

but gradually, she began showing her feelings through actions instead of words, even if she didn't intend to.

the first thing that gave it away was that she didn't call it quits with you after the two weeks mark. she brushed it off, saying she just really enjoyed being with you—sexually, of course. but who was she kidding? she didn't even last a week with the hottest girl on the hockey team.

around the third week, she started sleeping in. that was unusual for her; she usually slipped out before her fling woke up, or at least tried to. but now, she lingered, whether it was staying in bed longer or sitting by your window to smoke. whenever you woke up, she was there.

she cared about her self-image, though, so she tried not to do anything that seemed inconsistent with her usual behaviour. so even though she was doing these things, she'd play it off like, "my roommate’s being annoying these days. don’t feel like heading back if that's cool with you lol," and then end up staying over the entire week 😭

at first, whenever she noticed you were awake, she'd just leave without much conversation. but as time went on, you two started talking. it began with small talk, but then turned into long conversations. slowly, she started opening up to you, sharing things she hadn't with any of her previous flings. they weren't too personal, just stuff like her favourite songs, opinions on certain topics, even her favourite disney princess—yeah, she has one. it might've seemed trivial, but it meant something.

but alongside this, she started sending you mixed signals; sometimes she'd be affectionate and intimate, but then she'd pull away and act distant. the more she shared with you and the closer you got, the more distant she became at times. once, she didn't even come over for a whole week.

naturally, you started to worry because now you felt closer to her than ever before.

“it’s not that deep bruh, i’m just busy with homework. don’t feel like screwing tonight anyway,” she’d say. and her words stung, because you didn't see her as just a fling anymore. but maybe you misjudged her, and the rumours were true. maybe she really didn't give a shit.

so, of course, you started pulling away too. even when she tried reaching out and acting like she hadn't been a jerk, you kept your distance. you ignored her texts and calls, locked your door at night, and avoided her on campus.

eventually, she got the message and left you alone, moving on to the next person.

nat never admitted it, but after things ended between you two, she hardly felt satisfied with anyone else. she'd pretend she was, but truth be told, whenever she closed her eyes, she'd think of you. the sounds you made, the way your skin felt against hers, your hitched breaths against her ear—it was only when she thought of you that she'd climax.

she’d also remember those mornings you spent together, her fingers through your hair while you slept, stopping as soon as she felt you stir.

though there was still no contact, you couldn't help but notice her from afar. catching her staring at you often, she'd quickly look away, but it happened too frequently to be coincidental. it happened in the cafeteria, the locker room, even the library—what was she doing there anyway? she didn't even study.

it wasn't until some other girl got overly touchy and flirty with you at a party that nat finally reached out.

 ୨   ﹙ 🦇 ﹚drabble ୧  

natalie, nursing a cheap beer in her hand, watched with silent fury as the girl wrapped her arms around you. she cursed to herself, taking a swig of her drink to calm her nerves. it was ridiculous how possessive she felt. she knew she had no right to feel jealous since she'd never even made her thoughts known to you, but there it was–jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. angry at herself, natalie pushed through the crowd, stepping between the two of you.

"excuse me," she interrupted the interaction, the other girl stepping back in surprise. her voice held a dangerous undertone, the mocking tone replaced by a sharp edge. "she’s with me."

with a forceful grip on your arm, natalie pulled you aside, leading you towards the balcony. the cool air outside felt refreshing in comparison to the warm, stuffy atmosphere indoors. she pushed you up against the railings with little effort, standing so close that her body almost brushed up against yours. her breath hung heavy in the still air, her grip tight around your arm.

“so,” she said, her tone soft yet menacing at the same time. “are you with her?”

"so?" you retorted defiantly. "why do you even care?" your words sounded harsher than intended, but you were growing annoyed. she had ignored you and now acted possessive? no fucking way.

her grip tightened around your arm, the change of tone in her voice making her serious. "don't play dumb," she said forcefully. "just answer the question."

"i'm not playing dumb, and screw you," you said angrily, moving your hand away from her grip and pushing her away. "you treated me like shit and then acted like nothing happened, and now you're being all territorial?" you asked incredulously. "what's your fucking problem? do you have any idea how much pain you put me through when you ghosted me?"

she stepped back, surprised by your sharp words. for a few moments, she stood still, seemingly stunned by your response. her face remained expressionless, but from the quick way her gaze darted to the ground, she appeared to be caught off guard. eventually, she straightened up, a bit of coldness settling in her demeanor.

"my problem?" she replied. “you’re my fucking problem!”

"why the fuck would i be the problem?" you demanded, your voice rising slightly.

"why would you be the problem?" natalie echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "because every damn time i try to move on, i see you everywhere. i hear you and think of those days we spent together. every time i try to just go and be with someone else, i’m always thinking of you instead."

you stood there, taken aback by natalie's raw confession. her words hung heavy in the air, punctuating the tension between you. "shit, natalie," you said, your voice softer now, your anger dissipating into a mix of frustration and empathy. "why didn't you say something? we could have talked about this."

"i couldn't," she admitted frankly, her expression softening slightly. a brief silence followed, the sound of traffic below filling the air. "i was scared," she confessed. "i've never felt this way about anyone. and you know my reputation, i don't exactly fit the 'girlfriend material' mold," she added with an ironic chuckle.

"so, i stayed away," she went on. "i convinced myself i could just stick to the usual. have a fling, move on, forget. but it never worked." there was another pause, this one lasting longer than it should. the atmosphere between you grew heavy, almost like a weight pressing down. "i’ve been trying to move on from you for so long," she confessed, "but no matter how many other people i tried to be with, no one ever measured up. nothing felt the same."

"the way i could just watch you for hours as you slept beside me, the way i always looked forward to sneaking into your dorm at night, the way my hands trembled when you touched me, or the way my heart raced every time i thought about you..."

she had to pause to gather herself, her voice starting to crack and falter as she continued. "i was scared to feel that, so i avoided it."

a heavy silence hung in the air as nat took a deep breath, finally calming down.

"then i realized," she continued, a newfound seriousness in her voice. "that no matter how many shitty one-night stands i had, no matter how many random people i tried to distract myself with, none of it mattered. i would always come back to you, to those feelings that i've tried my damn hardest to run away from."

she stepped closer, her voice lowering to a barely audible whisper.

“but now, i'm willing to put all that aside, because i know what i want."

as nat finished speaking, her words hanging in the charged air between you, she closed the distance between you with a determined step. without hesitation, she reached up, gently cupped your face in her hands, and pressed her lips softly against yours. the kiss was tender yet full of the intensity of her emotions, conveying everything she couldn't put into words. you couldn’t resist returning the kiss, missing the familiar taste of her lips, like cheap beer and cigarettes. as she pulled you closer by the waist, you wrapped your arms around her neck.

"i want you," she continued after breaking the kiss, her voice firmer and more certain. "i want to be with you. i know i haven't treated you fairly, i know i've made a lot of mistakes, but i promise i'm willing to change all that."

you looked into her eyes, searching for any signs of dishonesty, but found none. “if you ever hurt me, i swear i’ll fucking kill you, natalie,” you said seriously. "i'm not just a toy for you to play with, do you understand?"

"i'm never going to hurt you," she replied softly, her hands still gently caressing your waist. "i know i've been a jerk, i know i've been distant, but trust me, i'm not going to do that again. not when you mean this much to me," she said sincerely.

"you mean it?" you asked, feeling the tension in your chest release as you saw the honesty in her eyes. "you're not going to disappear like you did last time?"

"i promise i will never break your trust again," she said solemnly. this time, her words sounded more genuine, as if she believed them herself. she tightened her grip on your waist and continued, "from now on, i’ll always be upfront with you, no matter how messy or hard it gets. i won't give you any more mixed signals."

“well, looks like i’ve gotta believe you now,” you said, suppressing a smile. “i'm ready to trust you again; let's just hope it works out this time.”

the two of you stood in silence for a while, soaking in the moment and each other's presence. you couldn't help but notice the faint smile on natalie's face, as if she was just as relieved as you were to be together again. then, she finally broke the silence.

"so, does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?" she asked, a playful smile spreading across her face.

“all yours,” you replied, pulling her into a deep kiss, which she eagerly returned.

[thislovintime]

Photo by Nurit Wilde.

“When they shot them down at Kent State, that was the end of the flower-power era. That was it. You throw your flowers and rocks at us, man, and we’ll just pull the guns on you. Essentially, the revolution, which was sort of tolerated as long as it wasn’t a significant material threat, was not tolerated anymore. And everybody went ‘Ooops’ and scurried for cover and licked their wounds. They became isolated — which was the point of it all. 'Togetherness isn’t going to get it’ was the moral they tried to lay on us, because the less togetherness there is, the more room there is for exploitation. Kent State was an attempt. Let’s try this and see what happens. And what happened was the shooting and vast inflation and a swing to the right — the moral majority. The whole thing was inherent in the situation. A certain amount of loosening up, a certain amount of extra leisure, and people are going to try to improve their lot instead of just barely hanging on. If you had a little extra you’re going to try to make everything better. And if you see that your own happiness, or the lack of it, is tied in with the sadness of your neighbor, you’re going to start feeling communal. And that’s going to expand until the crunch comes. As long as people are educated to believe that isolated self-interest is the only way to go, when the crunch comes they’ll withdraw from each other. And only now, in the faintest glimmerings, do I see any sense that people are realizing that togetherness and flower power alone won’t get it. It’s got to be togetherness, flower power, plus a willingness to do something pretty stern from time to time. If you’re not willing to behave sternly, people who won’t stop short of stern behavior are going to keep on going. It’s taken a while for that message to sink in.” - Peter Tork, interviewed by Bruce Pollock for When The Music Mattered (1984) “Those of us who were truly interested in liberty, fraternity and equality, however, knew we were onto something good and real.  What had been called democracy was, and to some extent still is, a pretext for wrapping the will of the greedy and aggressive in a mantle of public acquiescence. Now, the business of wresting power away from those who make a specialty of wielding it will be a long and protracted struggle, with a lot of setbacks along the way.  The outlines of the new style of governance are only dimly perceivable, and won’t become clear for a long time to come.  In the meantime, our job is to practice the principles of fairness and service to the extent possible.  One thing is clear: there is a much higher joy in service than there is in acquisition of wealth.  (Remember that it isn’t money that’s the root of all evil, it’s the love of money.)  Hanging together in brother - and sisterhood is so happy-making you want to sing right out loud. Yeah, I feel the same about those ideas as I did then…in case you couldn’t tell. heheheh, Peter” - Ask Peter Tork, 2008 “I was baptized a socialist. My faith is in a community.” - Peter Tork, Visalia Times Delta, October 29, 2010 (Revisiting these quotes again, too, for anyone else in need of a reminder.)

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello Nausicaa, hope you are doing well! Can we get 90s Lars x pro tennis player reader please? He used to play tennis when he was a kid, so he still follows all major events, and she’s so beautiful and fierce on court he gets obsessed with her? So after reader wins a major tournament, Lars asks to be introduced to her? At first she doesn’t care despite all his charm (girl, I swear, 90s Lars could talk anyone into anything) but in a few weeks she agrees on a date - she’s just tired of all the flowers and gifts he was sending. But surprisingly they hit it off?

Also, can the reader be taller than him? Looking at Connie and Jessica - it’s safe to say he likes tall women. Thank you)))

Thank you, I wish you're having a good day. I hope you like it because I'm feeling very tired today❤

Beyond the game

Tennis has always been my life. I’d dedicated everything to it—sacrificed relationships, time, and even parts of my sanity for the game. But winning a major tournament? That was supposed to be the culmination of it all. The moment where everything I’d worked for paid off.

And yet, after the tournament, all I could think about was Lars Ulrich.

It wasn’t like I’d never heard of him. I’d seen the name, heard the rumors, but I hadn’t given it much thought. He was the drummer from Metallica, a rock god, not the kind of guy I typically paid attention to.

But when he showed up at my post-match celebration, I couldn’t help but notice. He was everywhere: charming, magnetic, with that intense smile of his that probably got him whatever he wanted. He approached me with all the confidence of someone who was used to having doors opened for him.

“Hi, I’m Lars,” he said with a grin, offering a hand like we were two ordinary people meeting for the first time.

I didn’t shake it. Instead, I raised an eyebrow. “You’re Lars Ulrich, right?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent, like it didn’t matter.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied easily. “But I’m not just a fan. I wanted to say congratulations on the win. It was impressive.”

I nodded briefly, not really interested in the flattery. I had more important things to do than entertain some celebrity. “Thanks,” I said, turning to walk away, my coach calling me over.

Lars didn’t take the hint. Over the next couple of weeks, I found myself receiving gifts—flowers, expensive chocolates, a hand-written note almost every day. At first, I thought it was funny. But after a while, it became annoying. I didn’t need a rock star to send me things to get my attention.

But Lars didn’t stop. Every day, another gesture. He didn’t just send the usual flowers and gifts; he sent things that felt more personal, like he was trying to get to know me. He’d comment on my matches, send messages telling me how he was watching, how he admired my style of play. It was flattering, but also... exhausting.

Finally, one day, I snapped. I was tired of the flowers, tired of the constant attention, tired of it all. So, I sent him a short message: Dinner. Tomorrow night. 7 PM. My treat.

I wasn’t expecting much. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I agreed to it. Maybe I just wanted it to end. If he had a chance to prove himself in person, maybe he’d back off. I couldn’t keep ignoring him forever, right?

When I showed up at the restaurant, I was prepared for another round of charm and persistence. But what I found wasn’t what I expected. Lars was relaxed, easygoing, almost... normal. He wasn’t throwing compliments at me every five seconds, and he didn’t seem to be in any rush. It was a simple dinner, just two people sitting across from each other.

“So, tennis, huh?” he asked, his voice casual, his gaze warm as he watched me. “How do you do it? Make it look so effortless?”

I smirked, pushing my plate aside. “It’s not effortless. It’s hard work. It’s blood, sweat, and tears.”

“Yeah, but there’s something different about you,” he said, leaning forward just a little, eyes never leaving mine. “The way you play... It’s like you’re one with the game.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Most people didn’t bother trying to understand what it meant to be in the game. But Lars was different. He wasn’t just admiring the surface. He was looking deeper.

“Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice,” I said, trying to brush it off. “The game is everything.”

He chuckled, the sound light but with an edge of sincerity. “Yeah, but that’s why you’re so good at it. You’ve got something most people don’t. And I can’t help but admire that.”

I paused, looking at him for a moment. “Alright, you’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

Lars smiled, that damn grin of his I’d seen in every magazine. But this time, it didn’t feel like he was trying to win me over with it. It felt... natural. Like he was just being himself.

We talked about other things, too. Not just tennis. We talked about music, about travel, about the weird quirks of our jobs. It wasn’t about impressing each other; it was just two people finding something in common. And, to my surprise, I found myself enjoying it.

By the end of the evening, I realized something I hadn’t expected: I was actually looking forward to seeing him again. There was something refreshing about him, something I couldn’t quite put into words. And despite all the gifts, all the persistence, he hadn’t made me feel like an object of desire. He’d made me feel... seen.

As we walked outside together, I felt his gaze on me. He leaned in for a quick kiss on my cheek, and for a moment, I didn’t pull away.

“I’ll be around,” he said, with a grin that I couldn’t ignore. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I shook my head, but part of me was already wondering what that meant. “You’ll regret that.”

“Not in a million years,” he replied, his voice soft but certain.

I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t the persistent rock star I thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Lars Ulrich than I had first assumed.

And maybe... just maybe... I was starting to see it.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Voicemail

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Friendship Characters: John, Az (OC) After a day of frantic rescues and close-calls, John had a voicemail waiting for him. I started writing this fic in 2021 as an introduction for my OC Az. Four years later I reopened the doc to look something up and ended up finishing the fic instead, so here it is! I know nothing about astrophysics so please forgive any vague science-ing going on here... Also I'm very out of practice writing TAG fic, whoops...

He had a voicemail.  The little icon flickered at him innocuously in his periphery, peeking out from behind a whole stack of holograms he’d finally, finally been able to close down.

John eyed it, tired.  It had been a long day, one of those days where the entire world seemed to implode all at once, leaving him scrambling to deploy his brothers wherever they were needed the most, whilst simultaneously strong-arming the GDF and local authorities into handling anything else, because his siblings were fantastic, but they could only be in so many places at once.

That place, now, was home – or getting there.  All five Thunderbirds were converging on Tracy Island at last, a race that none of them truly had their hearts set on because John wasn’t the only one that was tired.  They all were, and he was side-eyeing the holographic representation of Earth wearily, just waiting for it to throw up one more rescue.

The voicemail icon kept flashing at him.  He could, of course, dismiss it and leave it for later, when he wasn’t so tired.  Only a very select group of people had his personal number, and all of them knew what he did for a living.  They’d understand.

But while John was tired, it wasn’t the sort of tired he could sleep away.  Not all of the rescues had gone perfectly, either, and if he sat in silence for too long he knew he’d hear Scott’s cut-off cry as rocks had given way beneath him.  His brother was fine; a single flick of his wrist had kicked his jetpack into gear and left him completely unharmed, but that didn’t negate the brief spurt of terror John had felt when his big brother had fallen.

And that wasn’t the only incident of its kind that had happened in the past spree.  All of his siblings, at one point or other, had had their own scare, and John was seriously starting to consider getting in the space elevator and going home for a while.  Letting the events of the day and their respective what-ifs circle around in his head in silence would do no-one any good.

He’d been there before.

Several times.

Flash, flash, flash, went the little voicemail icon.

Hardly anyone had that number, and most of them never used it while he was on Thunderbird Five.  They didn’t need to, when their comms system was far superior.  It could be Lady P., he supposed, if she had something non-urgent to tell him and hadn’t wanted to interrupt International Rescue’s communications while they were so busy.

He considered the little icon again.  If he went home, he’d see all his brothers and be reassured that they were fine, but he’d also find himself on the receiving end of the smothering of an equally panicked big brother who was no doubt gearing himself up to check up on each and every one of them after the near misses of the day.  Maybe the message waiting patiently for him to acknowledge it would give his mind something to focus on without the need to go back to Earth just yet.

It was unlikely, but if he could even just delay exposure to Scott’s smothering, John was content to count that as a win.

Floating over to the icon lazily, he tapped it.

“Hey, Ginge!”

The words echoed around Thunderbird Five almost before the hologram appeared.  Bright blue hair, as ever styled into a ridiculous, gravity-despairing shock that John knew from experience took even more hair gel than Virgil or Scott used to keep in place, topped the pale face and blue eyes of one of the few people John considered a friend.

“I’d ask how you’re doing,” they continued, “but as you’re not picking up, I’m gonna guess the answer’s ‘busy’.  Give me a call when you get a break from saving the world, yeah?  I could do with a second opinion on the latest data.  Az out.”

The hologram vanished again after a cheeky gesture somewhere between a wave and a salute, leaving John to ponder if he should leave the message as unread and get back later, or make the call now.

At a year older than him, Az had been the closest to a peer he’d had during his PhD research, helped by the fact they were studying similar enough topics that it had been worth John’s time to put up with the loud, extroverted bundle of energy that was Az.  They were, in many ways, rather reminiscent of Gordon in that regard, and John dreaded the day that the pair of them eventually crossed paths.

As it stood, he had somehow managed to keep his brothers and Az separate, although he was certain Kayo had thoroughly investigated them at some point, and intended on continuing to do so for as long as he could get away with it.

The request for a second opinion on some data wasn’t unusual – the two of them had collaborated on several papers, and Az’s latest project once again held a little bit of overlap with John’s area of expertise.  Enough that they’d wheedled their way into getting him to use Thunderbird Five as one of the data collection points.

What Scott didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  It wasn’t like John didn’t do the exact same thing for his own research.  Thunderbird Five could handle it.

John had been too busy dealing with his day job to pay much attention to the data quietly streaming to Az’s network in the background, though, so he had no idea what his fellow astrophysicist was looking at.

Should he call back, or mark the voicemail as unread for later?

A check of the time said it was midnight for Az, which meant they’d still be up.  Their respective timezones made communication at regular hours difficult to arrange anyway, so both of them were used to talking at so-called unsociable hours, even without both of them liking to stay up late to watch the night sky.  All in all, there was nothing stopping John from calling them if he wanted to.

Diving into the world of data for a while sounded like exactly the sort of thing John needed, and despite their innate extravert-ness, if focused on something, Az was easy enough to handle.

Besides, silence was a bad idea, anyway.

John tapped the return call icon and waited, allowing the zero-g to cradle his body.

“Hey, Ginge.”  In a mirror of the voicemail, Az was talking almost before their hologram appeared.  Dressed in their usual space-themed regalia, and hairstyle starting to droop as the end of the day approached, from their posture, John assumed they were sitting at their desk again.  Whether they’d been working or watching Saturn through a telescope was another matter entirely.  “The world all saved for the moment?”

“For the moment,” John confirmed.  “So, where’s this data?”

“Right here,” Az shrugged, flicking a finger lazily to bring up a string of numbers and charts that they must have been keeping open, ready for John’s call.  They didn’t ask if he was sure he wanted to go through it right now, despite the fact John knew he had to look far more exhausted than they were.

Az could be rather mothering in their own way, when he was Earthside, but unlike Scott they backed off and let him be when he was on Thunderbird Five.  John appreciated it immensely, as he accepted the requested file and watched it download onto his Thunderbird’s systems.  It was automatically scanned for viruses, of course, but that was an automatic formality rather than a serious concern.  Most of the gathered data had been generated by Thunderbird Five in the first place.

“So, what d’you think?” they asked instead of making any comment on his appearance, leaning forward towards the holoprojector as though John was sat in their study with them, and not twenty two and a half thousand miles above their head.

John had been looking at data all day, strings of numbers and maps and other holographic symbols overlapping until they almost blurred together, except he couldn’t let that happen because that was when mistakes happened, and mistakes meant fatalities.  Mistakes meant threats to his family’s lives, to say nothing of those that had called for help.

This data was different.  This data had no life or death decisions attached to it.  It was scientific curiosity, nothing more, enough to keep his brain ticking along without the pressure of his vocation crushing down on him.  He could drop it, if he wanted to, and that freedom made it easier to focus, a welcome distraction from the what-ifs that lurked in the waiting silence.

It was fun, to talk through scientific data about black holes, strings of information that suggested a new one – and that explained why Az had begged the use of Thunderbird Five, because there wasn’t another satellite that could do such detailed data sweeps so far off, not in civilian access and John doubted in military, either.  Even at midnight, Az had no problems keeping up with him as he spotted patterns and pointed them out, letting the other astrophysicist draw conclusions and agreeing or disagreeing with them depending on how much sense it made.

They talked for hours.  To John’s relief, the world remained silent, a much-needed respite from the earlier chaos, and their conversation was finally brought to an end when Az’s head started nodding forwards, eyes brightening with moisture as they began to lose their battle against sleep.

Neither of them were strangers to pulling all-nighters, either for stargazing or for research, and John suspected Az had been up for a couple of nights in a row to be flagging so much, but out of the two of them there was no question who could last longer without much sleep.  Thunderbird Five demanded no less.

“Get some sleep, Az,” he told them after a particularly violent nod of their head.  The gel in their hair was failing, entire sections drooping so much they were almost falling down.  “Don’t you have a class to teach in the morning?”

Az shrugged a little sheepishly, letting out a massive yawn.  “’Swear you’ve got my schedule memorised better than me,” they mumbled, rubbing their eyes.  “Yeah, nine o’clock.  They haven’t stopped forcing astronomy students to get up at dawn yet.”

They’d never been a fan of that, or mornings in general.  If they had their way, they’d be almost entire nocturnal, so they could stargaze better.

That was one of the things John loved so much about Thunderbird Five.  Permanent stargazing, no matter the hour.

“Or astronomy TAs,” he said, and Az let out a tired chuckle.

“Yeah,” they agreed.  “Or us.  Guess I’d better try and catch a couple of hours before class.  Thanks for the-” they interrupted themselves with a yawn that almost split their face in two “-the chat.  Was really useful.”

“I’ll send you the transcript,” John promised, because everything was recorded on Thunderbird Five and no doubt Az was tired enough to have missed some of their theories in their note-taking.  “Check it over when you’re awake.”

“Thanks.”  Az yawned again.  “Catch you later, Ginge.”  They made a V shape with their fingers and flicked it like a wave.  “Az out.”

The call dropped.

John rubbed at his temples for a bit.  He was tired, too, but no longer the aching tired of earlier.  This was a tired that could actually be slept off, and John wasn’t one, to stay up when he didn’t need to.  Not anymore.  He got his sleep between rescue alerts, and the data discussion had soothed his brain enough that he could, now.

There was another alert, a signal that Tracy Island had tried to contact him while he’d been talking with Az and had his other personal, non-emergency lines set to do not disturb.  Only one, so Scott – because of course it was Scott, trying to check in – must have figured he had already gone to sleep.  Hopefully by now, even though it wasn’t the early hours of the morning like it was for Az, his family were all taking their own much-needed sleep while they could.

A quick check of his cameras showed his suspicions correct, to his relief.

John would call them back later, then.  For the moment, he’d follow suit and take his own nap for a few hours.

[ilovescaredysquirrel2]

The Lilo & Stitch remake has to be the most unnecessary remake Disney did

Okay, I'm going to be honest, I like some of the live action remakes that Disney made. Especially since some of the cartoon movies are outdated, like Snow White, Cinderella, Aladdin, and Beauty and the Beast were outdated and NEEDED remakes. I don't want my kids watching those movies! I made a post about the reasons why. Plus, even though the Snow White remake was cringe, it's still better than the old one where she's 14 and in love with a 30 something year old prince. Are we aware of the age gaps? However, there are a few of the movies that do NOT need remade and if there's any 2D movie they should have left alone, it's Lilo & Stitch! But guess what...

First off, Lilo & Stitch was made in 2000 or 2001 ish era, so it aged well. It didn't age poorly like Snow White, which was made in 1937 so obviously, that did need a remake. There was nothing about Lilo & Stitch that needed to be fixed. No age gap couple, cute family message, and good humor! Even the minor characters were likable. It's been a long time since I watched Lilo & Stich and I don't think I paid that much attention to it, I'm just seeing a lot more of the OG movie online recently. Also, not to mention that the female characters weren't hyper-sexualized, they had more normal looking bodies. Nani for example, she's probably the first Disney princess to not be super skinny (Snow White has kind of a normal bodytype but is still very skinny). Also, we can't forget about that lifeguard lady, who's curvy but not in a hypersexualized way. She doesn't have a 2 inch waist and her curves look like normal curves. Plus, she doesn't have a flat stomach if you look closely, so they went above and beyond when designing her (even with the hips, I think they gave her hip dips). Honestly, I love the designs in Lilo & Stich better than most other 2D Disney movies. I was never really a fan of vintage Disney art style either.

Now how did they screw up the live action remake you might ask? They ruined the story! Not to mention it didn't need a remake (when some of the other Disney movies did) but they ruined the story and made it worse, for their own political propaganda. Apparently, Nani gives Lilo up for adoption so that she could study to be a marine biologist in California, when Hawaii has a university that offers marine biology and has free tuition for native students! Disney obviously didn't care enough to do their research, and this remake was NOT written by Hawaiians, this remake was written by Californian (probably) white liberals who are nostalgia baiting the millennials and gen z, so that they could throw in their political views in a story that was literally about an alien finding a family. Disney is just proving that they don't care about anyone anymore, they just want money. I heard they canceled the Tangled remake because they got so much backlash on the Snow White one, and apparently they wanted to racebend Rapunzel too. The Lilo & Stitch remake was probably too far in the works for them to fully cancel, but I have a feeling that they're starting to learn from their mistakes.

My advice to Disney is just to maybe take a break on making movies unless you're working on an animated remake of High School Musical (a live action movie that didn't age as well as Lilo & Stich did). They're literally out of ideas, well that's an idea! They can no longer be self aware like Enchanted and Teen Beach Movie, making fun of the old movies but still keeping the songs. Anyone working for Disney who might be reading this, TAKE MY IDEA! An animated remake of High School Musical might work! It's the reverse, you're making an animated remake of a live action movie (if you still have a big enough budget for animation, that is). Honestly, I was 100% okay with old movies getting live action remakes until it happened to Lilo & Stich! Don't be afraid to bring back animation (just as long as Pixar isn't involved, that win or lose show looks so trippy).

Anyway, tell me your thoughts and it's okay if you disagree on some things I said, just let me know why. If you agree, please reblog and let me know your thoughts.

[cozmowrites]

novalunosis: prologue

Class 1-A! Bakugou x Class 1-B! Reader

Before you read ahead, this is just chapter one of many that's already uploaded on wattpad/ao3 and I wanted to share here in case anyone wanted to continue to read it as I will not be adding more chapters on tumblr.

read it all here: wattpad || ao3

=====

It was the mid afternoon when Vlad king announced to everyone that him and Aizawa teamed up to do a full month of training. Specifically with each other's students. Each class 1-A student would be paired with a student from class 1-B. They were chosen at random from a paper in a hat while Aizawa and Vlad King were in their meeting. Vlad King was revealing the pairs in my class, and Aizawa was doing to the same to his class.

But what I wasn't expecting was.. my partner to be none other than the explosion quirk guy. I would've rather had any other partner, but how he acted during the sport's festival, it really threw me for a loop. He was known to be aggressive and non-cooperative. I feel working with him will be a problem. I've watched him and his friend group from afar at lunch. He doesn't contribute and when he does, he's always yelling angry and insulting words.

I would watch as subtly as possible, especially when Kendo and Komori would chat with me. I would participate in their conversation, but figure out how my partnership with this Bakugou guy is going to work.

"I mean, I wish you luck (Y/n). Bakugou isn't great at getting along with people. Maybe ask Kirishima for his number or something." Kendo shrugged and I looked at her with a tilt of my head. Ask Kirishima? The red spikey haired guy? Isn't he basically Tetsutetsu's clone?

"He's the one that gets along with Bakugou the best, from what Midoriya told us once." Komori nods and eats her own food.

I just glance away from the two girls and look at him and his group. They're right, Kirishima has an arm around Bakugou and it doesn't even phase him it seems. So she'll ask when she has a moment without Bakugou around. Speaking of which, she watched him get up and shrug him off, throwing away his stuff and moving out of the cafeteria. I took the opportunity to get up and hurry my way over to the small group. These kids were the more special ones it seems. Even though we all went to the training camp and dealt with villains before the dorms were set in place, but they were the ones attacked by the USJ at first.

"Oh. You're (Y/n), right?" The pink alien spoke up, noticing me standing behind. "We saw you're partners with our Bakugou." She placed her chin on her fingers that she intertwined and propped up on the table. A smirk placed on her features, though subtle.

"Oh- yeah. I was wondering if any of you had his number, so I can talk to him about training this month and stuff." For some reason, my words came out in a nervous huff. How is this so hard for me? Usually I have no problem. Maybe texting with him over talking with him will be much easier.

"Oh, yeah, of course. No problem." Kirishima reached his hand out and I brightened up, handing him my phone so he could put Bakugou's number in it. I thanked him and hurried back to my seat.

12:30 PM

hey! kirishima, i think his name was, gave me your number!

im your partner from the class1-a and class 1-b month of training thing!

Read 1:54 PM

I looked at my phone and furrowed my brows together. So this guy will probably do this a lot. I let out a sigh and sat with my friends for the rest of lunch period.

+++

The end of school rolled around and I was changing out of my hero costume, done for the day with training with my class. I think the test and project is supposed to study each other's quirks and fighting style, and learning off of each other, but I doubt I'll be learning much from him by the way he's not responding to my texts so far.

2:43 PM

when can we meet to train?

Read 3:20 PM

I stared at the message I sent getting read roughly an hour later. Some of my classmates met to train right after class, and some are meeting to train around now so that they could get studying and homework in. But me? My 40 minutes was wasted sitting and waiting to get an answer. I'm just going to assume in the next 20 minutes or so. I took it upon myself to change into some pants and a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, texting again after seeing he still hasn't replied.

2:43 PM

when can we meet to train?

Read 3:20 PM

leaving me on read is insane and diabolical btw

Delivered

I just sighed and headed down to ground beta where most of the others were to be training. I honestly think he'd wanna be one of the lasts using the grounds. I'm guessing, he'd want to train at around 3:30 pm or 3:45. They have the gyms until 5:00 pm but mostly everyone goes right at 2:30 pm.

But as I got down there and time passed, I noticed it was past time for the gym to close, 3:30 turned into 4:00 which turned into 5:00 and then I was back in my dorms feeling frustrated. He's so.. I can't stand him already. And that's when my notification on my phone went off.

5:35 PM

I'm not wasting my time with 1-B extras.

it's a grade? what am i supposed to tell vlad king :(

Read 5:52 PM

I threw my phone on my bed and grabbed some extra clothes, and a towel, heading downstairs to the common area and baths. Shower, dinner, homework came and went and right as I was getting ready for bed, another text rang from my notifications.

7:46 PM

3:45.

Ground Beta.

OH MY GOD!! ill be there tomorrow!!!

Read 8:00 PM

I put my phone down to charge. He did want to train, or at least try. Maybe he tried to get out of it, ask Aizawa if he could trade partners, and it didn't work.

[ahrianee]

I'm an extremely shy and kind person, and I JUST followed you yesterday, but can tell you this...

If your artstyle was how Warhammer art was drawn originally, that blind, talentless flaw hiding behind anon wouldn't have even been here, nor replied. See...you can't take that useless...'thing' seriously. It's a sad joke, honestly. Hell, if your art *was* from a anime fighting game, I'd play it. It's gorgeous.

Poor, insignificant anon. It didn't read the room during a Tumblr Purge, and let it's schizophrenic imaginary friends convince it to stay, acting like someone will miss it. Oh, how amusingly pathetic.

And to that 'anon': Sweetie, you being mentally challenged over her art isn't her problem. You can stop hiding like the loose, unwanted in-grown tumor that you are, and mind your own business, if you're so inclined to target people out of self-hatred and envy. Learn to control yourself, because no one wants nonsensical mistakes like you, that speak from their anus.

So do please, stay off of her, and everyone else here who puts in time, work, and effort, that can actually draw and write. No one here wants you. You are not welcomed, nor will you ever be. Stay in your place, and mind yourself. That takes zero effort to do, for you. . .right? Hopefully you can comprehend all of this, if capable. Though I doubt it.

And to Ahrianee: For all that is common sense (which that anon 'throw-away' child doesn't have), please do not stop drawing in your artstyle. It's sexy, and like many here, uniquely definitive and recognizable. Don't let that intimidated parasite deter you over their insecurities. Spiteful, sorry abominations like them target others out of jealousy, because they know they'll never be happy like them, yet wonder why... Hilarious.

Self-indulgence and insert work is a breath of fresh air. You do you, Ahri. Always be yourself.🌿🤝🗿🍷

(Also, at the end of this...I really do pray that I'am wrong on the anon's part, because one can't be that dense...I hope for their sake. That's just concerning. But if I'm not, then...you proved me right. Congratulations, I guess... Please go apply for a mental evaluation... Yikes. 😬)

I feel like you've said everything so well, and at the same time I feel like I have nothing more to add to what you say.

Thank you for your words of encouragement, You took the time to write all of this and it has touched me so much, I am also somewhat shy, it is difficult for me to talk about things like this, I've loved drawing since I can remember, and I know my style is very soft and cheesy, but it's my style and I like it a lot!

So when I responded to Anom, I simply thought of the most correct and polite way, everyone has their own point of view and it is respected, there is no need to insult anyone.

And I think I have nothing more to say on this subject, it's best to just leave it and move on, I also don't want the person behind that Anonymous message to be "attacked"

I always acted with one phrase in my mind, "Don't do to others what you don't want done to you."

Thanks again for taking the time to write this to a silly little artist who makes delulu content (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

💕✨

[intheorangebedroom]

Hi Maddie! I hope you are having a wonderful September and you are enjoying the start of autumn. This might sound obsessed or weird, but PTMY and TYBTM are seriously some of my favorite things I've ever read... ever, like I'm putting it up there with novels I've read. It is insane to me how much talent there is in this fandom. Like the Pedro girlies are literal authors, putting out works of art. For me, you are the best of the best! Obviously, both stories have me very hot and bothered lol, but it's just the way you write intimacy and relationships, the peculiarities of your characters and the world's they inhabit so brilliantly, beautifully. I'm sure you know that at times you write like it is poetry! It is so immersive and I love it deeply. My question (apologies in advance) is about writing. I was wondering if you have any tips on (a) how you have improved as a writer, like in terms of how you've been to find your style? (b) how to overcome perfectionism? I've been wanting to take a crack at some Frankie ideas I've had, but I get so weighed down by self doubt and inertia. And also, I worry it's just not original enough. Okay, sorry for the rant! I will never be as good as you OBVIOUSLY lol, but for you I am grateful. I'm so excited for the next part of TYBTM and sad we are almost halfway to the end. I'm so excited for whatever you have in store for the future. Sending you so much love and hope you're having a great day.

Hey Nonnie 🧡

I apologise in advance for the length of this answer. 

Your kindness, your generosity and your time mean everything to me. I’m the worst at expressing gratitude when I’m paid a compliment. "Compliment" doesn't cut it to qualify what you said about my stories, it’s too much, it’s so incredibly kind. You made me so soft but also so much stronger. Thank you 🧡 My first impulse upon reading your message was to throw away my phone and scream I’VE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I’M DOING but I owe it to you to at least try to answer you. Also do you need some blood? A kidney? I have two. You name it it's yours.

I would like to start with the second part of your question, if you don’t mind. 

I have never ever thought any given piece I wrote to be perfect. At best, I think it’s not that bad, but that’s when I read it again a month after posting, because at the time I post it, it’s more like omfg if I read that shit one more time I’m gonna stab myself in the eye.” 

But life is too short for perfectionism. I’m sorry to be speaking like an old fart, but it is. You blink and it’s over. If you have a milligram of creativity in you, do not hesitate. Channel it. Create what you want, what you like. I’m serious. DO IT. Enjoy doing it. 

Self-doubt is a fucking bag of dicks. I’m riddled with it. In every corner of my existence. Every step of the way. Every word I type (not in my mother tongue…). How many times have I wanted to give up, especially during PTMY. The current tybtm chapter has fucking killed me dead. I hate it. It’s not good. Bad. But I’m forty fucking five years old and I’ll be damned if I let self-doubt and fear prevent me from achieving what I set out to do.

When I came back to tumblr in 2020, I saw numerous posts saying “you write for yourself first,” and I did not really understand what they meant. It’s nice to have an audience! It’s nice to be liked and validated! It’s nice to connect with people over something you’ve created. Musicians play live, and get a hell of a kick out of it, right? Why not us, writers? And one day, I think at the beginning of tybtm, it hit me. I understood. Fuck yeah I’m doing this for me. Because I need it. I need to tell this story. I need the satisfaction of having done it. The entire process makes me both incandescently happy and abysmally miserable, and you know what? That’s the fucking spice of life. I want both. I am alive when I write. Through the pleasure and the pain. So if you need it too, well, go for it. Don't let anyone, including you, tell you you're not good enough. Got for it.

There are 99% of chances that what you’re gonna write has already been written. So what? It hasn’t been written by you. No one sees people, life, or Frankie the way you do. Even if you write an age-old trope, even if you write the same trope over and over again in every story (me!), you’ll still bring your own precious singularity to the story, the characters, and the narration. That’s worth EVERYTHING. Please trust me. Maybe no one will like it. Maybe every one will like it. Whatever. At the end of the day, you still did what you set your heart on. I cannot stress enough how important this is. Carpe diem, baby.

Then, how did I improve as a writer, oh Nonnie, I’ve no idea. I don’t think I’m any good. I don’t think I am legitimate to give you any advice. 49.5% of the time, I think I’m too much (too gothic, too lyrical, too big with the feelings and emotions). 49.5% of the time, I think I’m not enough (not precise, concise, clear, good enough). But alright, I’ll try. For you. But please bear in mind I say all this in the most humble spirit.  

I write. All the time. In my head, in the shower, walking in the street, driving, aaaaaall the time. And then I type it down in a doc. And edit it and revise it again and again and again, until it feels smoother and/or I want to puke at the thought of having to go through it again. 

I try to take my time without panicking. If I’m stuck or in a bad mental place, I try to let it rest a bit.

My first year at uni, I studied screenplay writing. I would be unable to tell you precisely what I learned, but I think some of it is ingrained? In terms of conveying intentions through actions and dialogues (I know I tend to write pages and pages of introspection, and I swear I try to restrain myself, even if it doesn’t always translate to the doc).

Then, I’m an art vampire. I soak up everything I can, especially painting, music, and movies. I let it inspire me. I take notes on my feelings, fleeting emotions that I can’t articulate at first, and reflect and work on them until they become fully formed ideas I can inject in the writing. 

I read. A lot. And sometimes not at all when it feeds the self-doubt (comparison, you bitch!). I wait until I feel better, stronger. It may take time. 

With books/fanfics and movies, I analyse the narrative process employed. What I liked or disliked, what moved me, what didn’t. I take notes. To that effect, you can read reblogs of your favourite fics! Sometimes people reblog with some pretty neat analyses, just soak it up!

My obsession is finding the Right Word. I can spend days on the quest. A thesaurus helps. And sometimes it doesn’t. I also read my stuff out loud, because I like when it has a certain rhythm. And when the meaning of a sentence doesn’t work in a rhythm, I rework it tirelessly until it does. Fun times... 

I want to say that if you take the leap and start writing, after a while, you will feel instinctually what works for you. What feels right in terms of personal style. Maybe at the beginning you'll subconsciously write like someone else, but with practice and patience, your style will come out. If you need someone to cheer you on, I'm here.

Oh yeah because, very important, I whine to the very good angel friends in my phone whenever I’m stuck (they will recognise themselves if they read this)(okay they are @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0). I forfeit all dignity and beg them for virtual hugs. I don't know what I did to deserve them.

And lastly, I have been privileged to witness the genius of Kelli ( @frannyzooey ) in the works and wow. She's it for me. Everything she writes resonates with me, so I just soak. it. up.  

So yeah. to sum it up: carpe diem and be a vampire 🦇

Hope that helps 🧡

I’m also gonna leave that here: 

Claire ( @just-here-for-the-moment ) is one of the best people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet here. She’s patient, sweet, kind, and SO FUCKING SMART. Don't be afraid to reach out.

Nonnie, again, I'm so sorry this is so long. I sincerely hope you'll find something useful in all this gibberish. If not, come back to my ask box with any question. And again, thank you 🧡 From the bottom of my broken vampire heart, thank you 🧡

[brokentoys]

is it me or .... are people just more reluctant to follow blogs now? or maybe the RPC is just not as big as it once was and it feels that way? now, i'm not saying this is a bad thing -- after all, ppl are def free to have their boundaries and choose to write with whoever. but... i am noticing it's way harder to new blogs o' mine to gain traction. like i have blogs that practically "fail" just because nobody rly wants to interact with 'em or follow me back. HELL, when i started this blog, it actually took 3 months before i started getting new followers. for those 3 months, i only wrote with like 3 other ppl and those were friends or followers of my prev blog. and it's not a reaching out prob because like, i ACTUALLY did follow others and either never got any follow backs, or got a declined message (which that's fine too) and now this blog has a fairly good amount of followers.

but like i've had blogs that i've given up on or practically gave up on BECAUSE i have barely anyone to write with. usually it's my more niche muses with no rp scene. but like why i think this must be a new thing is because i was actually looking through my old RP graphics and i found some from a blog that was around 2016. it was another niche muse from a very old show (liek 1960s) and liek that fandom ALSO had no rp scene yet i had a "follow forever" graphic for reaching 200 followers???? that was so long ago that i don't remember much on that blog, but to see i had that many followers is just surprising. that's liek half the followers i have here.

and it just makes me wonder if people have just become more reluctant? more reluctant to follow and more reluctant to get out of "comfort zones" and write with characters they're not as familiar with? which again! is ok. if somebody wants to keep writing with characters they know, that's fine. but it does get a lil disappointing when you have ideas and they virtually go nowhere due to disinterest. it also just makes me wonder why things seem to have changed. is it due to how toxic the rpc became? is it bc the rpc in general is less active? is it because ppl just decide to stick to familiar canons / ocs 'cos that's more fun to them? hmm.

i guess to end this on a final note is that... personally, i care about muses but i don't care about them at the same time. like the whole reason i LOVE RPing and why i did it in the first place isn't to write with certain characters, it's to place my silly blorbos into situations -- it doesn't matter WHAT situation it is. it doesn't matter if we're doing "tails gets trolled" style rps and crossovers. my goal is to have batshit insane fun with other people. that's why i do follow muses from canons i've never heard of. it's also why i struggle to fill in interest checkers or when a mutli asks "what muse do you wanna write with?" because frankly? i'd be happy to write with ANY muse. like you can throw any muse at me, and i'm happy. oc? canon? niche canon? unfamiliar canon? i want it all.

[honeyhotteoks]

in the spirit of the writers' game (except its not actually a question so no presh) do you have any tips on getting integrated into fandom community? i have like 12 bajillion fic ideas bumping around in my head that i wanna gab to someone about but i dont know how i'd like.. get someone's attention without it being.. weird? or like manufactured... i'm reticent to post because so much attention spooks me Out of writing which is like, not the end goal lol

tldr how do i make friends please and thanks but in the least pathetic way possible

this is a great question!! i'll be honest with you, i'm not sure if i'm the best person to answer this, but i'll do my best.

for some context, i'm actually very introverted. i really struggle to make friends both online and in real life. while most of my meaningful friendships are fandom based, typically it's because a pretty extroverted person snapped me up and then i got comfy talking, not really from me doing the outreach first.

when it comes to writing and a writing community, i'm also pretty insulated. i would love to be friends with some of my favorite writers on here too, but honestly i just can never bring myself to reach out, and my adhd is really intense so i tend to miss messages/notifications/engagement when other people reach out to me.

all of that being said, if you're interested in creating a writing space for yourself in this fandom, i do have some advice, and maybe you'll be better at grabbing onto the potential friendships that do come from that, which is the part i struggle with.

to start, i'd recommend becoming an active participant in the reading community if you aren't already. i'd create a fandom blog for yourself here and/or on twitter and use that to just start engaging with fic you like - reblog stuff and add fun tags, compliment the authors you're loving, drop messages off anon from that account if that's something you're comfortable doing. just start getting your username and your pfp on people's pages more and more. (this is one of those reasons i'll never change my username or my pfp btw, people know this as me and they've known that for a long time so in a small way it's kind of my writer's brand)

then think about what you're writing or want to write. is it big multichaptered work? smutty oneshots? romantic imagines? list-style stuff / scenario stuff like "hyung line headcanons" etc? figure out what you feel compelled to write, not just ideas, and start to write them. write them for yourself even if they're "bad" or unpolished and just enjoy that process a little bit while you're engaging as a reader / casually making fandom connections.

once you feel like you might have ideas to share, i think it's completely fine to make a post asking if anyone would want to beta read or if anyone else would want to talk about fics/headcanons etc. if you really want someone to connect with before you ever post your fic, i think this is the best way. i personally don't love messages asking me if i would be willing to read or edit someone's fic because to be honest that's a huge undertaking and i always find i'm too critical / take it too seriously. i also think when it's done this way it kind of makes the relationship a little awkward overall.... some people might be okay with it and i might be overthinking it, but that's just how i feel in general. BUT if you find people by asking the community and people are reaching out to you, that's completely different imo and i've done that in the past in other fandoms.

then once you're ready to throw a hail mary and post something, whether it's beta read or not, i'd recommend taking some time to do the following:

consider the look of your post and the aesthetic. people are so much more likely to click on it if it's formatted well and has some kind of a header image. go look at what other people do, what you like, and what you want your fic 'look' to be.

edit, and edit again. i know it's exciting to want to post asap, but if you're nervous, read it again. in my opinion, fic that you post should be fic that you want to read. if you're struggling to read your own work because something is a little clunky or you find yourself skimming it...... someone else might feel the same

post it at the right time. you don't need to be a marketing major and try to like drive engagement, but if you post it at 3am on a sunday i promise you people will miss it, and then you'll be struggling with the feeling of why did no one like my fic that i spent hours on etc.

your first fics aren't going to get much attention. that is totally okay! keep going, keep trying, and over time you will find your audience.

reblog reblogs.... if you get a reblog of someone adding tons of tags / fun comments / a review of your work etc., reblog their reblog and thank them! answer questions! engage! opening that door in this way as a writer will help build a little community of your own.

i would say that over the last three years here i've gained a little community of my own. i have consistent readers, anons and mutuals i recognize, people that i look forward to engaging with every time i post something even if they don't realize it. that means SO much to me as a writer, but truly it took a long time to create that space for myself here. admittedly though, even with that being true, i really struggle with connection but that might not be apparent to people just following my blog. i guess this is all to say, comparison is the thief of joy. as you start to create your own space here, reader or writer, don't spend time looking at other people and other blogs and wishing you could have xyz too. focus on what you truly want, what makes you happy, and do it for the love of writing. the rest will surely follow in time. 💛

[ceiling-karasu]

I had a dream about one of the OCs I made a while ago (also murder mystery theater).

I know back in March I was discussing different AUs and OCs I could use for future projects, and I had a few issues with one that made me think I should axe that project, so I kind of put them on the wayside. (And hey, since we have been talking about neglecting certain OCs...)

My first problem was that I had four (fifth route scientist path absolutely not) different directions the AU hedgehog could go, but each way would require the OC to have a different personality and backstory. I wound up calling them Omelas, Yossarian (like Catch-22), POW, and Victorian mystery illness as placeholder names. Actual names would come much later. The other issue is that I later found out someone else had some similar ideas, but the ideas for each are different so I think it should be fine.

Either way, it was just a little too complicated to be viable, I thought.

But I had a dream this week that made me realize I could do all of the backstories and plots, if I split the one hedgehog into four different characters with intertwining stories.

Also, much more Flower Hill corruption than I originally had planned, but works out better.

It is kind of long, and only has basic ideas I want for the plot, so I'll put it under a read more.

Omelas

Some Flower Hill generals (or other high ranking position in the army) secretly invade some villages outside the borders of Flower Hill and abduct hedgehogs to pad their numbers. After all, the weasels will run out of bodies at some point, so they might as well throw some bodies that are not from Flower Hill at them.

Omelas is the child of a Korean/Ainu style village in which children are raised communally (and maybe girls aren’t given names until marriage, that is a regional thing in the past), and the hedgehog in question is just treated as an 'extra burden' since they are female. The area itself speaks a specific language dialect since it has been remote for generations, but the village head has been discouraging that.

The young hedgehogs are taken by the generals and sergeants, who mark them as Flower Hill hedgehogs trying to escape conscription, so no one asks many questions, especially since many of them can't give proper names, so other soldiers think they are lying. The military leaders involved get large bonuses for capturing deserters, as well as for how many conscripts they have under them, so two birds one stone.

Eventually, most of the other non Flower Hill hedgehogs die in battle, while the survivors plan rebellions behind the scenes.

Omelas, possibly as part of a ploy by the group to 'send a message,' causes a scene including destruction and threatening Flower Hill in the other dialect one day, that gets herself in trouble. The military police during the trial finds absolutely no record of her existing in Flower Hill before the army, which backs up the stories that had been going around, uncovering the corruption. The investigation unit that has to come in realizes that they now have an international incident on their hands if anyone finds out, and also if the records have been falsified, then there are an untold number of angry foreign hedgehogs planning a rebellion, and they don't know where they are.

Omelas is sent to work on a farm as punishment for the incident she caused, and also to keep them out of the way while Flower Hill tries to figure out what to do about the abductions (probably nothing, most of them are dead anyway, and it could be easier for the others to be written off as weasel sympathizers and ‘gotten rid of’), especially since the villages no longer consider the missing hedgehogs their own.

I kind of want her to be named after a mushroom. I really like the name Enoki/Enokitake, but that is a Japanese word, and it is Pine Mushrooms (songi beoseot) that are the major delicacy in North Korea, so I have to work on that.

But either way, she hates Flower Hill from the bottom of her heart, but also knows the weasels would kill her, so she has to bide her time and hope the rest of the survivors do their part.

Yossarian:

A young hedgehog from a family where each member has an impressive military career, especially in sniping (almost wondering if she should be related to Wonsi, my other hedgehog OC from a sniper family, but those AU ideas are not connected). When she was young, she found a sick and starving mouse child who had crossed the border and tries to help them, only for a squirrel friend a few years older than her to murder the child for being one of the enemy. Everyone praised the squirrel (possibly because they thought they might be next), who later went on to be a squad leader/general, which makes Yossarian question Flower Hill and why everyone outside needs to die, especially if they are too weak to be an issue. She doesn’t question the war or conscription in general, though, just why she has to do it.

Since she is an excellent sniper during conscription, her term limits keeps getting raised, and she is put in an 'exception' group. Like in Catch-22, this group can only end the conscription if they go on a set amount of missions, but that number keeps getting raised whenever they near the cap.

The leader of the group (I don't know military terms and commander seems to be wrong here) is the squirrel friend, who offers to let her out if she marries him in a televised wedding to show off Flower Hill's unity. At some point he forges paperwork saying that everyone in the unit has decided to stay in the military full time for another two years (have not decided if the 'exception group' explanation was a lie he came up with). Most of the group is happy that they did not have to waste the time filling out the paperwork, but others fall into depression, disrupting the unity of the unit.

Thus, Yossarian feels trapped and resents Flower Hill, while also feeling very protective of the few squad-mates she likes, and starts sniping enemy mice and weasels in the shoulders, in such a way that they can never hold guns again, but can still otherwise work. This earns her a reputation with the Weasel Unit. Killing someone brings no joy, but she finds it disturbing how excited she gets to wound someone, since it means they can finally be free, as she wishes to be.

But what would she even do outside of the army? Be a farmer? That would be disgraceful for the family, but can they really see themselves as being a part of the military or marrying the squirrel forever?

Finally, Yossarian snaps and assaults the commanders themselves when they call her in to send her on a long mission, screaming about the lies and false paperwork, which surprises and confuses them (also the squad mates who thought she was happy), because would have assumed she would be happy to work for Flower Hill in that way (oh, but there are a few like her every now and then, but they usually wash out earlier), but yes, that squirrel should not have done that.

He only gets a slap on the wrist, and Yossarian is 'diagnosed' with combat fatigue and stress due to expectations, but still needs to be punished, and is sentenced to work on a farm.

Meanwhile, a small investigation is started.

POW

A failed squirrel scout who gets captured and is a POW for a while before being rescued. But it is assumed he must have talked or turned, and is sent to a detention/re education facility instead to figure out what information they gave (he gave nothing). The detention facility actually does worse than what the weasels did to him, emotionally at least. Flower Hill was supposed to care about him, but they have completely betrayed him, and are not giving his injuries proper medical attention. Also, he is really afraid to go back out, considering everything he had gone through. Even the friends who are allowed to visit look at him as if they think he is weak and pathetic somehow.

He is not actually supposed to be in the detention facility. His commanding officer was a nepotism hire who accidentally gave him the wrong information, and then forged evidence of him being turning traitor to cover up his mistakes. Or maybe was even bribed by the weasel unit to give him over, and the rescue is a ‘problem’ for whatever deals he has going on if anyone looks too closely at the capture. No one in the facility questions the paperwork, though, and don’t explain anything to the squirrel.

This can go two ways:

POW eventually goes into sepsis from the injuries (maybe appendicitis, although really just humans, monkeys, possums, and rabbits who get that but hey, fiction?), and is only saved by the his old drill Sargent who was brought in to scream about what a disgrace he was, but recognized he was dying. That, or the facility gets raided by the Weasel Unit, and some enemy soldiers recognize him and appear so genuinely concerned about his health that he accidentally confesses and answers all their questions. Maybe both.

Or, he agrees to go back out on another mission so he can leave the facility. The handlers falsify some records to say he is fully retrained and recovered, but upon joining up with the Weasel Unit in disguise, has a panic attack and goes catatonic, which combined with his other health issues, freaks out the mice. The doctors turn out to be his original interrogators, who send him back because his reappearance in such a way actually answers the majority of the questions they had been asking about Flower Hill the first time they captured him, so they have no need of him anymore.

The workers could actually be fired or jailed for what they did to him, so they write it off as him developing sympathies for the enemy and helping them (perhaps albeit under duress) which nets him a labor sentence on a farm (especially if they spin it as he somehow brought the weasel unit to attack the facility and let them in). But his physical injuries linger, making it difficult for him to work, and there may be quite a few mental issues involved, which only gets worse as actual investigations begin and find him at the center of the turmoil. Also the drill Sargent starts asking a lot of questions.

Victorian Mystery Disease.

Basically a hedgehog with a failure to thrive issue. They have been sickly since birth with some sort of fatigue disorder, which everyone assumes is laziness. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot move very far without feeling exhausted and slowing down. Maybe some chronic pain issues as well.

Eventually he gets diagnosed as a malingerer, and as punishment to 'fix him,' he is sent to a farm to labor as punishment.

He is very upset about this, and has been frustrated his entire life with his inability to be 'normal,’ like everyone else.

Honestly, I’m kind of thinking Fibromyalgia. I’d didn’t expect to find this term when looking up symptoms as I was about to post, I was going to leave it open ended or give them regular anemia problems.

Murder Mystery

As I said in the original post, The idea for all of this came from when I was playing The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog the day it came out (those actual playtime segments were really stressful and made my mind jump around), and I did want a train to be involved at some point.

Which serves as a good meeting point for the characters, while they are being transported to the farm. They can't exit the train, so they are mostly allowed to roam free.

So, it could start en media res, which each of the four accidentally getting drunk at different points and bemoaning their problems. (Omelas because her guard suggested she tries a drink because she will never get the chance again, Yossarian to drown the stress and shame, POW to steady his nerves because he saw Weasel Unit soldiers, and Vic because it was an accident).

A bartender has the most horrifying night of his life, making him question his habits of getting strangers drunk to listen to their life stories, and briefly reconsider his alliance to Flower Hill.

A foreign reporter has the most fascinating day of her life.

The Poirot style international detective is very concerned.

Meanwhile, the train tracks have been switched, stranding the train in the snow, while several prominent people on board are murdered one by one, and the four are some of the prime suspects...

The Farm

The original plan was for the farm to be at the ocean. But that would provide too many opportunities to escape (although weasel unit infiltration would be easier). I am actually thinking of making the punishment farm be in Dol Jogagga, the rock carving/sculpting village I made up. After all, the sculptures are important for international relations, so they could use some help with the farms.

And they were roommates.

The four live in one small farmhouse together and farm what they can. They are told that if they can manage a certain amount of harvest several times in a row, then they can go back to the rest of Flower Hill.

They dislike each other either for being foreign or for being weak, but eventually heal and unlearn propaganda, maybe. Which is the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

So, basic farming, recovery, and slice of life in this village. Dol Jogagga is protected with enough sentries that there is almost no way to escape without them noticing. But they are remote enough to not stigmatize the laborers like the rest of Flower Hill. In fact, they are a little suspicious of the commanders, and can feel sympathy for the four, so are relatively nice to them, and try and help the best they can. Also remote enough to have their own dialect as well, which the four sometimes accidentally use, to the amusement of the villagers.

Maybe some enemies to lovers with Omelas and Yossarian. POW and Vic can just vibe as roommates and try and fix/understand their illnesses together.

Omelas learns that life does not have to be a tragedy and starts to relax a bit. Maybe starts growing mushrooms and starts a successful business. Everyone else learns to find farming very relaxing.

The corrupt investigative officers and other officers realize that the four are actually enjoying themselves, and people are asking too many questions, but cannot change the punishments because it turns out they got kickbacks from them in the first place. Plus, changing the punishments would bring even more suspicion upon everyone involved in the corruption plots, so they try and trick them into leaving on occasion.

Corrupt investigative officers/military police keep coming by to try and make the four confess to something since otherwise they know too much. Maybe sometimes Weasel Unit scouts do sneak into the village and shenanigans ensure.

Anyway, thanks to the hurricane, it has been raining for days here, and some parts of my area have been evacuated. I'm uphill, at least.

But it had me dreaming that it was a hazy, pleasantly humid, raining midday afternoon. The type of day when the chores are done, and there is not much to do. The hedgehogs and squirrel are cuddled up at the entrance way of the house, either drinking tea or mushroom soju, sliding door opened. In the distance, one of the nosy and aggressive investigators has arrived to harass them again, but since it was an unsanctioned visit, did not know the exact house, and are falling into muddy fields, getting further and further away.

It was very relaxing.