#Mantra Lovebug

[deviousnarrator]

"Oh! Stanley! I hope you're not minding the new look.. Things feel a little fuzzy.. Is it just me? Or is it a bit warm in here?"

@lamuliz thank you for the colour pallette! Such amazing artist too! I LOVE YOU GOOBER

[demonicrhythms]

@deviousnarrator

Pulling his hand back with my own, I find that his are slightly smaller. This virus is dangerous. I am lucky that I cannot fall victim to it. Others are not as fortunate, seen even here, directly before my eyes. I just need time. Mantra. Stay here. I will assure that no harm comes to you while we fix this wretched affliction.

“Stay.”

LoveBUG AU by @things1do :)

Mantra [Right] owned by @deviousnarrator

Percival [Left] owned by myself.

[wilted-woods]

Just a drawing that I've finished-

Mantra belongs to @deviousnarrator and Valentino (who's been turned into a YipYip) belong to me! ^-^✨

A teensy lil side note (summary of the ALT):

Also I'm...not really in the best situation and feeling pretty bad as of right now so I'll be inactive for quite a bit and pretty much refrain from being active or showing any forms of activity until things get better..my apologies hh..-

...

I..don't really know what else to put here..

Uh- anyway- yeah- just a lil drawing I made since I still had the idea in my head-

I'm still working on the story if some are still curious about that! And having much more ideas but like I said, I'll be refraining from expressing any of them and showing any signs of activity until I feel better! Hope y'all understand! <33

[mamadovie]

I left a rq on your old blog and idk if it was in your drafts or not so I'm just gonna send it again lol

[I think I left a request about Vilkas with an S/O who finds comfort in his heartbeat or something like that but I just realized you write for Kaidan and I wanted to know if I could switch it from Vilkas to Kaidan lol]

𐙚 . . . KAIDAN.

A N: Hi, lovebug! I do remember this request, I'm pretty sure you asked for a werewolf reader x non-werewolf Vilkas. But yes, I shall write this about Kaidan instead with a werewolf reader. As usual, gender neutral reader.

A B O U T: After a long and hard day, all you want to do is listen to Kaidan's heartbeat.

W A R N I N G S: None. Just Kaidan being beautiful!

Kaidan doesn't know about this little fun fact about you. He just thinks that it's your favourite position to cuddle in — with your head on his chest. He thinks it's about warmth and general comfort.

He loves to cuddle, he loves to feel close to you, and due to his height, more times than not, your ear will be placed around that region anyway, so as a werewolf with a love for the sound of his heartbeat, that's great.

If you're a vampire, you're... Well... Fucked.

If it's something you wouldn't tell him, maybe due to embarrassment of sorts, he'd probably never know.

The furs scattered the bed in a messy formation of multicoloured mountains that encase the limbs underneath — yours and Kaidan's. His big hands, scarred and loved, traced circles on your body, silently drawing the letters to both of your names like a prayer. How much this man loved you, only the Gods knew the fullest extent. Even Mara blushed at his thoughts towards you.

You noticed his heart would pick up in pace every so often, always as you would move your hands. To play with his hair. Trace his features. Line the markings on his skin. Where you kiss that place on his collarbone. You smiled against his skin as your fingertips absorbed the pace of his heart, how warm your stomach felt as his breathing slowed into a lullaby of deep breaths and tiny sighs. But as always, his heart still skipped a beat as your fingers curled his inky hair lazily.

Moments like those reminded you both what it meant to be alive. To have a heartbeat. To know he was safe. Okay. You held a lot on your shoulders, knowing he could die, all because he wanted to stick by your side. The thought terrified you. So these moments were everything. To fall asleep as you tapped your finger to each beat his heart made. Repeating the rhythm like a mantra, or a poem, maybe. The poem he'd write for you every night.

His hand reached over to yours, gently kissing the finger that tapped, "Can't sleep, love?" He asked, deep voiced and riddled with much needed sleep. You simply shrugged your shoulders, not keen on the idea of saying, 'I can't sleep if I don't take in each beat of your heart.'

Instead, you say, "Not really. You?" Your finger continued to tap, even as he held your hand. A routine, a habit. He hummed out, wondering what song you were thinking of. But instead of asking, he joined in, smiling in the darkness until he laughed a little.

"What song is it?" He asked.

You held back a giggle, of course he thought it was a song.

"Ragnar the Red." You lied, a smile spread across your face. You felt him frown. You were out of tune. He knew you were no bard, but surely not that bad?

"Ah, right. Love, never become a singer." He jested, you both laughed as his crimson eyes watched the ceiling with sleepiness.

"Nah, I'm more of a ... Poet."

"You're definitely something. Now sleep, long day tomorrow." He kissed the top of your head before shrugging his body into comfort.

As you planted a kiss against the bare skin that cloaked his heart, you made sure not to forget to listen as it beated in tune with your own.

[arcielee]

Let's spread some positivity! Tag some of your fellow content creators here and let them know why they are absolutely amazing!❤️

Here is my ode to other fandoms outside of ASoiaF, as well as the collection of Ewanverse writers who I just fucking adore.

Read more to save space!

The Last Kingdom

@itbmojojoejo You are such a talented writer and I adore your new hobbies/obsessions? Your gif creations are fucking wonderful and you are just an utter gem all around. 💜

Some of my favorite TLK writers also include: @bhxrdy @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

I also adore the screenshots shared by @transfinan and @dailytlk gifsets are so nifty!

@breanime is just wonderful. I enjoyed the rotation through fandoms and I always get excited to see what they are currently into. Also, their writing is fucking amazing. 💜

Stranger Things

@theold-ultraviolence I found them because of our mutual love for Aemond, but they also write for Eddie Munson and I just love them oh-so much. 💜

@runningmunson Your Aemond Targaryen stories brought me in, but I actually just adore anything you share with us. 💜

@uglypastels Your story Not Wholly Evil is what actually had me break away from HotD and dive into Stranger Things. Your prose is wonderful and I just devour it all. 💜

Other nifty writers for this fandom are @lovebugism @jo-harrington @whoahoney @word-wytch @storiesbyrhi

Misc.

@chiss-and-crackers It started with HotD, but I legit adore every fandom you touch and share. Your blog is definitely one of my favorites and you brighten my dashboard. 💜

@poetic-fiasco Thank you for rekindling my love for Loki/Tom Hiddleston. Your stories on ao3 are fucking wonderful and you have been so lovely all around. 💜

@evita-shelby Your pieces are enchanting and allow me to enjoy fandoms I am not even a part of. Also, your Tom Bennett story! Oh my. 💜

@4yvle1 art is absolutely breathtaking. Their HotD is what had me follow, but everything they create, their style is absolutely breathtaking. 💜

Other talented writers who have moved on from HotD, but I will read anything they write: @1800-fight-me @eddiemadmunson @jasonsmirrorball @annikin-im-panicin @killergirlfuria

Ewanverse misc.

@assortedseaglass I will repeat this as my damn mantra, but I just adore your prose. Your Billy Washington story is what won me over and I will read everything, anything you post! 💜

@babyblue711 You are seriously such a delight on this hellsite and your Salad Days story, Redemption, took me on an emotional ride. I am a fucking fan of everything you create. 💜

@helaelaemond You have absolutely won me over for the Helaemond ship with your writing, but the way you write other Ewanverse characters is so fucking brilliant. I just adore your prose so thoroughly. 💜

Another honorable mention for @myfandomprompts because their gif creations and their stories for Tom Bennett and Will [Salad Days] is just fucking wonderful. 💜

Same for @lonnson: your art, your writing, your weird fandoms that I cheer on every time I see them on my dashboard is just lovely. Like, I have to mention you twice. 💜

[whatwouldmickeydo]

Tagged by a whole bunch of lovebugs @gallawitchxx @celestialmickey @metalheadmickey @gardenerian @creepkinginc to do A Very 2023 Tag Game ✨☀️🌻

hello, my name is: leah 💕✨

i live in: a swamp

in 2023 I’ll be turning: thirty fourrrr

describe your 2022 in three words: trying, tumultuous, introspective

three words you hope will describe your 2023: joyous, creative, indulging

something you’re looking forward to this year: spending time with the people I love, creating things, learning something new

something you want to accomplish this year: be nicer to myself!

somewhere you’d like to travel to this year: so many places! Ireland and Chicago are topping my list right now though

something you’d like to do more of in 2023: yoga, moving my body with intention, creating just for the sake of creating, being more present, loving on the people who make me feel happy and alive 💕✨

and finally, what’s your 2023 mantra?: be more intentional, embody every single Mary Oliver poem

Tagging the last five people in my notes @queentangerine @goldstarsoup @spaceofentropy @luminois @friend-bear

[gingerbreadandcinnamon]

Narratorverse: think a void where all the narrators, Stanley's, and self inserts can jump in and interact. Any type of au (alternate universe) you can think of is there. From dragons to moths, to just a guy, we have it all! The recent events that have happened are the glue trap incident (the narrators got trapped in a giant glue trap), and the gala (big gala, everyone got dressed up, and an adorable misundersranding). I recommend checking out @blackkatdraws , @braisedhoney for the full chains as they are some of the biggest names here but we also have @raccoontank (space narrator), @deviousnarrator (mantra, our winged boi), @beartitled (the bear adventure line!!!!), and @semisocialporcupine (snake narrator) just to name a few. But those should give you a good idea of the variety here! (No need to be shy, you can jump in @ any point and we welcome with open arms)

Lovebug depends from person to person. For some its a lovesick type virus, for soem its more obsessive in consequence, for others its just "im going to make my character look like valentines day slammed into them" (<- me)

As for the games plot. Well...I think the narrator himself put it best.

"This is the story of a man named Stanley."

-Stanley (also known as employee #427)

-The Narrator (the faceless old British man with an attitude (/affectionate))

-the curator (the feminine voice you hear in the museum ending)

-mariella (the only other human we know of and only see twice)

-the time keeper (the settings person and employee #432 who apparently lost his mind, look it up, its cool)

-employee #425 (the second Stanley glitch)

-the adventure line(tm)!!!! (Yes, this living arrow does have a tm at then end of its(tm) name when in game, so we keeps it)

-the bucket!!!! (...its a bucket. Theres an ending where you can basically give your entire body to the bucket, yes its strange, we love the bucket)

parallels

[muffindaddystyles]

I WANT YOUR BELLY.

Summary: The shimmery vest of Harry's on you makes him combust on the spot ;)

A bottle of wine gone in a span of minutes. Your giggles treacly and slurry as you poke his heart-shaped, wine stained lips matching with his pink refulgent vest and he grins toothy-ly sweat sheened on his perfect features and his nose twitches into besotted sniff of your fragrance, leaning down to murmur his lips to yours.

“What got ya gigglin’ like tha’ lovebug?” You shake your head in slight carelessness. His brows furrowing in confusion, mouth parting musingly into a soft chuckle when you shimmy his vest down his arms leaving his upper half naked and all beautiful for you to admire.

“Just relax and see.” You whine out timidly tip-toeing on your toesies to the centre of the hotel room you guys are staying at -- well more like fucking morning and evening with a little tinge of exclusivity everytime.

When you came back to this cosy place of yours after an hour of his show ending that shimmery feeling of proud for him and the jitteriness to love on him was still there, more like doubled up when your eyes weren’t able to drift away from the stiff bulge forming in his pants from all the adrenaline and heat pumping in his body due to praises.

He takes pride in it, absolutely basks in the novelty of it.

His dimples dings up into a wicked smirk, the heels of his palms sinking into the soft bedding as he man-spreads quite sexily and leans into his own weight then straightens up immediately with bright eyes and a shit-eating grin when you strip down your clothes slowly.

“You givin’ me a strip tease baby!?” He howls playfully and you shushes him through sputtry giggles, head lulling at your shoulder and you laugh at the top of your lung as he rolls his eyes to his skull in the most erotic way and squeezes his straining member with the cup of his large palm when you get rid of every item of clothing you had on your body and with hesitant glances his way wears his vest.

It accentuates your curves beautifully, falling a little over your thighs from how big it’s since it’s his’s and it gives the most pristine view of the crescent of your tits and the valley between them.

His stomach froths with heat, the fabric of his pink flared bottoms from his splotching with the dollops of his precome and his bare chest heaves with raged breaths as you rub your one feet over another in timidness, knowing you’re drunk enough to do this but sober enough to contemplate how to put it infront of him.

Though they both know even if you move it an inch away to show him your perky tits, it’s over for the curly head.

“You know how belly dancers got this cute sparkly shiny dresses to make them appear more bendy? I’ve always wanted to do that! It seems so fun!” To your defence you always wanted to dance as carefree and fun as they do all you didn’t know was that it’ll be like this – giving a literal fever to your boyfriend and arousing both of you to such an extent where all his fierce eyes are indicating he’s about to strike forward and throw you on the bed and pound into you reckless.

The room fills with her sweet laugh when Harry fans himself, puffing out huge inhales of breaths and smirks at her cheekily.

“A lap dance would be much appreciated, thank you.” He's almost about to burst because she sure as hell looks amazingly stretchy and bendy and very breed able in this shiny thing.

“What a gentleman. Now, put on some music so I could give you a show you really deserve.” You command him and he nearly whimpers wanting to crawl towards you and spanks that bum of yours.

You’re suppressing your chuckles when he almost falls face first into the carpeted floor while scrambling to put on some music and when he returns back he’s rocking back and forth like an impatient kid -- doing anything in his will to give a bit friction, some relive to his throbbing cock.

“Promise that you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You point a finger at him, eyebrow raised to assert a little bit of power you’ve over him.

“C’mon baby! My balls are turning blue d'ya think I could ever make fun of you when you’re being such a good girl f'me?” His groans shaky and hoarse, nostrils flaring and his hands sandwiching between his thighs to subside the ache that you caused.

Hot white pleasure surges through each of his cervices and rattles through his bones upon the absolute lewd and smutty sight of you dancing for him with your eyes affixed on him like a seductress and it pelts his skin hot.

“Fuck.” He’s cursing under his breath, as you curve around gracefully and shakes your ass for him teasing your fingers over the waistband of your lace panties.

You bite down your lip when he puts his fingers under his tongue with his mouth sucked around them as he wolf whistles for you.

“Yes you go baby!” He yells at you making you laugh rosying your features and not failing to make you feel tingly under his passionate gaze.

The he looks down at himself in rather pique tugging his tight briefs a little away from suffocating his dick that's swelling up awfully fast and leaking with every graze and touch making him hiss groggily through his teeth loudly.

His reaction makes your cheeks flush and your toes curl against the soft carpet, making you all gooey with your own slick.

He almost looses it when you roll your hips and your tummy ripples raunchily.

You’re taken aback when he’s striding towards you, cupping the nape of your neck roughly and pressing his thumb into your nervy pulse pushing you till you’re pressed into the wall and he’s muffling your surprised squeaks with a big fat smooch to your lips which turns into sloppy heated work of mouths, tongues slick and naughty against eachother, teeth nibbling and teasing, lips too desperate to be parting away and when they do they’re hovering over eachother with their breaths hot and fanning.

“Look at y'being a filthy tease.” He tuts, warm fingertips tickling down your chest and sneaking under his vest to palm your tits as he ducks down to lick a fat stripe up your throat then sink his teeth into soft underbelly of your jaw.

“Now tell me who taught you to dance this good?” Everyone should sit down and takes notes from one and only Harry Styles; the man sure knows how to lie through his teeth because what you pulled moments ago was just clumsy drunk flailing of limbs.

“God gifted.” He chuckles mockingly, tapping your bottom pouty lip.

Your neck stretches far giving him more access to mark you as his’s, your fingers manoeuvring into his sweaty ruffled up curls when he glances up at you intensely with your nipples sucked in his mouth and his hand gliding into your panties – smirking goadingly at the squirm and pathetic gurgle of your tone.

“just like this pussy of yours?”

Except his eyes no blade can control you, no sharpened knife. That lascivious gaze’s enough to threaten a storm up your thighs and cause a rainfall between your legs.

Carefully, he puts his knees on the floor one by one while he paws at your hips to vignette admiring kisses down your midriff.

“Stop! It tickles!” You gasp giggle when his fingers palliates into your soft love-handles nipping and lapping then sponging tender kisses to your belly, your back arching abruptly with a low crack your blunt nails scratching down the wallpaper when Harry coos and spurts noises of admiration.

“Can’t help it, poppet. I love your little belly so much.” Your mouth parts around shallow breaths when he nuzzles his nose against your heat and engulfs into the tangerine smell of your arousal, pressing a kiss to the damp spot and murmuring against it with his calloused palm hardly pressed to your quivering tummy.

“Love feelin’ myself snug in your belly, how it warbles and gurgles fo’ me t’ fill it up with me cum,” His gruff tone sending cold shivers down your spine, making you wetter and slicker, pussy lips clenching around nothing making squelching noises catching Harry’s attention and he smirks ominously -- startling you with a gentle nip to the inside of your thighs then ripping your panties in one harsh tug.

“You love takin’ my cock in this cute belly of yours don’t ye' kitten?” He asks you, eyes glued to the way you melt into his touch when he parts your glistening pulsating folds away with his middle and index, mesmerised at how drippy you’ve managed to get for him as it coats his digits then tricks down his wrist thickly.

“Hmm. Guess like I’ve no option but to treat myself to the sweet pussy of my belly dancer.” He hums roguishly, making you bob your head vigorously and pulling at his hair to nudge him to do something anything to quell this ache that's soaring like a flame in wind making you embarrassingly more slippery every passing second.

Your eyelids skewers tight, fingers falling lip atop the mop of his curls and knees quaking thanks to Harry’s strong biceps straddling you over his shoulders as he spreads your legs wider apart and grips onto your thighs with his all might and strokes his tongue in one tantalising hot lick from all the way to your slit up your pulsing clitoris wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub into a nasty suck and toys it around with his tongue.

“Ha –- H ... Harry!” You whimper out meekly grinding your cunt against the faint stubble growing over his cupid-bow, pleasure spiking into your each pore at how good it feels.

“Mhmm kitten, tell me does daddy makes y'feel good? Warm and nice?” A string of saliva connects his lips and your clitoris. He presses his two fingers to it moving them up and down to lube them then to rub your clit in tight little circles, putting right pressure and attention to it as you cry out slumping against the wall and grabbing onto the nearest furniture with a mantra of harryharryharry booming in your head.

“Yes, yes, yes. You’re so good to me,” You mewl out impishly incasing his head perfectly between your thighs, trembling in his hold when he eases his ring and middle finger inside you gauging for your reactions and carousing in the way your face falls placid into pure bliss, your lips wobbly and the corners of your eyes dotting pink.

“This feels good, moppet?” He asks gruffly curling to caress the spot that sends you into wreck havoc and plunges his fingers deeper inside you, the tip of his nose stuffing into your mound as he licks into you hungrily and sloppily getting his cheeks and chin all messy and shiny with your juices.

“Bet, daddy’s cock feels better. Stuffs y’belly more good.” He growls, the vibrations jolting you in your skin. His fingers fucking into you quicker and deeper, pushing his knuckles to your weepy tight entrance – your cunt swallowing his rings.

Your chin tips up towards the ceiling moaning breathily, thighs trembling and hands gripping his shoulders that’ll leave guaranteed bruises as the ministrations of his mouth and tongue on you, his fingers thrusting in you and his face making a mess out of your drippiness become too much for you sending you into a over drive of buzziness making you lightheaded and floaty.

“C’mon kitten drench me, cum in daddy’s mouth.” Is all it takes for you to do what he asked for and you almost fell forward if not for Harry’s support squirting with loud and wounded moans.

He almost combusts in his pants when you grit carnally riding his face and shoving yourself down into him, not able to stop coming while he encourages you, soothing your aching thighs with gentle strokes, “That’s it baby, atta girl.” And “You did so good f'me kitten, g’na show you how hard ‘m for you.”

"Cute. How bout I fuck you in every one of my outfits?" He pats your cheek, smacking a big kiss to it and doesn't wait for your response before throwing you over his shoulder and landing a stinging slap to your bum.

His dark lustful eyes indicating that he’s not done with you yet.

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

LBSC Secret Admirer Exchange 2022 -Songs, Snowballs, and Storms

This year I got to participate in the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirer Exchange 2022. 

And, @ladybugs-and-black-cats, I’m your secret admirer!!! 💖

I didn’t have time to finish editing all of the chapters, but here is the first one! The rest will be coming soon. 

Happy Valentine’s Day 💖

AO3

Chapter 1

He pulled his beanie lower over his head as he rounded the corner, hoping it would hide the blue in his hair enough for him to be able to blend into the crowd. He was grateful for his fans, he really was. If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t be where he was now. 

But there were some fans that were… very dedicated. A little too dedicated for his liking. 

Usually, he didn’t have too much of a problem with them. Usually, his security team and manager were able to well… secure and manage any situations that came up. But Anya and his security team were all sick with some kind of flu. 

Add in the fact that his latest album had just dropped a week ago… well, most fans were respectful of his privacy. Most didn’t mob him on the street. But there were enough that did. 

He slumped his shoulders, trying to make himself look shorter than he was. If he could disappear into the crowd, he would be fine. Most people were too busy with their own business to pay attention to him. Except for the eagle-eyed fan who had been camped outside his hotel. 

At least a good number of Parisians shared his love of black clothing. That helped him blend in a little bit. The bright winter sun provided a useful excuse for his dark sunglasses, which hid his eyes. And given the long sleeves of his coat, no one could pick him out of a crowd based on his tattoos. His hair and height were problematic though. 

The beanie and scarf helped with the hair, but he knew bits of it were sticking out. But every time he tried to poke them under the fabric, strands would just end up poking out of another part of the hat. And as for his height… slumping was the best he could do. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. No doubt it was another text from Anya, checking in to make sure he had made it to his sister’s place ok. He was supposed to wait out the remainder of his team’s flu as far away from them as possible. Anya had told him that under no circumstances was he allowed to catch it. Not with all the press events coming up. 

But the car that was supposed to have picked him up and taken him to Juleka’s place had never shown. Something about a terrible traffic jam. And then, as he had been standing outside the hotel, waiting on hold with the car company, he had seen someone across the street point at him. 

And then all the other people around that person had turned to stare. And then he had seen the giant signs and t-shirts they were wearing, all with his face and various phrases plastered all over them. 

And then, like a stampede, they had started crossing the street. Making a beeline right for him. 

The smart thing to do would have been to turn around and duck into the hotel, where he could hide. But as Juleka loved to point out, he was an idiot. And like an idiot, he had darted off down the street, heading in the direction. 

Which was how he had found himself in this situation, darting down streets and alleyways, fleeing a mob of determined fans. 

He just had to make it to Juleka’s.

He just had to make it to Juleka’s.

He repeated the words in his head like a mantra, letting the force of the words and the looming threat of fans with little regard to personal boundaries propel his feet forward. He could hear the mob behind him. Thankfully, they were still pretty far behind him.  

But they were gaining fast. 

He wasn’t going to make it to Juleka’s.

He wasn’t going to make it to Juleka’s. 

His eyes darted around frantically. He needed a place to hide until they lost interest or went searching for him somewhere else. But an alleyway wouldn’t provide him much cover. And he risked being cornered. The bookstore up ahead looked like it was closed. 

The bank, maybe? Given the way he was dressed, if he tried to sneak in they might think he was trying to rob the place. The cafe? He would be spotted through its huge windows in an instant. 

With growing desperation, he rounded the corner and his eyes landed on it. 

MDC Boutique and Atelier. 

The shop’s window display was full of mannequins wearing delicate dresses and lacy blouses. And a whole lot of pink. It was perfect; no one would think to look for him in a shop like that. And even if they did look in through the windows, the mannequins would block their view. 

Without a second thought, he raced across the street and slipped into the boutique. 

A bell tinkled pleasantly as the door opened and shut behind him. He blinked and looked around as he took tentative steps into the shop. 

Everything about the shop was pleasant. 

The floors were a warm, honey-coloured wood, and the walls were painted in a shade of white that had the faintest whisper of pink in it. Racks of clothes were carefully arranged throughout the floor space, displaying all sorts of dresses and skirts and coats and blouses. Soft-looking sweaters were neatly folded and stacked on shelves that ran along one wall. Pink drapes hung along the back of the store. And on the wall opposite the shelves of sweaters, cherry blossoms had been painted to frame the white countertop.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” a pleasant voice called out from the register. But he couldn’t see the woman from where he had hidden by the shelves of the sweaters. But he could hear her; it sounded like she was on the phone with someone. 

He drifted farther towards the back of the store, placing as many garment racks between him and the windows as possible. He hadn’t come into the store to shop, but he didn’t want to look suspicious. He didn’t want the woman to think he was trying to steal anything. So as he wandered about the back of the shop, he looked at the clothes on the racks. 

As a chart-topping singer, he got to wear a lot of pretty incredible clothes. Usually, those were reserved for press and performances—he preferred comfort over style—but he knew the hallmarks of high-quality clothes when he saw them. And these clothes were a step above anything he had ever worn.

The designs, while about as far from his style as possible, were artistic. And the details were exquisitely done. He pulled a dress off the rack; it was black lace with long, sheer sleeves and a sleek silhouette. It was exactly the kind of thing Juleka would wear. 

“Were you shopping for anyone in particular today?” He nearly dropped the dress at the sound of the woman’s voice behind him. When he whirled around to look at her, his jaw did drop. 

He was looking down into one of the loveliest faces he had ever seen. Wide blue eyes blinked up at him from under luxuriously long and dark lashes. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks reminded him of tiny constellations, and her rosy lips were curved into a sweet smile. Her raven hair was swept up into a bun, but her bangs and a few stray locks framed her face. 

She was wearing a soft white sweater and a pink skirt that reminded him vaguely of a rosebud. She was the very picture of soft elegance and sweetness. 

“I uh…” Before he could even begin to process his thoughts, much less retrieve his vocabulary from the depths of his mind, where it had seemed to hide itself, music blared out of nowhere. 

Familiar music.  

The woman smiled apologetically as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She grimaced as she looked at the caller id, and then silenced it. “I’m so sorry about that, a friend of mine tends to forget I work a regular schedule in addition to-“

“I know that song.” As soon as the words blurted out of his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. Real smooth. And the last thing he needed to do was draw any more attention to himself…

“Really? It’s my favourite!”

“Oh?” he said, rather weakly. His knees were suddenly feeling pretty weak too.  

Her smile turned incandescent. “Do you listen to Luka Couffaine as well? I love his music. This is one of his very first songs- I've loved it since I first heard it. There’s so much soul and passion in it. All of his songs, really. And it's like the music just reaches out and touches my heart every time I listen to it! And his lyrics are nothing short of poetry…” the woman's eyes widened as her voice trailed off, laughing nervously. 

No one had ever said anything like that about his music. At least, not to his face. And that song was her favourite? No one ever said it was their favourite. Except him. 

A faint flush bloomed in her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, here I am going on about music when I should be helping you.” 

“It’s fine.” He managed to squeak out. “You really like his stuff?”

“I love it! He’s a real artist; you can tell how much of himself he puts into his music. And well,” she laughed, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment, “his stuff is really inspiring. I always listen to it when I design. But enough about me and my taste in music! Were you shopping for anyone in particular today?”

His mind was still trying to figure out how to function after everything she had just said about him and his music. Honestly, he was fairly certain his brain was still rebooting from its pretty girl meltdown. But she was looking at him expectantly. “Oh, I uhh…” he thrust out the black dress towards her. “I thought my sister might like this.” 

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. Do you know her size?”

“She’s pretty thin, but she’s really tall too. I think she might be a thirty-four or thirty-six, but I’m not sure…”

“Well, if you decide to get it for her, you can always return or exchange it if the fit isn’t right. And we do offer in-house tailoring and alterations as well… but that’s a forty-four. That would be too big for her. Let me-“ the woman yelped as she tripped, though over what he had no idea. 

Without thinking, he rushed forward to steady her. But as he did, he felt his sunglasses slip down his nose. As he tried to push them up with his elbow, all he managed to do was dislodge his beanie. 

The woman, now in his arms—and holy cow she was even more beautiful up close—was blinking up at him, her mouth gaping open and a dumbfounded look on her face. “You... you’re…”

They both jumped at the sound of the shop bell tinkling. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was opening and closing. But then she straightened, stumbling back out of his arms. 

She leaned back to see around the garment rack they were standing behind. He slumped a little lower as she did so. Despite the fact that mere seconds ago, she had seemed lost for words, she managed to call out in only a slightly strangled-sounding voice. “Welcome. I can be with you in just a moment, I- I‘m just with a customer now. Or if you would prefer to browse-“

“I’m looking for someone.” 

The woman’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back so she was no longer hidden behind the clothing rack. “I’m sorry, but I don’t-“

“He’s tall, super hot, blue hair.” He froze. With wide eyes, he watched the woman, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t give him away. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t release any personal information about employees or customers.”

“He’s not one of your employees, and he’s obviously not a customer,” he bristled at the snide yet bored voice. “He’s a rock star. Luka Couffaine? Is he in here?”

The woman put on the kind of customer service smile he remembered from his days working at the pizza place. “I’m sorry, but there are no rockstars in here. Only clothes. You might try the record store a few blocks over?”

“Whatever,” the teen grumbled, before saying a little louder, “I told you he wouldn’t be in a place like this.” 

If the comment bothered the woman, she didn’t show it. But she did watch the front of the shop with a steely gaze, holding out a hand to stop him when he tried to stand up. 

Finally, she sighed. “Ok, they’re gone now.”

“Thank you so-“

It was like a switch had flipped in her; she went from standing, calm, cool, collected, to pacing in tight circles. “Oh my gosh! You’re Luka Couffaine!” The woman’s voice was fluttery and nervous sounding. It was usually a surefire sign of an oncoming gushing session. With a sigh, he put on what he was able to muster of a smile and waited for the inevitable onslaught. 

“You’re Luka Couffaine and I didn’t realize it and I tried to sell you a dress and you don’t want a dress you just wanted a place to hide from the fans and I went on about your music to you…” he didn’t know how she was still talking, given she hadn’t taken a single breath. “… and you were just being polite and I was being so-“ she gasped, turning to face him. Her face was one of absolute mortification. 

“I am so sorry.”

He stared at her blankly. That had... not been what he was expecting. And as her rambled words rattled around inside his head, he felt his smile growing into a genuine one. And it kept growing. It kept growing until he was grinning. And then...    

He burst into laughter. 

The woman gawked at him as he tried to get himself under control. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he wheezed. “I shouldn’t be laughing. But why on earth are you apologizing?”

“I-I...” the woman stammered, blinking up at him. “I must have been so embarrassing! Fawning over your music and-“

He raised a hand to cut her off, gasping for breath as he tried to get his laughter under control. “You complimented my music. And you were really sweet about it too. And you didn’t blow my cover when that fan showed up.”

“But that was just the right thing to do!” she protested. 

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Plenty of people would have sold me out. Or,” he added thoughtfully, “they would have tried to corner me themselves.”

“That’s terrible!”

“But you didn’t do any of that. You helped me. And-“ he raised his eyebrow when she tried to protest, “and you treated me like a regular customer. Like a regular person.”

She hung her head. “Until I saw who you were,” she mumbled. 

“You were surprised, that’s all. Everyone gets thrown for a loop every now and again.” He certainly had been the moment he laid eyes on her. “And you’re the first person in… a long time to just treat me like a regular person.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. And it was really nice. So maybe we could keep doing that?”

“O-ok.” She looked back up at him, biting her lip. “Were you really thinking of buying a dress for your sister? Or was that a cover story? It’s ok if it is-“

He began to chuckle as she cut off her own rambling by clapping a hand over her mouth. “I did just come in here to hide initially, I won’t lie. But I really do have a sister, and I think this would look amazing on her. So if you could help me with the sizes…?”

Her smile brightened, back into the sweet and sincere smile she had given him before he blew his cover. 

As she helped him pick out the right size, a thought occurred to him. “We’re kind of on unequal ground here.”

“What?”

“Well, you know my name. But I don’t know yours.”

“Oh,” she squeaked, her cheeks flushing a brighter shade of pink. “It’s Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“MDC, for Marinette Dupain-Cheng… wait. Dupain-Cheng like the bakery?” 

She nodded brightly. “It belongs to my parents. It’s where I grew up.”

“That must have been fun, growing up in a bakery.”

“Yeah, though it could get pretty hot in the summer with the ovens on.”

“Beats having your house spring a leak. Or worse, falling overboard in the middle of the night.” He laughed when here brows furrowed in confusion. “I grew up on a houseboat.” 

“Oh,” she giggled, "I can see how that could be… inconvenient.” 

By the time she had picked out a size based on what he had told her about Juleka’s approximate size and height, the conversation was flowing freely. It was nice. It was better than nice. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such an open and easy conversation with someone he hadn’t already known for years. 

He didn't want it to end.  

But even though he tried to drag it out by deciding to pick out something for Rose as well—he didn't want Rose to feel left out when he gave Juleka her dress—by the time Marinette was ringing up his purchases, it still wasn’t enough. 

She was so easy to talk to. She was as clear as a musical note and as sincere as a melody…

“Do you have any paper and a pen I could borrow?”

Marinette handed him a piece of crisp white paper and pencil. As quickly as he could, he scribbled the words out onto the page and then tucked it safely into the inside pocket of his coat. 

It had been such a long time since he had had inspiration hit him like that.

“Did the spark of inspiration strike you?” Marinette was smiling at him, leaning on the counter next to the bag with the two dresses in it. 

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“My friends always tell me I get this far away, and then really serious look on my face when the inspiration strikes. And then I have to get it down on paper, even if it means sketching out ball gowns on napkins.”

He chuckled alongside her. 

It had been such a long time since he had had inspiration hit him like that.

It had been even longer since someone understood him like that. 

There was no way he could let this—whatever it was—go. 

“Hey, this is kind of out of the blue, and there’s no pressure; you can totally say no, and I won’t be offended. But… could I take you out on a date?" 

***

“Hey, Jules, I’m here!” he called as he breezed through the door to her apartment. He didn’t bother knocking; she had buzzed him up and told him to just come in.

She rounded the corner and glared at him, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned against the wall, blocking his way into the living space. “Just where have you been all this time? You were supposed to be here ages ago. When Anya called to ask me why you weren’t answering your phone, and I had to tell her you weren’t here-“

"Shoot!" He had completely forgotten about his phone. It had vibrated a few times while he was talking with Marinette, but he had been too caught up in the conversation to care. He pulled it out of his pocket. There were notifications for a bunch of missed calls from Anya and Jules, along with a bunch of text messages. 

Juleka's glare melted into a glower. "Shoot? That's all you have to say for yourself?" 

“I'm sorry! I got caught up hiding from some fans-“

“Are you ok?” Her annoyance instantly melted into concern as she strode over to him to inspect him for any injury. 

“I’m fine. Better than that actually.” He could feel his face splitting into a grin. 

She raised a perfectly groomed brow and looked at him quizzically. “What do you-“

“And I even got you and Rose presents.” He held the bag out to her. She snatched it from his grasp and peeked inside, only to gasp in delight. 

“Well come in then, dummy. I’m still mad at you for making me worry though.” She added quietly as they went into the livingroom. 

“I am sorry-“

“You should be,” she muttered before raising her voice. “Rose! Come in here! Luka brought up presents!”

After Rose had given him a scolding for worrying them, she and Juleka tore into the bag. He watched them cry out in delight as they inspected their new dresses. Their smiles were wide and bright. 

But their smiles had nothing on the way Marinette had smiled when he asked her out. And they had nothing on his smile when she had said yes.

Next Monday couldn’t come quick enough. 

[deviousnarrator]

HES NOW IN THE BBG POSE OMG I CANT STOP LOVING HIS NEW VERISON! AAAAA

[vellichorom]

i sincerely can't even find the words i want to to express just how IMMENSELY honored, flattered, & SO very thankful i am that you would go & make all of this gorgeous artwork just for me, & dedicate- NOT ONLY A WHOLE MONTH'S "-TOBER" EVENT TO MY SILLY LITTLE GUY, but a whole month's work PERIOD of STELLAR, deliciously & skillfully rendered pieces, each & every one of them, with so much thought & love & effort poured into them that will absolutely NEVER go unnoticed, unappreciated, OR unforgotten, no matter WHAT.

I HOPE MY WORDS, AS SIMPLE AS THEY FEEL TO ME, WILL DELIVER AT LEAST A SMIDGE OF HOW MUCH I ADORE YOUR WORK & JUST HOW STRONGLY I FEEL ABOUT IT PLEASE GOD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

because having only delivered not even a fraction of my appreciation, can we please talk about thierry's hairy old man hands that look even more scrumptious in every image. the pronunciation of his knuckles in that way i desperately want to mimic. can we talk about how you manage to make me sit back in my chair with how handsome you make him look sometimes ( all the time but fucking hell that SMOKE SHOT, THAT CONFIDENT POSE IN THE COWARD IMAGE ). can we talk about the coward image in which you reflect an aspect i've yet to properly explore & did it so impactfully. can we talk about the callbacks to the game that i ALSO appreciate as someone who doesn't ( but would like to ) draw more directly game related stuff. can we talk about how sicklyill & yet so alluringly charismatic you make his lovebugged look LOOK. can we talk about the mantra/thierry fusion which is HONESTLY A VERY GOOD REPRESENTATION of what that would actually look like that you did SO QUICKLY. can we talk about the shit under the cut !!!!! the honest-to-god perfect depictions of his character in the most seemingly out of nowhere contexts & in the smallest details & in every drop of literal blood on display. can we talk about that tasteful, visceral depiction. can we talk about how you GET his character. can we talk about that man at the fucking beach because i'm sure someone more than me would love to talk about his fluffy tiddies at the fucking beach

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THIS IS ONE OF THE MANY COOLEST THINGS EVER TO HAPPEN TO ME / THIERRY & HOW MUCH I GENUINELY CANNOT BELIEVE YOU DID THIS & HOW I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT I DID TO DESERVE THIS UTMOST LUXURY BECAUSE I WOULD LIKE TO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

for THESE, & for EVERYTHING, lily; thank you so, so, so, SO much.

Paratober 2023

So I am unhinged. Very, very unhinged.

And I decided that for Inktober/Paratober I'd draw Thierry for every single one of them (or involve Thierry in some way) Because, as I said, I am violently unhinged. Of course, I did that! It took me a bit because I had a THREE PART EXAM and was a week behind with stuff, but TODAY I caught up with everything! Isn't that WONDERFUL! The days are going to be VERY out of order since some of them contain blood and I can't really "spoiler" them so some will be under a cut. I'm using three different Paratober prompt things for my own sanity. The first two are the "Main" Paratober ones, both canon and non canon, by @/themochimadeoftaro and then there's "The Stanley Drawable 2023" Prompt list made by @/a-game-of-beginnings.

All that being said, here it is!:

Note: This one is actually Mantra and Thierry's fusion! Designed by myself [insert proud grin here] Under the cut here is going to be Gore, blood, Spoilers for Chapter Ten of The Narrative Parable (Link: READ IT )and the wORsT oF aLl (HEAVY SARCASM) A shirtless man! Good god how could I...

Anyways, be wary if you proceed please :) You have been warned. Other Note that's kind of at the end but also not because wehoa;fdlsi A huge thank you to @vellichorom for being supportive of my cursed antics and violent obsession with Thierry <3 I really love your guy so much lore and all. Not only has he given me the motivation to actually draw regularly where usually I would just give up, but so have you. The rest will be posted individually each day (or every other day if I end up having to miss one) Had to PUT SPACE here because TUMBLR IS STUPID and decided to add the KEEP READING AT THE GODDAMN TOP like a STUPID IDIOT if you read it a certain way

haha get it? Fresh off the pr- [Gets blown up]

He's gonna get sunburnt I stg

[magentamedicines]

One-Shots: Rapunzel, Rapunzel

-------------------------

"Papa Papa!" The little girl's voice echoed through the cold halls of the household, shrill and full of uncertain air.

"Shshshsh- it's ok lovebug I'm here, I'm right here, what's wrong?" A man swings the door open, a man who looks more like a boy, barely old enough to drive himself to school.

"I saw- there was- I died," the little girl weeps, stolen mascara streaking down her face.

She calls for a parent that is not truly a parent, and the boy repeats his mantra again.

"Cori it's ok- he can't get you here- he cant get any of us here-" Michael, the boy's name is Michael.

He has stolen away with a sister and a broken dream.

"B-but what if he-" Cori's fingers find their way to her hair, clawing and scratching and tearing at black streaks of familiarity.

"He wont, I promise he won't, you need to get back to bed lovebug," Michael whispers, pulling the little girl's hands away from the tangled tresses that reach just barely to her knees.

"I want a story," she says, a harsh whisper, like a fork being scraped within her throat.

"Alright lovebug, but then you go to bed," Michael says, reaching over to grab a brush off of a desk.

Cori shifts a bit on the bed, now moving to pick at the hem of her dress.

"Once upon a time. . .

There was a princess, and she was beautiful and loved by all who knew her

Yet she did not know many, for she lived her life locked in a tower, with only the mice for comfort

She was watched carefully by her kingdom, yet never saw its outskirts

The princess grew older, and as she grew, so did her hair, long tresses that covered the floors of her dark tower

Till one day it grew long enough that she could toss it down to the ground, and the princess fled her tower under cover of midnight's mane

Cori had heard this story before, many times, it was her favorite, but she always fell asleep as soon as it ended.

"Goodnight lovebug. . ."

"G'night papa. . ."

[blogchirayu]

"Life Mantra" I will never give up as long as I am breathing. -Chirayu!. #mantra #lovequote #lovequotes #quoteoftheday  #wordswithkings #lovequotesforher #lifethoughts  #honestlyworded #spilledink #wordsmith  #bymepoetry #wordgasm #bymepoetryasia  #typewriterpoetry #livebywords  #untwineme #poetsociety  #prose #societyfeelings #chirayuwriter  #globalwordsmiths  #sadquotepage #writerscommunity #wordsofwisdom #quotesaboutlove #lovebug#drunkpoetsociety #omypoetry #poetryislove  #ilovewriting https://www.instagram.com/p/BssrKbKhR-o/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=rbudzuq3rc8o

[casualbeautyprunefreak]

#lovemusic #headphones #facetime #selfiesaturday #selfiequeen #mansion #lovelive #headshot #facepaint #loves_nippon #girlsbestfriend #lovecat #lovethisplace #personalizados #personalized #selfiestick #portraitgames #personalstyle #loveart #mantra #loveis #lovedit #lovebirds #girltime #portrait_vision #facemask #lovefl #manifest #person #lovebug https://www.instagram.com/p/BsJXc0PBFnN/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1iliczmnash2y

[lvebug]

every move brings a twitch or hiss of pain from spider-man and, even as she focuses for any potential threats, he's the loudest thing in the room to her. her relief at finding him is continuously muddied by the ache of seeing him in pain. this is spider-man, who has saved the world and saved her, and she just wants to take all of his pain and his anger and hold it so that he doesn't have to anymore. she doesn't know everything he's gone through, but she knows it's been a lot. he's spider-man, he's saved the world, isn't that enough? how much more does he have to give?

it reminds her of why she became lovebug, in part. here was a hero in new york that was so much closer to the ground than the gods and metal men of the avengers. he was a friendly, neighborhood hero who cared so much for the people in his city. and yet when he left sticky finger-print shapes on windows and swung over houses, he was all alone. he doesn't have to be all alone with andie here.

there's such a heaviness to his voice that it nearly breaks andie. all she can do is hold on a little tighter and support his weight a little more fully. you're not alone anymore. "it's okay, you're okay." she speaks hardly above a whisper, "you're not alone anymore." he knocks their heads together and she gives them a moment to just stand there like that—both remembering that the other is alive, safe. or at least, that's what andie's doing; the mantra as much for her as it is for spider-man.

"c'mon," she gently—oh so gently—tugs him forward again, "we're gonna get you outta here." andie had followed a trail of destruction to find him. spidey's fight with a mysterious new bad guy had been well documented, before they both disappeared out of existence, and she had simply started from there and worked her way out until she found a sign of her beloved friend, captured and dragged away. "i promise."

with an early warning system so lovingly named spider-sense by the man in her arms, andie feels relatively comfortable taking it slow and steady (that does win the race, after all). she lets peter set the pace. "what happened? who did this to you?" she's not one for revenge, but she's certainly going to remember this name.

lovebug’s strength is hardly a surprise, but it is something that sometime’s slips peter’s mind. for all her pacifism and lack of interest in throwing a car, she’s just like him— exceptionally strong from the bite. he’s seen her keep up buildings and doors, but still as she holds him up there’s a quick look of surprise, and a “wait,” as he’s unsure if he’s fully ready to move yet. but they have to keep going.

her eyes meeting his hardly comes to his attention. masked, he can't see any panic that she might hold, and he has little awareness of time itself to know how rapidly she looks away. his mind is nothing... nothing but a mix of all of his sensory wires crossed. it sounds like tv static.

“thanks, thank you.” there’s so much earnestness in his thanks, tears managing to roll down his face. he gently bites down on his lower lip, head tilting down, and arm shooting up to his side where he feels more pain from moving. he can’t think about holding his head up, can’t focus on what’s in front of them both.

peter moves only as much as he can, which is a foot at a time, one leg dragging, and with his breathing labored. lovebug beside him is a welcome force to lean against. she's warm, she's here.

the arm around her shoulder moves, his hand gently pulling the side of her head closer to his, until their heads knock just slightly together. his hand doesn't move away, just pats her. "missed you too, buggy."

[deviousnarrator]

He's so adorable with his lovebug form, and I still love Percival! grrr im thrashing you

@deviousnarrator

Pulling his hand back with my own, I find that his are slightly smaller. This virus is dangerous. I am lucky that I cannot fall victim to it. Others are not as fortunate, seen even here, directly before my eyes. I just need time. Mantra. Stay here. I will assure that no harm comes to you while we fix this wretched affliction.

“Stay.”

LoveBUG AU by @things1do :)

Mantra [Right] owned by @deviousnarrator

Percival [Left] owned by myself.