#but at least my eyes are getting blessed by beautiful art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 2 years ago

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radio cure | steve harrington

an unhappy you meets steve harrington and his merry band of dorks. he shows you that some things are worth sticking around for.

5k words, fem!reader she/her used, tw mentioned/implied suicidal ideation please don’t read if that’s going to have a negative impact on you (no graphic imagery. but reader is passively suicidal and dealing with the other factors of that), robin steve + eddie chaotic trio, friends to lovers, multipart, swearing, friendly teasing, sarcasm, artist!steve, 90s au

.•° ✿ °•.

You're twenty two when you decide to kill yourself.

It's a warm day. The sun shines like a flower bud unfurling, a faint hint of golden yellow masked by cloud cover. You're savouring the brief moment of blessed cool as you walk around Lover's Lake, your ipod in one hand, headphones around your neck.

The flowing pants you're wearing help mitigate the heat around your legs, an itching, slick thing. Warmth feels like oil on your skin. You tip your head back and smell the grass, the lake water, the dry mud under your feet. You're thinking it's as nice a day as you're going to get this week, and you're forlorn, because it doesn't make one drop of difference.

You look up at the blue sky, squinting against the light, and you think it to yourself resolutely. This is going to be my last year. When your savings run out you're giving up.

It doesn't feel conclusive. It doesn't feel scary. It's just a decision.

You walk over dry grass until you reach the short pier on the leftmost side of the lake and sit down. You pull your headphones over your ears and bite your lip when the music isn't loud enough. The dock is rough. You're uncomfortable immediately. You want to go home, but you pull out your little craft sketchbook made of yellow paper and a pencil you've sharpened with a pen knife, staring out across the lake for something to strike you. A duck. A goose. Anything at all.

The thing is, you don't want to draw. You aren't some master, though you try, and you aren't a natural talent… You try sometimes. Nothing seems right. Most people have a style, charm, but you could draw a picture perfect copy of the day in front of you and still feel the lack; you have no idea what it is that makes other people's art beautiful, and that's the problem.

It doesn't matter. You put the sketchbook away. You have nobody to impress but yourself, and besides — you're not the first person in the world to feel uninspired. Thousands of people must feel it everyday, and they aren't throwing any pity parties. You peel off your cardigan, ball it up, and lay down with the fabric behind your head. You can hear the soft pant of a dog across the way, the happy chattering of a Frisbee game. Under the dock, little bodies thwack the planks, tiny green frogs that occasionally hop in the grass nearby.

You press your arm against your stomach and you fall asleep not long after that, your ipod playing music a few feet away.

—

Steve Harrington doesn't know why he stops to look at you. You're just a girl enjoying the summer sun, and he doesn't mean to be a creep. But you've left your stuff laying in small hills around you and your body's lax. You're asleep.

He kneels down next to you. Enough room to swing away if you try to stab him for perving. He isn't perving, he reasons. He wants to check if you're okay.

He tilts his ear toward you and holds his breath.

You're snoring.

Good, he thinks, crawling back to the far side of the dock, at least two feet between you. You're sleeping.

He sits down, knees up, hands between his thighs, and looks out across the lake. The sun shines high as the clouds shift to reveal it in full force, a burning yolk. It kisses every bit of green foliage it can find, dappled sunlight everywhere he looks. Steve is out today to draw whatever beauty he can find, and the light across the water riding the rippled waves of ducklings and brave human swimmers seems nice enough. He peers out of the corner of his eye at you, deems you still sleeping, and takes the pocket sized sketchbook out of his denim jeans.

His pencil is a stub folded between the pages. He lays down graphite in big sweeping lines, more focused on the impressions of shape than the specifics. It's hard to see a coloured world in black and white values. Steve isn't great — he's been drawing for two years now, and that feels like both a lifetime and a flicker. Every day he learns something new about making art, and every day he looks back and feels embarrassed at what he made before. The start of his sketchbooks make him cringe. This one is a mixture of pride and tepid reluctance.

Being bad at something is a stepping stone at getting better. Not every drawing he makes is good, but hopefully it's teaching his brain to be better. He doesn't know what he believes about art but he likes to draw, and he has gotten better.

The point isn't in being good, he'd told Robin. I just need something to do. Before I go crazy doing nothing.

He draws the lake. He loves the way it comes into being. Ten minutes can turn grey splotches into trees, and bluegrass, and the heat rising off of the water. He draws a duck when it swims really close, though he has to abandon it when it swims away, leaving a half formed lovecraftian creature to haunt the page. He draws the dock, and his shoes, and your shoes, and your hand curled weakly next to your ipod. He draws your wrist, though he stops quickly.

He looks at your sleeping face.

Steve thinks you don't look like anyone he's ever seen before. He notes your lashes, your brows, and your nose. The sun emphasises the fine hairs across your cheek, and the texture beneath them.

He wants to draw your face, but he thinks drawing your hand and your shoes might have been too much without permission. He lets you sleep for a while, and then when he realises the heat is making him dizzy, he can't leave you there to bake.

He rips a sheet of paper out of his sketchbook and shoves the small book back into his pocket. The dock groans as he stands, and he casts a shadow over your face and upper torso.

"Hey," he says.

You flinch awake.

"Don't panic," he says, which is something a pervert might say, so he amends, "don't freak out, I'm just worried you're gonna cook your brains. I didn't want you to get sick."

You sit up. You look kinda cooked already, blinking and disoriented.

"You okay?"

You don't look up. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you for waking me up."

"Yeah, sure. Here."

He holds out the drawing of your hand. He doesn't think it's good, doesn't want you to see it, but he already did it. Giving it to you will ease his guilty conscience.

It's unlike Steve to bail, but he bails. Your fingers are barely brushing the paper when he's wiping his palms on his thighs and stepping away.

"Bye," he says, uncertain. "Try not to fall asleep again!"

—

It's not so weird. Sure, he'd made your fingers skinnier than they really are, and he made your shoelaces look like spaghetti, but they're good drawings.

You're trying to read a book in the corner of Benny's when he finds you a second time. He hovers, and you're not cool, you aren't, you're working with what you've got. Not many people skills.

“Hi,” he says.

"They were good drawings," you say, in lieu of your own hello, thumbing at the pages of your book all full of jumpy nerves.

"Thank you, I'm… new to it. My best friend, she's– she's actually nicer than she should be about them, I can't lie. I was going to say she thinks I should be banned from picking up a pencil, because I wanted to make you laugh, but. She's nice when it matters."

You can't keep looking down, it wouldn't be polite. You dog ear your paperback and let it lie against the tabletop, greasy to touch but you doubt it'll make a difference. The book is old and had cost you 50 cents at Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's yard sale.

He's tall. Hair falls around his face and curls gently against his cheeks, a sandy brown. He's wearing a hat. He hadn't been wearing one the day he'd given you his drawings, but you can understand why he needs it. The sun is an inescapable force: sun stroke has half the town down for the count. The whole reason that you're in Benny's is because it's air-conditioned and shady.

"Do you want to come and eat with me and my friends?"

You say no automatically. "No, that's okay. I don't wanna," —you don't know what to say, so your voice hikes up awkwardly— "impose."

"You don't have to, but if you want to, you're not imposing." He twists at the waist and nods to a booth across the room, where a boy and girl sit. When they see you seeing them they look away. "Sorry, they're dorks. There's usually more of us, but Jon's in work and Nancy's in Emerson, so…" He seizes up.

You wonder why people are so afraid of being awkward. It terrifies you, to think one day you'll fuck up and be awkward and the other person will remember it and laugh, but looking at him now, you can't see why it matters. It actually makes you feel better, knowing he's worried too.

"I only brought enough for the milkshake," you say.

"I'll get you something."

"That's– no, that's okay."

He hesitates. "You'd be doing me a favour. I love them, really, but I can't stand it when they're together, they bully me."

It would probably be worse to reject his offer and sit here lonely while they laugh and talk. You'll worry they're talking about you.

"Okay," you mumble, picking up your book and your milkshake.

He grins at you and you follow him through the diner. It's not busy today, but there's still feet to fall over and backpack straps to tread on, so you watch the floor.

"My name is Steve, by the way."

You tell him your own name, which brings another quick smile to his face. He slows as he approaches the booth of his friends and beckons for you to slide into the empty side before following you in.

"Guys, this is– Eddie, what the fuck is that? We said no gross shit at the table."

"This, my friend," Eddie says, words rolling around his mouth grandly, "is a monster."

It's a little man made of coffee stirrers, sporks, and chewing gum seams. It's kind of gross, but it's cute. Grossly cute and cutely gross.

"We're about to eat."

"You're stepping on his artistic licence," says the girl, her voice distinctly pretty and a tiny bit hoarse.

"Disgusting," Steve says.

You shift on the leather chair underneath you and anxiety pulses in the bottom of your stomach. They're ignoring you, but not really. Both have lifted their eyes to look at you, and, in sync, they smile. The girl's smile is startling, lip gloss lips and white teeth. Eddie's is softer, less happy and more reassuring.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie says, though you'd figured it out. "That's Robin. Do you think my monster is gross in the gross way or gross in the sick way?"

"He's cute," you admit to thinking. "But the gum…"

"I didn't have any glue."

"Steve told us about his drawings. If he's holding you hostage right now, blink three times, okay?" Robin jokes.

Eddie and Robin lean their shoulders together and start a bit where they count your blinks. There's murmurings about shelters and how they can definitely throat punch Steve hard enough to make him mute. You're stunned at being the object of a joke and don't know how to react, feeling like you've been whacked and now there's cartoon birds flying around your head and they can all see them.

Steve grabs the menus out of the rack and slaps one down in front of everybody. "Alright, team. You know the drill. Last person to choose what they want has to buy drinks." He spares you a glance. "Except you. She's on me because hostages don't pay for themselves."

"I would make such a pretty hostage," Eddie says.

He is pretty, in fairness. Dark curls thick with baby hairs frizzed up in the summer heat frame a pale face. He has big brown eyes.

“And talented,” Robin adds, poking the gum man until he falls flat on his face. The head pops off and Eddie shrieks, not loudly but with a passionate upset about him that makes you laugh.

Steve leans over. “Please choose quickly so I don’t have to pay for Robin's lemonade addiction. No pressure.”

“I’ll just have what you have.”

“With a coke?”

“Sure.”

“Robin?” he asks.

“I want a cheeseburger with a lemonade and then, if you will, another lemonade.”

She dumps her menu in Eddie’s lap, who looks up from his decapitated figure with a look of defeat.

“Wh- hey, she cheated. She hurt my dude.”

“Rules are rules.”

Eddie sulks and accepts everybody’s money. He slinks up to the window like an annoyed cat. After he’s placed the order, he looks back to the table and flips the bird covertly.

“So, how old are you?” Robin asks.

“Twenty two.”

“How’s that?” she asks sympathetically.

“Robin.” Steve chides. “She’s twenty so she thinks she’s a baby.”

“I am a baby. This is my first year not being a teen, which means it’s my first year as an adult. I’m one.”

“We have this argument a lot,” Steve says, though not with any bravado. Simple explanation, his voice soft and warm. “When being an adult actually begins. It’s not the adult part that even matters, it’s the not having rules that fucks people up. Look at Eddie. He’s been out of school for a year and he’s been arrested three times.”

You frown, not because his getting arrested would bother you (depending on the charge), but because you’re surprised, and surprise is quick to appear as anger on your face. His shirt and rockstar rings, his nice smile, his gum man — you’d assumed he was a huge nerd. His arrests are a surprise.

“What for?” you ask, before you can remind yourself that invasive questions are rude.

“Once for indecent exposure– completely accidental. Once for trespassing, and the last time was because he chained himself to a tree outside of Tawny’s bar. They weren’t cutting the tree down,” Steve says. “He, and I quote, wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Don’t give away my RAP sheet when I’m not here,” Eddie says, placing a tray of drinks on the table carefully. Three cokes and two lemonades.

“It’s not a RAP sheet if you don’t actually get in trouble. They let him off ‘cause they know his uncle. And also ‘cause it’s Hawkins.” Robin slides her slice of lemon between her teeth, shepherding her two lemonades as far away from everybody as she can, looking extremely hedgy. “I’s a bitch sheet.”

Eddie feigns for her second lemon slice and snickers when Robin defends it, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

“I paid for it!” he says through laughs.

Your hands start to shake. You hide them under the lip of the table but it’s no use. Soon your legs are shaking, your arms, all of you. They’re minute tremors, both invisible and impossible to ignore. You glue a smile to your face and try to calm down. You’re overwhelmed and you don’t know why — this isn’t a new feeling. You are not the first person to feel this feeling.

Then why does it feel like it?

Sometimes, everything gets so scary so quickly, and you sit there wondering why it isn’t scary for everybody else, and you wonder why they can’t see it on your face how scared you are, and they must see it? They must know you’re fucked.

You’re shot with thoughts. These people, you could be friends. All you have to do is make a good impression. But how should you go about that? How do you talk? What do you say?

“I draw too,” you say, hands clamped between your knees.

Steve’s eyebrows do this little dance. It’s adorable, and it makes you want to be his friend most of all.

“You do?”

“I do. I’m not good, I mean. I used to be better. I’m out of practice.”

“I draw,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Jonathan, too. God, you should see his shit. And he’s an even better photographer. But I draw shitty zine comics. And Robin does the typesetting for me.”

“Oh, wow,” you say genuinely.

“Nancy writes,” Robin says. “So we’re, like, a jerk circle of artists. She’s good, too.”

“She’s good,” Eddie imitates fondly. “I bet she is. Robin’s gonna be a great writer as well, once she gets all these private Nancy lessons.”

Steve puts a hand up and Eddie promptly shuts up. He takes a big, sheepish slurp of coke and you feel like you’ve said something wrong though you barely said anything at all, sipping at your own coke.

“What are you reading?” Robin asks.

You slide the book toward her so she can see for herself. “The Sea, The Sea,” you tell her. “It’s about, uh,” —you’ve only managed to read the first thirty pages, and that’s after reading the first ten five times straight— “this guy named Charles, he’s unique. He’s uh, annoying.”

“You know, Nancy used to have a book that looked just like that,” Steve says.

You laugh weakly. “It must be popular. I got it at a yard sale.”

“Can I open it?” Robin asks.

“Of course. It’s already pretty beat up, I don’t think there’s anything you could do—“

Robin opens the book with one hand, thumb and pinky fingertip pressed to either side, and tries to take a sip of her drink without looking, tipping her glass of lemonade straight into the pages of The Sea, The Sea. What doesn’t get soaked up by your book rushes down the length of the table and into her lap.

Steve reaches across the table to grab up the glass, but the damage is already done. Your lips part. Eddie gawps, throwing a hand over his slack-jawed face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says, looking at you with wide eyes. “I have the worst case of butterfingers ever, I’m sorry.”

It’s as if she can’t believe she did it. You fluster when you realise they’re all waiting for your reaction.

“It’s okay!” you say, as loud as you’ve ever spoken in public.

“You can be mad,” Steve assures you.

“No, it was an accident. I’m not mad, it cost fifty cents, and it was totally garbage anyway. I’m really not mad.”

Eddie stuffs napkins under the table and Robin shivers uncontrollably, dishing ice cubes from her lap and the seat. Steve, laughing now, says, “God dammit, Robs,” sounding like she might be the most golden person on the planet.

—

Steve works his hat over your hair the best that he can. “There. Now you won’t die from heat stroke.”

You bring both hands to the hat to encourage it down onto your head. “Steve,” you say, sounding unsure on how to continue.

“It’s on loan.”

You nod and look out over the lake, where Eddie stands at the edge of the dock. "It's getting way too fucking cold for this," he complains, in swim shorts and a shirt, gazing in distrust at the lake’s shimmering surface.

Lake is kind. It is technically a lake, but also technically a really, very pathetic lake that feeds from a pathetic tributary. If you stationed Steve on one side and you the other, he would strain to hear you talking. Likely infected with brain eating amoeba or tadpoles or leeches. Slimy things. It’s less disgusting than Lover’s Lake, a condom cesspit, so that’s a plus.

You aren’t looking any more eager about jumping in than you had been, thighs naked and kissed by the hem of an oversized, black t-shirt. It’s wrinkled. Steve kind of loves it.

"Just jump in, you big babies," Robin says.

She'd already jumped in, screamed at the cold, and now languishes in the chest height water in front of the small fishing dock with a smug smile on her face. "Not you," she says to you. Steve rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, hair slipping out of the hat. You sigh as you pull it off and readjust the sizing band.

"I guess I am being a baby,” you say to him quietly. “The sun’s been out all day, how cold can it be?” You’re not feeling confident. It seeps into your voice, to which Steve lends a placating smile.

"Really fucking cold."

"Eddie, shut up. Y/N, it's fine. You'll like it."

“I really don’t think she’ll like it.”

Steve doesn’t either, but he wants you to feel included, and less tense. Distract you from whatever it is that’s giving you such a big case of the frownies, and prove he and his friends aren’t just book-ruining hooligans.

Eddie finally jumps in over Robin’s head, disappearing into the not quite blue water with a cut-off curse. He appears again a few seconds later, black hair slicked to his face, neck and shoulders, wiping the water from his eyes as he splutters and giggles boyishly.

“Shit, Stevie,” he says. “Not that cold after all.”

“You don’t have to jump in, you can just ease off the dock, if that’s better,” Steve says.

“Frogspawn,” you murmur.

Steve does a bunch of flexing, throws in a jumping jack for good measure. “Alright,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

You shake your head gently.

Steve doesn’t wanna embarrass you further, or insist when you really don’t want to, so he nods and smiles and takes a running jump into the lake. Robin and Eddie both swear and dart away as his body collides with the surface of the water, and he sinks like a well-practised stone to near enough the lake bed, feet gracing slippery pond weed and things he’d rather not think about. The air shatters out of his lungs and the water, despite the summer sun, is cold. It feels amazing — he hadn’t realised how warm he was until the temperature abruptly shifted.

He rushes back up to the surface and shakes his hair out like a dog, water running down his face and shoulders in fast thick rivulets. He peels his eyes open and turns to find you still hesitating on the dock. Robin splashes at Steve in retaliation for his hair splatters and Eddie laughs evilly as he joins in.

“Come on!” he begs you. “I told you, they bully me! I need back up!”

You toss his hat on the dock. The jump you take into the lake is timid but enough to miss the frogspawn and not break your legs, a cold splash of water and you’re there. Luckily, your presence has Robin and Eddie both stopping in their cruel tracks, and you don’t have to save Steve after all.

Your happy laughter is stunning.

"It's so cold!" you squeal, water in your eyelashes.

Eddie takes one of your hands and together the four of your tread into deeper water.

"Now that all who can be present are present," he says, falling into his dungeon master drawl, "it's time we commence the The Tournament. Swimmers, take your stations."

Everyone falls into line. You don't know what you're falling into line for, raising your timid voice to ask, "What's the game?"

"The game is me and you dunk the ever-loving out of dumb and dumber," he says.

"Hey, what?" Robin asks. "How come you get her? She's a total wild card, she might win the game all by herself."

"Or she might really suck. We don't know, and so in the interest of fairness, I propose she swims with me." Eddie's wet sleeve sticks to your skin as he nudges you. "But you don't suck, do you?"

"Um…"

"Attagirl. On your marks, get set, go!"

You spend an hour like that. Steve and Co, they're stupid, but they aren't stupid stupid. The Tournament is a series of chasing and dunking (stupid but fun) wherein you get to throw yourself on the shoulders of the person you're chasing and submerge them (stupid again). You can't hold them down, though, they aren't trying to drown one another. Much.

The sun regretfully starts to set. If it's anything like the last few days, that means it's likely near 10PM, and they're all working tomorrow.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Steve asks in concern, after he's heaved himself up onto one of the huge stones on the opposite side of the lake.

Cattails obscure you from view on your own stone. Across the lake, your possessions lay thankfully unscathed on the dock. Robin sits as close as she can to Steve on his rock, kicking water at Eddie every time he tries to approach.

"You fucking rat," he fumes, mouth full of lake water.

"I'm not really working right now,” you say.

"Do you need a job?" Eddie asks. "They're hiring— Harrington, restrain your creature! They're hiring at the Palace Arcade, aren't they?"

Steve nods voraciously. "Yeah! Hey, we can get you an interview no problem, they probably won't even ask you that many questions. I mean, Keith worked there."

"Don't be mean about Keith," Robin says, though she doesn't really like him. He thinks it's akin to defending your deadbeat older brother.

"I don't know, I think even a couple of questions might be too many," you worry.

"How come?"

You pull the fluff off of a cat tail, and it explodes in your hands. Steve yanks one down to do the same, watching the fibres float across the lake's disturbed surface with a cool breeze. Robin shivers beside him, sensitive to the cold in her wet clothes, the adrenaline of swimming and almost but not really dying wearing off.

"I'm bad at stuff like that."

"I don't think anyone's good at interviews at our age," Eddie says, nose wrinkled as cat tail floats toward him. "We're, like, babies."

"I always feel like I'm really old," you confess. You look down at your naked knees. "Like I wasted all the good years already."

"What, school?"

"And the four years since," you say.

Steve gets it, in a way. His high school years sucked, and he'd maybe thought he'd get out of Hawkins on a track or swim scholarship, basketball — anything. But he's here still, and at first that hadn't been what he wanted. Sure, he'd expected it, but in different ways.

Steve pushes back the cattails to see you clearly. "I didn't even get any real good years until just now," he says, as kindly as he can.

"I failed senior year twice," Eddie speaks up, "I kinda thought I was wasting my life too, but if I didn't, I wouldn't even know Robin, and she's, like, my best friend."

He throws his hands over his face before Steve can kick a huge wave of lake water into his eyes. "Get your own," Steve fumes. He's not really mad.

"Yeah, these are the good years," Robin says, "probably. I never had guys fighting over me in high school." She laughs and tucks her wet hair behind her ears, her freckled cheeks pale in the oranging light of the sunset.

You hold your hands out for Eddie and he finally climbs onto one of the rocks. From this side of the lake, you can watch the sun set behind the silhouettes of Hawkins town a half mile away. It dips slowly down, meandering almost, a pearl sinking through layers of raspberry pink and orange and, as Steve holds his breath, that sudden flash of electric green.

"I'm blind," Eddie mumbles, falling back into the rocks and grass.

"Shit, that was cool." Robin stands up and stretches. "I'm so cold I'm gonna die right here. Steve, do you still have a blanket in your car?"

Steve looks over at you again. You look shell-shocked, not quite awed. He doesn't know what emotion you're feeling, only that you're feeling it, eyes wide and set across the lake at the darkened sky, lights from the buildings like stars shimmering in your pupils.

He stands up and offers his hand to you. When you take it, he pulls you up without hesitation, not a flicker of doubt or an ounce of struggle.

"I'll get you that interview," he says, questioning, soft. If you want it.

Your fingers linger in his palm.

"Yeah, okay. Thank you."

"Come on!" Robin says, taking your other hand and tugging without apology, barefoot over the asphalt path surrounding the lake. "Before the gnats come out."

"We might see fireflies if we stick around," Eddie says.

They bicker. Steve lets go of your hand and you and Robin walk just ahead, your head bobbing between his two arguing friends like you're watching a quickfire tennis match.

You turn to the side and hide a smile. Steve sees it, and he figures it's a start.

"Munson," he hollers, "how about you stay and watch the fireflies and you tell us all about it? Me and the girls aren't gonna freeze out here so you can get back in touch with nature."

It's a bad joke, but it works. "Fuck you, Harrington. The ladies wanna see the lightning bugs, don't you?"

"I can't remember the last time I saw them," you say.

"Then we have to stay," Eddie says smugly.

You all crowd the back of Steve's car, the heaters on but not doing a lot, the blanket stretched over Robin's shoulders. She tucks it behind your back, and you all look out to the night and scout for bugs.

"There," you whisper, pointing.

Green dots of light rise from the dry grass like tiny lanterns, a handful at a time.

"Jonathan's gonna be sad he missed this," Robin murmurs.

You try to count them all. Four voices whispering bets into the night air, though the real number isn't possible to calculate. "Winner gets a new paperback on Robin," Eddie jokes, swiftly quietened by a barrage of elbows to his side.

They let you win.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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hetalian-veteran · 2 months ago

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Art Styles I Personally Think the Hetalia Characters Looked Their Best In (and Why) Part 1

Link to Part 2

I'm making this at 3am because my back hurts and I can't sleep. But the art styles have been on my mind for a while and I wanted to talk about it. Or at least express which ones I think were best for certain characters and why.

I will also be omitting characters who have only appeared in one season.

Also, please note that I am referring to the show and not the webcomic. This is primarily because I didn't always have access to the webcomic and thus the show is what I've always been most familiar with.

Italy: Seasons 1-4

This was a close call between this and his design for season 5, but you can't beat the classic art style for Italy. When someone mentions Italy from Hetalia, this is what comes to mind. I also feel like there's a bit more fluff to his hair in this art style, but it's also not so flat that it looks like his hair is wet. He also just looks cuter here. I can't explain it. He just does.

Romano: Season 7

As a long-time Romano fangirl, this was a very close call between all the art styles I've seen for this character. But ultimately, season 7 won out. I like how they colored his hair. Not just because I like brown hair, but because they made it shiny, but not so shiny that it looks wet, and... Let's be real here, this outfit. It is everything my middle school self ever wanted and more. The Romano fans were blessed the day he graced our screens with this glorious fit.

Germany: Season 1-4

Part of why I love this art style for Germany is because it's the one I was first introduced to, and it's one where he looks the most like a real person (at least to me, anyway). Another reason is that the other designs for Germany either make him way too muscular for my liking, or they give him a bit of a dopey face. I think it's also worth mentioning that this design gave us some very meme-worthy facial expressions, and that should never be downplayed or forgotten. Also, I miss the black tank top look for him. Iconic.

Japan: Season 5

Japan's design in season 5 hits sort of a sweet spot between his designs for seasons 1-4 and seasons 6-7. His hair is obviously still black, but it isn't so dark that it loses any value. The shading and gradient look really good and help make his design here pop from the previous one. I also like how big and squared his eyes are here, similar to in seasons 1-4. Seasons 6-7 made his eyes too round. I also love that brown gradient within his eyes. I feel like his eyes were too small in seasons 6-7. As I said, this Japan design hits a sweet spot and balances all the best elements of his design while still maintaining the look of aph Japan.

Prussia: Season 5

It took me a while to figure out why I preferred this art style for Prussia, but I think I finally figured it out. Angles. This design utilizes sharper angles than the other designs for Prussia. The reason why this works so well is that angles in character design are often used either for older characters or for characters who have a bit of an edge to them (pun unintended). I understand that Prussia is a huge dork (affectionately), but he has always come across as a sort of rebel to me with a "do or die" attitude, which makes sharper edges and angels work well for him. Also, his eyes are pretty. And he looks hot here sue me.

Spain: Season 5

Okay, I have several notes here, because virtually everything here is an upgrade from his design from seasons 1-4. For one thing, they actually gave him tanned skin, which, in my opinion, makes sense for the personification of Spain, a country that gets a lot of sunshine. His hair is shiny and gives a sort of sunkissed look, like he's been working outside the whole day. Not to mention his hair has a bit of fluff to it, a huge upgrade from his more flat-looking hair from previous seasons. His eyes are beautiful, with a gradient from yellow-green, into avocado green, and then into a shamrock green. I also like the more casual clothing he wears this season, as well as that one cool-looking suit of armor he wore during his battle against the Netherlands. The only reason I am not putting his design for seasons 6-7 here is that, despite giving him even tanner skin in those seasons, which I like, his facial features feel too rounded to me, making him look a bit like a young child. Season 5 Spain walked in, slayed the competition, and walked out. A true king.

Belgium: Season 5

I've heard a little bit of arguing online about how Belgium's hair in season 5 should've been blonde, but honestly? In a sea of blonde characters, I don't mind her having light brown hair. If anything, I think it's beautiful and it makes her stand out more. I really like her light green eyes, as well as the cute dresses that she wears. In particular this outfit. The green bow on her dress and in her hair complement her eyes beautifully. Not to mention that the green bow on the gray and black dress makes for a really nice pop of color. I know she's not a character who shows up a ton, but for me, she looked her absolute best in season 5, and the previous and latter seasons cannot compare.

Netherlands: Seasons 5-7

I'm lumping seasons 5-7 together for the Netherlands because I honestly cannot see too many big differences between his designs there. All I can say is that they are far better than his one design in seasons 1-4. I love the whole outfit he wears, with the long coat and the scarf. I lowkey kinda want that scarf. He also has the added detail of smoking a pipe. Which, sidenote, is that a big thing in the Netherlands? I have no idea. I just found the pipe to be a unique and interesting detail. I'd talk about the design, but that would be best suited for a top ten favorite designs post.

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sixosix · 7 months ago

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HELLO????????

this divorce arc #2 is pinching me from the inside using rusted moldy tweezers. MAMA AND PAPA ARE FIGHTING😭😭😭😭 we are so back (back to square one ffs)

“Because I lo—” Lyney grits his teeth, and finally, some real emotion—no more tricks, no more lies; his frustration satisfies you—at least until he says, “I like you, okay? You know this.”

I AM NOT OKAY ABSOLUTELY NOT. BRO JUST SAY IT. SAY THE L WORD AND GET MARRIED ALREADY GODDAMNJT1🥹😭😭😭 her vision acting out whenever lyney is involved is so heartbreaking like wdym that even an inanimate object that you own is drawn to him as well☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ her snapping at aether is just mmfmmfmfmgm like yes girl let it all out yeah this all happened bc this blonde majestic man strutted in your life in 7inch heels. i bet when reader walked out of that shop it was dead silent and lyney would probably like "tell me wtf did she meant by that right now, aether or istg"😭😭 GOD they are both so stupid and pathetic i LOVE IT.

ugh i love this series so much ive never done this in any series before (like draw and stuff) and i know theres only 4 chapters left so you better expect me to keep rereading all these in the next 50 years or so HAHHAHSHHSH

have a nice day six!!! i really enjoyed this chapter<333

OH MY LORD 😭😭😭😭 THAT IS BEAUTIFUL. TEARS IN MY EYES WOWW the atmosphere this art has im in awe U captured her gaze so well.. UNRELATED BUT MC’S TOP BEING A LITTLE OPEN,, AND LYNEYS BOW TIE WHAHSHGAHGS SO CUTE I LIVE THEM

RUSTED MOLDY TWEEZERS IS DISGUSTING 😭😭 also i am??? hoping u dont have a cctv in my docs or something cus… ?!?!?!?!? AWWW the inanimate object being drawn to him thats so true

UGHHH AKAGI IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR THATT im endlessly grateful that you discovered my account and i get to be blessed w ur art

#ARRHHHGGG SO GOOOD #thawed fanart <3 #606: THAWED #606: akagi0021

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queen-of-the-misfit-toys · 6 months ago

Text

A Father's Blessing

Warnings: sweet sad fluff. That's it.

Word count: @ 1k

This is the fluffiest, sad fluff ever 🥹. Benophie Week 2024 day 1.

___________________________________________

“Sophie, Sophie darling, wake up please.” Benedict whispered into her hair as he knelt by the bedside, twirling a curl in his fingers.

Sophie, now quite used to being awoken for midnight interludes, sleepily turned and caressed his face.

“Benedict Bridgerton, our wedding is in just a few hours. Can you not wait even that long?” she teased.

“I'm not here for THAT, Sophia Maria.” He laughed. “But now that you mention it…”

“Ben!!”

“Alright, alright, I'll stop. But I did come to get you for a reason. I need to show you something, introduce you to someone. Put on a dressing gown and proper shoes and meet me in the back garden in five minutes. No questions.”

He quickly kissed her and turned to leave.

“The garden? And just a dressing gown for meeting someone? Benedict, what is going on?”

“No questions, my love. Five minutes. I love you.”

Sophie watched, bewildered, as he shut the door behind him.

“Four minutes now, Soph.” He whisper-shouted, walking down the hall.

Six minutes later, Sophie joined him in the back garden.

“I don't know where we are going or why but we must hurry, Ben. The ceremony is in five hours time and your mother will be apoplectic if I am not in my room in two to get ready.”

“You are late, Sophia Maria.” He joked, tapping her nose. “But you look beautiful so I'll allow it. And my mother knows where we are going. I thought it best to tell her.”

He twirled her in the moonlight, the darkness only broken by the single candle he held.

“How can a dressing gown be so alluring?”

“The modiste picked this one personally. Said you would adore it. She seemed to know quite a lot about what you would like. I wonder why?” She fixed him with a teasing eye, enjoying how red he was turning.

“Sophie. Please don't.”

“Oh, Ben. You know I'm teasing, silly man. We agreed that our pasts are in the past, didn't we? Onward and upward to glory? Isn't that what you said? Hmmm?”

He stopped and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead.

“Onward and upward, my Sophie.”

They walked endlessly, in Sophie's mind at least, no more words passing between them until they came to a small clearing. In the center stood an imposing granite stone. Benedict walked several paces ahead of her, coming to stand in front of the monument.

“Benedict, is this…?”

“I could not let our wedding day commence without you meeting my Father, Sophie. It is my disgrace that I haven't brought you here before, told you all about him. He is the reason I am the man you see today.” Benedict whispered, silent tears running down his face.

Sophie came to his side, grasping his hand and running her hand through his hair.

“Tell me about him, my love. I want to know everything.”

“I'm afraid we don't have time for everything.”

“It's our wedding, Benedict. They can't hold it without us. We will make time for this. They will wait.”

For the next few hours he told her everything about Edmund Anthony Charles Bridgerton, the eighth Viscount of the name. He told her of his love for nature, nurturing his second son's infatuation with rocks. His love for art and music. His kindness towards the tenants on their lands. His innovative contraptions like the baby carrier he made so he could hold both sons at once, when there were only two. He told her of his parents' love story, marrying at only 17 and 19. Welcoming Anthony barely 8 months after the wedding.

“So you see, my Darling, there is no need to be ashamed that we didn't wait. It's practically family tradition.”

“You are incorrigible!” She laughed as she buried her head in his shoulder, hiding her blushes.

“And you love me.”

“I do. Only God knows why, but I do.”

“He would've loved you too.”

“I hope I will make him proud, Benedict.” She said softly. “I know he is looking down with pride at you. The man you have become. I know I would be proud to have such a man as you as my son. I hope one day I can prove worthy of that pride as well, considering everything.

Benedict stared at his bride with surprise. Gathering her into his lap, he took her hand and stroked her hair.

“Soph. Your past and your parentage mean nothing. You had no one to rely on, to take care of you and…look at you, Sophie. You are strong, and smart, and loyal, and principled. You are the epitome of everything that is good and right in this world. I can only hope that someday I am worthy of your love and devotion. My father would, jokingly I hope, want to know why you were settling for me. You are truly the greatest person I know or will ever know. I am in awe of you every moment of every day and that will never stop, Sophie.”

“You are too good to me, Benedict Alexander Bridgerton.” She spoke through her tears.

“I will never be worthy of you, Sophia Maria Beckett, but I will spend every day trying to be.” he promised, capturing her lips in a kiss.

“The sun is rising, Soph. We better head back to the house.”

“One more minute, Darling. I want to gather some of these bluebells for my bouquet. And maybe for my hair, if you think that would be alright.”

Benedict choked back tears as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Bluebells were his favorite flower. It will be another way to bring him into our day. I love that idea, Sophie.”

“Will you braid them into my hair, my love? Here? Where he can be with us?”

With tears flowing, Benedict delicately twisted the fragrant blue flowers into his love's hair, in the shadow of his father's grave. As the sun rose over the land, a beam illuminated Sophie and Benedict.

“He is giving us his blessing, my Love.” He said as he kissed her hair. “ Now let's go make him proud.”

#benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #benophie #benophie week 2024 #benophie fluff #edmund bridgerton

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invitationtoher · 2 months ago

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You're in my Way, Cage. | Chapter 3: Johnny

Masterlist

Summery: Kitana Edenia, smart, beautiful, and stressed. With dreams of becoming a doctor due to her sister, Mileena, having a major case of chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). Throughout her entire school life she's been focused on her goal of getting into the very same college that her mother and father went to and fell in love at, Mortal Kampus University (MKU), an ivy league school where the only people are intelligent as they are talented. Kitana vows to make her mother proud with no distractions, at least that was the plan until she met an obnoxious dirty blonde in her English Class.

Jonathan Carlton? No, he's Johnny Cage! Hollywood's next big star! He may not act as smart as he actually is, but he shines when it comes to entertainment, if it's on the screen or behind the scenes Johnny can do it all, thanks to the Carlton family being in the film industry for generations. Thanks to his parents money and his acting and martial arts talents (as well as writing), he got a scholarship to MKU's theater department! He knows MKU will be a good time, it's his chance to make his own name. When he sees a pretty girl in his English class whose walls seem unbreakable, he vows to break down those walls and see the real her by showing her a film.

“What’s your name?”

“Kitana Edenia.”

“What’s your major?”

“Medical sciences.”

“Age?

“19.”

Her voice is nonchalant as she answers my questions, her dainty hands in her lap as I scribble her answer on my paper. Even as I write I can’t stop myself from looking at her light blue nail polish that shined under the fluorescent lights of the classroom.

“That’s cool, what do you want to do after school?”

I asked, looking over at her with a charming smile, making sure to flash my teeth to her the same way I made the girl in my lighting design class blush. The smile didn’t affect her the way I wanted it to, the way it always worked on girls. Kitana was a tough cookie, one that I wanted to break and get inside to see what makes her tick.

“A doctor.”

Of course, she was smart. Kitana furrowed her eyebrows and let out a scoff that was loud enough for me to hear, she shook her head and looked down at her paper with a pretty blue and silver ballpoint pen in her hand.

“Name?”

“Johnathan. But call me Johnny.”

She was quick to scribble down my name in elegant handwriting with the black ink pen of the twist pen. It was practically hypnotizing with the way her hand wrote out my name, the loop of the J and how each letter she connected each letter that read ‘Johnny.’ I’ve seen cursive before, but this was like no other. My mothers autographing wasn’t even this-

“Ahem.”

I was snapped out of my trance by the sound of her clearing her throat, I shot my eyes up to look into her hazel eyes.

“Last name too.”

She said, her tone showing hints of her annoyance- she’s probably been asking the question for a while- my smile faltered a bit. My family’s fame and wealth being a blessing for opportunities and a ball and chain at the same time. In any class that has to do with theater I knew I couldn’t escape my family name. At least I was able to use my stage name in those classes, but in general courses I never know what to expect since my parents and sister were practically campus idols that made it big time on the West Coast. If I even utter my last name, I immediately get questions about my parents and Janet, the conversation that was once about me eventually becoming about my family yet again.

“Um, it’s Carlton. Does that… sound familiar?”

Kitana shook her head, looking down at the paper and wrote down my answer. She was unphased by my answer, if she was acting like she didn’t care, she was pretty damn good at it.

“Major?’

“Theater and creative writing.”

She let out a small half laugh half scoff, I raised an eyebrow at the sweet sound, my smile growing a bit as she looked back up when she finished writing my major.

“What’s so funny?”

“Of course you’re a theater major, you think you’re going to be the next teenage heart throb with those dentures?”

She asked with sarcasm, I clicked my tongue on the roof of my mouth. Now she wants to start being funny?

“First of all, my teeth are 100% all real, doc, no false teeth here. Second, there’s no teenage heart throb here, I’m for the cute college girls that like action heroes and single mothers that need to get off.”

She rolled her eyes and wrote on the paper, I can see her biting her bottom lip as she failed to try to contain her smile to my joke.

“So, I’m assuming you’re an actor?”

“Yup, and then you can say that you went to school with Johnny Cage, Hollywood’s biggest star.”

Kitana shook her head as she let out another laugh, it finally clicked. She doesn’t know who my family is, she doesn’t know that I come from a large line of Hollywood’s biggest actors and actresses.

“Uh huh, okay… should I put that down for favorite celebrity too, Cage? And a stage name?”

“Duh, I’m the best actor you’ll ever see, sweetheart.”

I wasn’t sure if I liked the fact she didn’t know about the Carltons, that she didn’t know about me. It sounds narcissistic but it’s not something I was used to, but it was sort of… refreshing in a way. It’s rare since generations of my family are in the most mainstream movies and tv shows as well as cult classics. Her nose scrunched a bit, exactly how it did when I called her ‘princess’ when we were told that we’re gonna have the buddy system.

“Yeah, I use a stage name in case those freak fans want to steal my last name.”

My smile was genuine now, yeah, I wasn’t exactly telling the full truth with that answer, but the little laugh I was able to crack out of her already cracking exterior was worth it.

“Okay, that’s actually… surprisingly smart.”

“You’ll be saying that a lot, princess.”

“I doubt it, Cage.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

“Alright, Cage. How old are you?”

She asked, looking back down at the paper and reading the next question. I leaned back in my seat, my grin growing at the sight of her half-up half-down hairstyle that was held together by a clear rubber band. I wonder if it hurts to take out. Janet always said it does, that’s why she moved to black hair ties.

“18.”

She hummed, as she wrote on the paper, I looked down at mine to ask her the next question, hobbies.

“Reading and studying, I guess.”

Weird hobbies, favorite food,

“Pasta with marinara sauce.”

Favorite celebrity,

“Oscar Wilde.”

I raise an eyebrow and give her a look, my writing halting. She shifts in her seat as she plays with the embroidered cuffs of her blue crew neck.

“He was an author.”

She seemed embarrassed by her own answer, her cheeks were slightly pink with blush. I nod my head and look back at the paper, I knew the guy, my mother wanted to turn one of his books into a show or movie. However, Netflix got to it first, which they butchered, and my mother was grumpy for the next few months.

“Favorite movie?”

I stared down at my paper, waiting for her answer. Instead of answering immediately like the other questions, she was silent. Maybe she didn’t hear me?

“Favorite movie?”

I ask again, I turn to look at her, she looks around the room as if she was looking for the answer.

“I don’t… have one?”

I scoffed a bit,

“What do you mean? Everyone has one. Okay, give me top five then.”

She’s silent for a few moments, she looks down at her lap. Her thumbs tracing the embroidered flowers on her cuffs, she murmured that she didn’t have five.

“Then what’s your favorite movie? C’mon, I won’t make fun of it… much.”

She let out a small sigh before looking back up at me, her smile gone and her cheeks now red. Suddenly, it clicked.

“Oh my god, have you ever seen a movie?”

I asked, leaning closer to Kitana. Her body froze up, but she shook her head. Everything now makes sense how she didn’t recognize my family name despite my family being in almost every genre of tv shows and movies. My eyes widened and I let out a shocked laugh. Kitana sunk a bit in her seat, opening her mouth quickly to explain herself.

“I mean, of course I’ve seen a movie, but I’ve never really sat and watched it. It’s more like, my sister was watching it, and I was doing my own thing.”

I gave her a look, which made her scoff.

“I’m too busy for that stuff.”

She says, her ‘I’m-too-good-for-everything’ attitude from when I met her returning as she sits up in her seat. I feel a smirk crawl onto my face and shake my head.

“Not anymore, free up your calendar, princess. We’re gonna go see a movie as soon as possible.”

#fanfic #archive of our own #johnny cage #johnny cage x kitana #kitana #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat #romance #writers on tumblr #female writers #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #ao3 #fanfiction #video games #modern au #college au

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frieschan · 1 year ago

Text

QUERENCIA, chapter 2.5

(n.) where one feels home ; the place where you are your most authentic self

pairing - hybrid! ot7 x bunny hybrid! male! reader

genre - 18+, college au, hybrid au, fluff, eventual angst, eventual smut, humour

summary - you, a rabbit hybrid away from home to study, run into a group of surprisingly friendly and calm (also very attractive) predators who are a pack and live together suddenly run into your life like a bulldozer. the dull days of your life may turn into days of joy and laughter, or will the days turn into gloom and a sad everafter?

warnings (this chapter) - smol bit of angst but ends fluffy, not beta-read

word count - tba

prev // masterlist // next

Jungkook woke sluggish and tired. He ended up sleeping at 5 am because of staying up all night playing overwatch with his good friend Minho, right now he was starting to regret that. The wolf sat up on his bed and reached to his bed-side table to grab his phone and water bottle. He unlocked his phone with the right hand, while the left was used for taking sips from his bottle to remove the uncomfortable dryness in his throat. As he unlocked his phone, he noticed that the apartment sounded eerily quiet, compared to the usual loud yells from Jin and the contiguous laughs of Jimin and Hobi. He quickly put his bottle next to him on the bed and opened up the messaging app.

Now in Taehyung's perspective, he looked at you from the outside side of the cafe where he was sat. You looked adorable with your cute little chubby cheeks hidden under the gray hood of your hoodie. He watched as you sip on your what looks like.. a chocolate oreo milkshake? Even your choice of drink was cute.

He decided to build up the confidence and walked into the store. He looked at you for a few seconds before approaching your table with a determined smile. You give the Tiger Hybrid a questioning look and raised brow, but sure that he wouldn't do anything bad. He looked to be around your age, a young undoubtedly handsome, tiger hybrid that any girl or guy would swoon for. He had dark brown hair, dark as in you could only tell it was brown if he was under a certain lighting or if you were close enough. He had 3 beautiful moles, perfect honey tan skin, eyes that were unique, well structured face, pink and adorable lips, he was both handsome and beautiful.

"Hey excuse me, I was wondering if I could get your number? You're really cute" Taehyung asked politely, catching you by surprise with his question. Did this god-crafted man just ask you on a date? Was the deity up there blessing you with these mouth wattering men? Why? Well you weren't about to lose this opportunity, but you weren't about to just give someone you didn't know your personal information. You were better than that.

You blushed at his offer "Well, I'd at least want to get to know you first."

"Then, would you like to sit with me at my table?"

You smile and agreed, following him to his table outside while bringing your milkshake and bag. When you reached the table, Taehyung pulled up a chair for you like a gentleman, him sporting a smile and looking at you expectantly. You smile back and muttering a Thank-You before taking the seat, him pushing the seat in before taking his own seat, in front of you. You put down your milkshake onto the table and look at his drink of choice. He had a half-eaten croissant, and what looked like.. Hot chocolate with cute art on top? Now that is an adorable choice.

"So, tell me about yourself, My attention is yours." He asked, putting up his elbow on the table and letting his chin rest on his palm, keeping each and every ounce of his attention on you. He was absolutely charming, you had to give him that.

"Well, I'm Y/N, 22, student at UoS, ballet student and I do ice-skating as a hobby. I swing the other way and I really reallyy like sweets."

"I see, nice to meet you Y/N-ssi. I'm Taehyung, but you can call me Tae or V, 23, same University, I like playing the saxophone, started liking men recently also. I also... don't like coffee."

You chuckle at his last remark before your phone started ringing. You look at him embarrassed and he nods at you, silently telling you that it's alright for you to take it. You take a quick glance at the name, seeing it as one of your good friends, Youngji the chaos wrecker.

As you were talking to Youngji you didn't notice Taehyung going on his phone and taking a quick photo of you and sending it to their groupchat.

As you clicked the Stop Call button, you glanced up to see Taehyung looking down in shame with big guilty eyes and furrowed eyebrows. He was no longer holding the confident and laid-back pose he had and now has a pose that a child would have when they were caught guilty.

"Is everything alright, hyung?" You put your hand onto the table in a comforting manner, reaching out to him but only if he would meet you half-way.

"I took a photo of you without your consent and sent it to my pack.." He whispered enough just for you to hear, he took a small peek at your reaction before going back to glare down at his lap.

You were taken aback, surprised at his response. "Why'd you do that?" making sure your tone was soft and sounded as you weren't upset, sure it wasn't the ideal situation but as long as it wasn't for any malicious reason, there wouldn't be any need for you to be upset.

"I wanted to show my pack the guy I'm interested in.."

"Oh.. Tae, sweetheart, that's alright! Well, maybe someone else wouldn't be okay with it but for me, I'm absolutely fine with it." You reassure him with a comforting smile. "It wasn't for any bad reason so honestly, that's mostly what matters for me."

Taehyung finally removes his glare from his lap and looked up at you with big glassy eyes, his lips shaking and looking at you with so much joy. You felt like you were about to just run to him and shove him in your pocket. Now there was another guy in your list of "hot-guys that you'd totally hit".

prev // masterlist // next

TAGLIST - @blehhhidk, @instantnarwhal, @singukieee, @weepyalex, @kaceypdf (just comment or dm to be added in masterlist !!, crossed out are people I couldn't tag)

notes - uhmm just a mini chapter b4 all the active readers of this kill me...

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rooviebae · 9 months ago

Note

NEZUKO IN TGCF AAAND HUALIAN ADOPTS HER

. ݁₊ BUNNY HUT DELIVERY . ݁₊

YOUR ORDER ㅤㅤㅤ

❥︎ Nezuko Kamado suddenly appears in Heaven Officials Blessing and Xie Lian and Hua Cheng adopts her. ❥︎ 931 words ❥︎ might have a few mistakes but still hope you enjoy it !

Nezuko has witnessed several unbelievable events while traveling from demon to demon with her brother. She's even heard stories from her father before he died from an unknown illness that made his body weak. However, she has never been hit by another demons Blood Demon Art and arrive in a world that does not look like her own.

Thankfully, it was night, and there were still several people wandering the crowded streets, as she has gotten used to by this point. She was standing at her normal height, her fingers securely grasping her pink kimono, but her grip was not strong enough for her nails to sink in and tear the fabric apart.

Nezuko scans her surrounding, hoping to spot something that is at least somewhat familiar to her, but nothing was. Should she ask for help? She has no idea where she was, so asking for directions or simply where she was right now would be a great place to start. But she couldn't speak and hasn't been able to for two years, so how would she ask? Not only that, but she didn't have a brush or paper to write on to show anyone what she wanted to say (not like her writing would be that good anyways). All of this meant that she was on her own until she found anything that could help her get home

She takes a brief look at each passing building, some of which look to be prayer temples based on what she can see inside. She continues forward, taking in the beauty surrounding her, until fewer and fewer people and buildings show up around her. Now, the area surrounding her resembled an open field with small homes sprinkled along a lengthy pathway. She continues on this was, slowing her pace a bit to conserve energy until she hopefully finds a decent area to sleep as the sun rises.

There was a few areas here and there, but they were near clearly occupied residences, and she didn't want some random person finding her. While that might not seem too horrible, they may bring her out into the sun, even if they have no intention of harming her. That idea alone bothers her.

"My my," Nezuko flinches slightly at the unexpected voice. "What a demonic presence." She turns and faces two men, one of them dressed in red and had his dark hair tied lopsidedly, and she guesses he was the one speaking. The other shorter male approaches her and leans down a bit to reach her level. "Why do you have bamboo in your mouth?" He asks, mainly to himself rather than to her.

These two weren't human, that was obvious, but they weren't demons either, and she was unable to sense any malicious intentions from them, especially the one in white. He had such a sweet and serene smile; it made her think of her brother.

Since she knows that they are not human, they seem to have already concluded that she was a demon, or at least dangerous. Regardless, they chose to approach her with such care. "Can you talk without that?" The brunette in front of her asks, lazily gesturing to the bamboo with a small head tilt. She shakes her head, but she feels that he already knew the answer to his question. It wouldn't hurt to ask, right?

The other man approaches with a slight smile and stares down at Nezuko. "Well aren't you a little one." He said it in a tone that sounded like he was teasing her, but it didn't really bother her much. She even used his words as an excuse to grow taller. She grew dramatically and slowly until she was around six feet tall, around the same height as him. Her kimono hugged her figure, so she didn't dare to move too much. "What an interesting twist." The man dressed in red had widened eyes, but they quickly disappear and replaced with a faint smile.

Nezuko had been fighting before she appeared here, she had spent hours searching for a place to stay or figuring out how to get back to her brother, and now she has used some of her energy to increase her height in front of these two... whatever they are.

She was exhausted. So, she shrinks to the side of when she would normally sleep within her box and wipes her eye, causing the two males to exchange glances. She sits on the floor till her body collapses on her side, falling asleep surprisingly quickly.

"Gege." The man in red clothing says, keeping his eyes fixed on the little demon. "She's not a ghost." So, she's not a human nor a ghost. What was she? She had this menacing air around her, yet she did nothing that matched it. "Let's take her."

"What?" The white clothed man glances at him. "San Lang, what if someone is searching for her?" His face was filled with hesitation, but the other man, San Lang, did not change his. "They would leave a child out on their own? Let's keep her." He looks back at Nezuko. "If someone is looking for her, we'll have her, but if no one comes looking for her, let's keep her."

He doesn't even wait for the other male, Xie Lian, to to respond to what San Lang said before crouches to pick up the female. His eyes are tender as he stares at the sleeping demon, and this alone causes Xie Lian to stop. "I suppose that works too.."

What exactly has Nezuko gotten herself into?

#kny #kny oneshots #nezuko kamado #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tgcf oneshot #xie lian #hua cheng #san lang

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astrangetorpedo · 8 months ago

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‘Media Is the Third Parent’: A Conversation With Lucy Dacus

by Justin Joffe | 2/22/17

The music that we love is an accumulation of narratives. The stories those songs tell, the memories they create for us and the truths that their writers have lived all become an important rubber band ball of context and experience, informing our connection to them in ways we don’t always immediately get.

So when a young artist emerges from the formless depths of adolescence near-fully formed, the narrative starts taking shape even before we understand it. Cries of nepotism, entitlement, and business collusion often drown out the true origin story of someone who takes to a big stage so all of a sudden, whether or not those cries have any merit. And in the case of Lucy Dacus, a 21-year old singer/songwriter from Richmond Virginia with a remarkably deep and powerful voice, no such assumptions about her recent ascension ring the least bit true.

Adopted at a young age and creatively nurtured by her piano-playing mother, Dacus’ musicality was embedded in her home life from the get go. Her debut, No Burden, was recorded by her guitarist Jacob Blizard as part of his winter project at music school Oberlin and released by hometown label EggHunt Records last February. Almost immediately, Dacus’ husky alto caught the attention of larger labels—over 20 of them—requiring her to take some time sifting through the muck and the mud, fielding offers and inquiries guided largely by her convictions and her gut.

Six months later she signed with venerable independent label Matador Records, and their reissue of Dacus’ No Burden last fall gave hope to this whole generation of self-starters. Dacus’ reverb-drenched, alt-country-dusted songs cut to the question of how an artist in the public eye can still live away from what Sartre called “the gaze of the other”, free from expectations of beauty or lapses in trust, living and working only by the standards they set for themselves.

We caught up over the phone to discuss what it means to take personal agency over your work in a time when art and politics seem pretty much inseparable.

How ya doin’?

Good, I’m in Canada! Hopefully my connection will be good, but if it starts to break up I’ll blame it on that.

So, were you looking at a hearse or a limousine? That lyric of yours reminds me of one of my favorite Leonard Cohen lyrics, “Thought I saw an eagle, but it might have been a vulture, never could decide.”

Yeah, that one’s really good.

Much of your album speaks to trust and navigating uncharted waters, but can you unpack that rhetorical question for me?

I guess the point of that song, “Troublemaker, Doppelganger” is trying to navigate the worth of beauty, and if it’s hurtful or helpful to value beauty. If it’s a curse or a blessing. Is that something really negative and morbid, like the hearse, or is it the limousine—a glamorous symbol of enjoying life?

I’m trying to connect how your interest in the aesthetic side of media, between your time in film school and your time as a photo editor, has informed your perspective on our habits of consumption and decision making. Is that something that weighs on your mind often?

Yeah! The media, and how we’re taught to read it, has a huge impact on who we become as people. When you’re a kid you learn whatever your parents think, until you start taking in media. Because all your friends are your age as well, media is the third parent that you ever have. So I think about that a lot, what visual imagery is teaching us, and media in general having a huge impact. But it’s ambiguous—if you haven’t learned the cultural symbolism where media is coming from, it can be really confusing.

You said that you felt this record was possible because you went into it without any expectations, during the writing and recording process. But the minute any work is released to the public, media expectations become imposed upon us. I guess it’s what Sartre called “the gaze of the other”. How do you keep that purity of intention during your process while operating inside someone else’s media infrastructure, an infrastructure that you didn’t build? It’s something I feel that you’re in a particularly great place to help us with.

[Laughs] A lot of the songs for the next record were actually written well before we spoke to a label or had any kind of coverage, so at least for the next record, I haven’t had to deal with that. But of course I’m still writing, and I think the biggest aspect of it that keeps me from catering to our current infrastructure is not trying to write. I don’t ever sit down and say, “OK, I need to write a song” or “I need to crank something out” or “I have to make something that will satisfy the people around me.” That’s never been a concern, I don’t think that should be a concern, and it means I maybe don’t write at a quick pace anymore, but everything that I do write is stuff that just comes to me the way any other thought does. So far it doesn’t feel like anything that I’ve written is compromised by the fact that we have a label now.

You’ve spoken about how you had to develop a bit more business acumen after this album was finished and you were shopping your project around a bit. Do you almost learn those things so that you can know when you don’t have to use them, in a way? When you don’t have to have your guard up with them?

Yeah, I really enjoy navigating the business aspect of having a band, and there is a great amount of instinct. You don’t wanna work with people who make you feel weird, even if they’re super qualified. You don’t want to feel like you’re being used by anybody, even though you are submitting to that in some way, in some mutual using of whoever you end up working with. But there’s a fine line that’s hard to describe between being taken advantage of and having a partnership. I feel like that might be different for everybody, but I would just suggest that anyone getting into this take their time and compare a lot of different companies or whatever you’re choosing. Be comparative about decision making , because you don’t have to rush into things.

That ties into the themes of trust on this record, too, which is funny because you wrote these songs before having to navigate those waters. You wrote, “I wanna live in a world where I can keep my doors open, but who knows what’d get in and what’d get out.” Would it be a stretch to connect that lyric toward your path of ascension in the music sphere, toward your approach to how you present yourself? Are you talking about trust in the abstract here?

Absolutely. The more you learn the more wise you’re supposed to be, but I still reflect upon myself as a child, or even just myself pre-audience, kind of contemplating on where my creativity came from at that point and always trying to stay connected to why I originally started writing. I did write that song a while ago, but luckily it still rings true.

I talked to Joe Steinhardt of Don Giovanni a few weeks ago, and he’s of the mind that the big three media companies are turning into the big three tech companies, insofar as Apple, Google and Amazon are eating whole industries of art, commerce and media. It got me wondering what we can do. Now obviously you’re on Matador, and they have a great reputation around doing right for their artists’ sustainability. What are you, and they, doing right when it comes to giving artists some agency over their own work?

I guess there’s two ways to approach this question. There’s technically retaining the rights to your own music, being structurally independent and not feeding into major labels or major companies, but then there’s also this idea of retaining agency in a more metaphysical sense.

I think both are important. Matador’s an independent label, which was part of the reason that we chose them. Myself, I feel like I still have ownership over my own work. Like I said, you just have to retain your writing process and not force anything. That’s what helps me feel like I still have a handle on what I make—it’s coming from me because of me, not because of anything else.

On top of that, I really like and respect bands that do more than just the typical structuring of recording, releasing and touring an album. Bands that are socially active, bands that are not afraid to talk about their belief systems explicitly. I’ve been inspired by that, and that feels like not just taking agency over your own work, but taking agency over the responsibility that you’ve been granted by a fanbase. Really contemplating your fanbase and being present with the people who listen to your music.

That begs the very timely and topical question, too—if all art comes from culture, and cultures are being stigmatized right now, then isn’t all art political? The question’s kind of irrelevant when the creative class is kind of a marginalized community in its own right, but I guess I’m just wondering how your value system responds to right now, as you come into the creative class professionally at a time when a lot of people are freaking out about the abolishment of the National Endowment of the Arts and similar public-funded avenues for creative programs or dialogues. What’s your role in pushing back against that?

The solution we came up with as a band for this tour was raising money for local charities at each of the shows that we’ve been playing. That feels like a pretty effective form of activism so far, but beyond that, I would hope that the music we make and tour causes people to consider not necessarily the specific current events happening around the world, but what’s behind them—power struggles, contemptment and these other things behind the negativity that we see, a lack of fulfillment in people.

It’s nobody’s actual job, but I personally admire people who see it as their responsibility. Whether its actual resources going to real life projects, charities or charities, that’s one piece of it. But like I said, the content of the music can really change people’s mindset, and I know that I’ve definitely been changed by some musicians and lyrics that I’ve heard. Like I said, media is the third parent to anybody. I would just hope that people write things that call for more thought instead of less thought. That could make a huge difference.

(x)

#lucy dacus #interview #2017 #february 2017 #the new york observer #archival

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anjumbai · 6 months ago

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Hollow Knight: A Masterpiece

"No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering.You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams. You are the Vessel. You are the Hollow Knight." Steam Rating: 10/10

Just a random video of "what gaming is like to non gamers" on YouTube lead me to this game. A cute small bug looking creature, wearing a white helmet of some sort seemed as appealing as it seemed cute. A die hard fan of platform fighters made me wanna get into this 2D game.

From the very start, Hollow Knight hooks you with its beautiful art-style, the slow and soothing music, the joy of discovery. The world of Hallownest seemed like a mystery that the child in me couldn't wait to discover.

The knight, the lil bug looking creature we see in the poster is who we control the entire game. The knight is an entity, not a bug, but a being made of void and darkness, found out later in the game. Or at least that's when my dumb brain found that out. He is a vessel born of the abyss, and he has come to Hallownest to fulfill his calling.

I don't write about games I play, nor have I played a lot of games in my lifetime as passionately as I have played Hollow Knight. It's all the little things that makes this game awesome. Like at the very beginning we start the game with no direction. Our Knight enters the fading town of Dirthmouth with no map, no direction or aim. The game doesn't even provide us with a goal, and we're just here exploring the ruins of once a great kingdom. We are stuck in different places of the mouth, but the game not even providing us with signposts of where to go tells us that there has to be some other way. And of course, we are blessed with this passionate cartographer.

Meet Cornifer, the passionate map-maker of Dirthmouth who explores the ruins of Hallownest and provides us with half-done, sketchy maps. You can somewhat get by with his maps, but the real fun starts when you buy a quilt from his wife's shop in Dirthmouth to kickstart your own cartography career, inking out new and secret locations. The joy of exploration is found in finding out a new place, having no idea where it leads to and finally finding a bench so you can sit and ink out your own little updated map. The game could've gone for a typical style map, providing us with all our locations. But it didn't, and we can make our own way through the game. For instance, this is what Cornifers maps look like compared to what we expand:

We wander around the vast kingdom of Hallownest, looking for maps, new places, new bosses to fight. The boss-fights are amazing and they add so much to the lore that you find yourself intrigued with this mysterious world. The game loved to challenge your platforming skills and I'm here for it, despite the raging endeavors or the alt+f4's. And when you've played this game long enough, the kingdom of Hallownest opens up right infront of your eyes. Here is a vast animated map of Hallownest:

Whether it be the creeping weavers of Deepnest, the infected bugs of the Crossroads, the overgrown trees of Greenpath or the overly aggressive buzzy bees of the Hive, the game has always something new and creative to offer.

I cannot go on without talking about its beautiful soundtrack. City of Tears, the theme named after the capital city of Hallownest, is a beautiful soundtrack to preserve some peace in your mind. Or the emotionally exciting music that plays when we fight the Hollow Knight, named "Sealed Vessel", which is a personal favorite.

I want to write and talk so much about this. The lore is my favorite part of this whole game. The fights, the mechanics, or the osts are all amazing additions to the game. But a good game is basically how well you can tell an interactive story, combining and refining all of these things along the way.

I'm still at awe when I remember the emotions fighting the Hollow Knight made me feel. He is the vessel of the infection that plagues Hallownest, who has been deemed not strong enough to contain it anymore. Our Knight approaches and fights the Hollow Knight, but we are hit with the realization that its not us against him, but its the 2 of us against the infection. Throughout the fight, the Hollow Knight stabs himself repeatedly with the one hand that's left of him. He is made of the abyss, pure darkness, he has no voice to cry, no mind to think or no will to break. Yet he fights, his will almost shattered and having no voice to ask for help, it keeps on stabbing itself until we finish him with out final blow and become the next vessel. Which is just the first of 5 different endings we can have. 3 of them showing the actual final boss, The Radiance, the plague, the infection itself.

Very cute how lil the knight looks infront of it. But that's just another part of the lore, which deserves a whole post dedicated to it.

Another one of my personal favorites is when I find the Pale King, the king who ran away and abandoned his kingdom, hiding inside the White Palace, and dying of some unknown reason yet for us to fully understand. The knight finds him sitting on his throne, withered away leaving his kingdom to die in the hands of the infection.

I'd love to talk about the full lore someday, even though we don't even fully know the whole story. Thanks to Team Cherry, the only 3 man developer team that made this game possible. They are from Australia, which verifies that indeed, this whole game took place in some Australians backyard. They are a passionate bunch. You can simply tell by the game. The amount of hidden rooms laying waste behind a breakable wall is unnecessary. Makes you wonder if you missed a major character who was probably just laying dead behind a breakable wall. They added so many unnecessary details, not because it was crucial to the gameplay mechanics, but it was just some detail they wanted the players to find out. And Hollow Knight players have made them proud.

Hollow Knight is a game where we learn to take our own routes. The game doesn't lead us by the hand at all and we can just choose our own paths, finding different things in different orders, skipping things as we choose and feeling the sense of accomplishment found through discovery, making our journey that much worthwhile. Hollow Knight has went down as my favorite game of all time, standing with another, GoW.

10/10. Highly recommended.

#hollow knight #review #game review #team cherry #metroidvania #city of tears

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chrissesbabe · 10 months ago

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Painting-Matt Sturniolo

Guys, this is my first time writing on here, I used to write on wattpad and a bitch had 14k reads for it to be taken down but its fine[screaming retching, crying on the inside], so now I'm going to bless yous all with my writing. Hehe. Also, sorry for any spelling mistakes or the use of incorrect grammar first a cannit spell and a have a thick accent, sorry.

WARNINGS- smut and lots of it.

Y/N- pov

To say the least, I love art, my first true love, along with Matt, following close second. Me and Matt are best friends, we have been since we were little. Me and matt came as a pare, we still do.

To me, he's a work of art, the funniest most beautiful person on the planet but, he's clueless to the fact, I have loved him since the day we met, in first grade.

Butterfly's erupt amongst my stomach, when even Matt slightly touches me, or looks at me a certain way, I cannot take my eyes off him. But, I am absolutely petrified via the fact, if I confess my love to Matt, things may become awkward and we lose our precious friendship, or we break up and never speak. So for all these long, tedious years it has been my biggest secret.

Within, my years of high school, I have always done art, its my favourite subject, Matt adores my love of art. He thinks its cool and quirky like me and believes, I have great skill, which always makes me blush.

For one of my art projects I decided to photograph Matt, I paint a plethora of portraits and I have never loved painting anyone more than Matt. I make sure to capture, his soft brunette locks, ocean blue eyes, chiselled cheeks and perfectly shaped pinkie lips.

Sometimes, in art I often stare in awe of my best friends beauty, I just simply cannot get enough. Recently, for a new project my teacher asked me to paint a live portrait. Normally, I use reference photos but now, I must get Matt to sit Infront of me for hours so I can paint him. I can't wait, staring at Matt for hours, my dream, possibly not his, but he agreed as he loves watching me do what I love.

My phone begins to buzz as I see matts name pop up on my screen.

"Hey, y/n I'm coming over now, so you can do that painting thingy, can't wait." I smile to myself as I read the message, I cant fucking wait.

MATTS POV-

I see Y/N reply to my message with,

"Okay, the doors unlocked, can't wait to paint your ugly face."

I have been looking forward to this, ever since y/n asked me, it may sound silly, but the thought of seeing y/n with her concentrating face having fun, provides me with so much enjoyment. I love her art, it reflects how beautiful she is, and how amazing her talent is.

Y/n honestly gets me through life, without her support I don't know what I would do, through creating me and my brothers channel she was and always has been our biggest supporter, and I love her for it, along with much more.

Quickly, I walk to my car, and buckle myself in, giddly I drive to her house, in anticipation for the day. Wondering into her house, I hear her shout my name as I run up the stairs, waiting for the sweet moment until I see her angelic face.

She looks beautiful as ever, sitting calmly on her desk chair with a easel and a rainbow of colourful paints laid out neatly on her desk.

Her smile warms my heart, as I walk over to her.

"Hey, cant fucking wait for this." I exclaim, embracing her in a long soft hug, as she wraps her slender arms around my shoulders, making my dick harden.

YOUR POV-

"mhm", I mumble into Matts neck, his hugs always make me feel so warm inside.

He sits down on the bed, as I take creative liberty and move his hair from his face, positioning it even more perfectly than it was before, and moving his shoulders so he's facing the perfect angle for me to capture his features.

I giggle to myself, at how silly he looks just sitting waiting for me to paint his features. He furrow's his eyebrows at me.

"What are you laughing at?" He bellows in confusion within his low and raspy voice, giving me tingles for no reason.

"You just look so silly." He giggles, and shoves my arm. I sit down and begin sketching him, making sure to capture his sharp angular features.

Patently, he sits, he sits and waits for me to draw him, occasionally, i glance over and smile within which, he returns.

Hitting a dilemma, I must move matts face.

"Is it okay, if I just rotate your face slightly," I ask confidently, and he nods. I move my hands cupping his soft face and slightly move his face forward and adjust his earing.

I can't help it but, I accidently, brush my finger over his lips, innocently and kiss his cheek, which I normally do, but this was different. Matt blushes as I pull away and begin sketching once again.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Matt shuffling, and notice him adjusting his pants.

Omg, I think he's hard. There's no way, well at least not from thinking of me, but I'm the only person here, did I make my best friend hard.

Taking my opportunity, I sweetly adjust his posture, for the drawing, I tell him, I moved my hands over his legs pushing them further apart, for the drawing, I tell myself.

Untill, I look down, making eye contact with Matt, his eyes are filled with lust and sheer sex.

Is this really happening, I question to myself.

Matt snakes his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest as we maintain eye contact, he looks down at my lips and grips my arse.

"Matty, baby we can't." I signal secretly, not wanting him to stop.

"Call me, baby one more time and i'll never stop." he answers sternly, I smile at him smugly allowing him full consent, to do whatever the fuck he wants to me. Eagerly, Matt interlocks his lips with mine, and I return, he slips his tongue across my lips, tugging at them with his teeth, immediately making me more wet than I already am.

Slow soft kisses, morph into wet, sloppy needy kisses as, I swipe my hand across his pulsating dick. I need his dick in my mouth right the fuck now.

I pull back, in awe of my best friend since childhood, with his hard dick clothed under my hand. Matt, pushes his two slender fingers into my mouth, pushing them in and out repeatedly, as I suck on them, making me want to wrap my mouth around his dick more.

I take this upon myself to drop down onto my knees and provide him with a innocent look.

"Baby, let me help you." I whisper seductively.

"Of course princess." Matt whimpers and forms my hair into a ponytail. My pussy, aches for him, as I pull his pants down and release his hard dick. Fuck me, it nearly took me out, its huge.

"Matt, I don't think it'll fit." I asked intently.

"It will, I'm sure you can do it." His words of support, give me all the confidence I need.

I pick his dick up, and treat it like my worst enemy, spitting up it and rubbing my hand up and down his dick, spreading my spit all over, making sure to rub his tip in the process.

Wrapping my mouth around his hard member, I begin to bob up and down, pumping him with my hand. Forcing him to release soft groans and aches of pleasure. After a few minutes of looking up and giving him the sex eyes, along with precum coating my lips, Matt begins to twitch.

He, pushes my head down harder onto his dick, and bucks up into my mouth, compelling me to choke on his dick.

"Mhm, fuck yes baby, going to make Daddy cum, ye?" Matt mumbles.

I nod and moan into Matt's dick, which only makes me gagg more.

Matt picks up his whimpers, making me almost cum from his sounds. Suddenly, Matt releases and coats my mouth with his cum, as it drip's down onto my reddish lips.

I smirk to Matt and rub my hand up his dick and gently touch his tip, knowing how sensitive he is from cumming that hard.

"Let me make you feel good, princess." Making me fold, I interlock my lips with his, and he pulls my lace pantys down and pulls my oversized graphic t of.

Revealing my tits, Matt stares in awe of how big they are.

"How have you been hiding these." As he says this, he takes one nipple into his mouth leaving hickies all over my tits and rolls, my other nipple with his finger, making my head fall back in blissful pleasure.

"Ride me baby." Matt moans out, rubbing my clit, with my moist wetness, and pulls me down onto him. Slowly, I push his tip into me, moaning at his girth, ass I attempt to push him all the way in.

"Relax gorgeous let me in." Within his words, he guides me down onto him. Almost screaming, I begin to grind onto him. He places his hands onto my arse and slapps it aggresivly, causing me to release a pornographic moan. Making him smile in a lustful manor.

I begin to pick up my pase, chasing my orgasm and Matt's whimpers of pleasure edging me even more.

"You should paint this position." Matt groans out.

"Ohhh, fuck yes Daddy." I scream as I begin to sense that familiar euphoric feeling in the pit of my stomach form. What a great idea.

"Matt, Matt, I'm going to cum."

"Cum with with me y/n" My legs begin to shake uncontrollably, as I release around his dick, smothering my pussy in both our juices.

I drop a sweat peck on Matts lips, before I lay down next to him, my art supplies scattered everywhere.

"Y/N." Matt softly asks.

"Yes, Matt."

"I love you."

"I have loved you since the day I met you."

Hoped you enjoyed this you absolute sluts, I just came up with this on the spot and then me vape died, nearly cried. But I haven't seen anything like this before, hehe love art, thought a was being different and quirky. I have missed writing omg, if you have any suggestions make sure to message me, might not be able to do loads tho, as I have lots of revision.

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #fanfic

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