#fuck aesthetics and focus on the crack

[avonnimimi]

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Tease

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an: i think this might have been a bit rushed, it was incomplete in my drafts and I just decided to finish it for ya ;) i feel like the pics don’t match the aesthetic of this but it’s wtv. MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: Vi has a penis (wanted to try smth different), phone sex, dom!vi, mean!vi, name calling, nudes, breeding, cursing. lmk if i missed anything!

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You weren’t usually a tease. Sure, Vi always teased you, but this time, you wanted to turn the tables. Your friends were always talking about the stuff they’d send their husbands at work, risqué pictures, flirty texts, whatever it took to leave them a mess. And, of course, you wanted to see that side of Vi. You wanted to know what she’d be like if you pushed her just a little too far.

You knew she had a big meeting today. She’d told you this morning, her tone calm but firm as she kissed your forehead before leaving. “Don’t distract me today, baby,” she’d said with a small smile. “I really need to focus.” Not mean, not harsh, just focused. And yet, that only made it more tempting.

You slipped into your white lingerie, the one she loved. It was delicate, soft against your skin, hugging your body just right. You stood in front of the mirror, hesitating for only a moment before snapping a few pictures, angling yourself to show just enough to drive her crazy.

Your heart pounded as you hit send. And then… you waited.

Minutes turned into hours. You changed back into your normal clothes, went out for errands, tried to distract yourself, but the anticipation gnawed at you. Maybe she was too busy. Maybe she wasn’t going to say anything at all. You started to feel a little embarrassed. But then your phone rang.

It was her.

You answered immediately, trying to hide the nervous flutter in your chest. “Hi, baby!” you said, your voice light and cheerful.

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then you heard it, a soft, wet squelching noise. Your heart skipped a beat as the familiar sound registered in your head.

“Baby,” Vi’s voice came through, breathy and ragged. “Fuck, those pictures. They were amazing. Got my cock so swollen for you, mama.”

Your cheeks burned, heat spreading through your body as you heard her, really heard her. Her voice was shaky, desperate, like she was barely holding herself together. And the sounds… the wet, rhythmic strokes of her hand working her cock filled the line, obscene and raw.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, your voice catching in your throat. You didn’t expect her to sound like this, so needy and wrecked. She wasn’t teasing you or playing it cool. She was falling apart, and you could hear it in every whimper, every sharp hitch of her breath.

“Fuck,” she groaned, her voice breaking. “Put me in such a tough spot, baby. Sitting through that meeting with my cock this hard, trying not to think about you. About how you’d look bent over my desk, wearing that fucking lingerie.” She let out a low, desperate whine that sent a shiver down your spine. “God, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve got me so fucked up.”

You didn’t say anything, your lips parted as you listened to her unravel. You’d never heard her like this, so shameless, so absolutely desperate for relief. “Wanna stuff up that slutty pussy so good,” She groans. Every wet stroke of her hand was loud in your ear, her breath coming faster and faster as she chased her release.

“Baby,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “I wish I was there. Wish I could bury my cock in you, feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. I’d let you ride me—fuck, I’d let you do anything you wanted to me. Just want to feel you, mama. Need you so bad.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively, but you didn’t dare move. You listened intently, your heart pounding as she whimpered your name, her voice trembling with need.

“I’m close,” she panted, her strokes getting faster. You could hear how messy it was, the slick, obscene sounds of her cock leaking as she fucked into her hand like a man possessed. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, I—fuck, I can’t—”

She let out a choked groan, the sound raw and guttural as she came. You could hear everything, the way her strokes slowed, the wet noises of her cock spilling over her hand, her breathing uneven and shaky as she came down.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her catching her breath. Then she let out a soft laugh, her voice still hoarse. “Goddamn, baby,” she murmured, her tone warm and affectionate now. “You’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?”

You smiled to yourself, your heart still racing. “I didn’t mean to distract you that much,” you teased, even though you absolutely did.

Vi chuckled, the sound soft and low. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said, her voice still tinged with exhaustion. “But don’t touch yourself, okay? I want you to wait for me. Gonna take care of you properly when I get home.”

“Okay,” you said sweetly, even though you already knew you weren’t going to listen.

After you hung up, the silence in the room felt deafening. Your body was buzzing, your skin hot, your panties soaked from just listening to her. You bit your lip, glancing at the clock. She wouldn’t be home for hours.

You sat back on the couch, your hand already sliding down between your legs. “Sorry, Vi,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. “I can’t wait.”

You closed your eyes, her voice still fresh in your mind, the way she whimpered, the wet sound of her stroking herself, the way she’d called your name like it was the only thing keeping her sane. It didn’t take long before you were trembling, your fingers working you over as you replayed the call in your head.

When you came, it was with her name on your lips, your body arching as the pleasure crashed over you. You lay there for a moment afterward, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Guilt prickled at the edges of your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

She didn’t have to know.

The key turning in the lock announced Vi’s arrival, earlier than anticipated. A wave of panic mixed with lingering arousal washed over you. You smoothed your clothes, attempting a casual facade, but Vi’s knowing gaze saw through the charade. A predatory smile curved her lips.

“Hey, baby,” she purred, her voice thick with unspoken promises. The closing door clicked shut, amplifying the sudden silence. The air thrummed with a thick tension.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice betraying a nervous tremor. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Vi advanced, her movements deliberate and predatory. Her fingers traced your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. “Did you miss me?” she whispered, her thumb brushing your lower lip.

You nodded, the lie catching in your throat. “Of course.”

“Good,” she breathed, her eyes darkening. “Because I missed you too.” Her hand tightened possessively on your thigh. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

Your hesitation, the averted gaze, was all the confirmation she needed. Vi’s grip intensified, her fingers digging into your flesh. “Don’t lie to me,” she growled, her voice low and menacing. “I can smell it on you. Hear it in your voice. Feel the dampness already clinging to my fingers.”

Your breath hitched, your body betraying your deceit. Vi’s eyes gleamed with a predatory triumph. “You’re so wet for me,” she murmured, her hand sliding higher, pushing your skirt up with impatient fingers. “You were thinking about me, weren’t you? Imagining what I’d do to you when I got home.”

You nodded softly. “You couldn’t wait for me to stuff you up real good,”

Before you could respond, she shoved you back against the couch, her body a heavy weight pinning you down. “Gonna give this little cunt what she wants.” she growled, her teeth nipping at your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down to your collarbone.

Her hand delved between your legs, her fingers finding your slick folds. You gasped, arching into her touch despite the fear coiling in your stomach. “Vi,” you whimpered, a plea lost in the rising tide of sensation.

“Quiet,” she commanded, her long fingers pumping into you, curling so nicely in your sopping hole. “You don’t get to talk now. You just get to feel.”

Her fingers plunged deep, exploring your wet heat. “Soaked,” she murmured against your ear, her breath hot and ragged. “Just for me.” You cried out, your body bucking beneath her.

She leaned back, her eyes burning into yours. “You like that, don’t you?” she whispered, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “You like being used.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but the undeniable thrill spiraling through you couldn’t be ignored. Vi saw it, the flicker of desire in your gaze, and her smile widened.

She withdrew her fingers with a slick, obscene pop. You whimpered at the loss, your body thrumming with a desperate need. Vi reached down, unbuckling her belt with a sharp, metallic click. Her cock sprung out, tip angry and leaking precum. “Gonna nut in this cunt.” she growled, her voice thick with possessiveness.

She yanked your legs apart, roughly aligning herself with your entrance. You braced yourself, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Then, with a brutal thrust, she buried herself deep inside you.

You cried out, the feeling of her filling you, stretching you, overwhelming your senses. She lets out a loud groan, “God I love this pussy, so fucking creamy,” She began to move, her thrusts hard and fast, each one a punishing blow. The couch creaked beneath the frantic rhythm of their bodies. “You’re so tight,” she groaned, her voice strained with pleasure. “So fucking perfect.”

Her thick cock kissing your cervix so good you swore you saw stars, your cunt squelching, basically talking to Vi. Clit swollen, glistening with your juices.

She slammed into you again and again, her hips a blur of motion. The room spun around you, a dizzying vortex of sensation. You could feel her building, the tension coiling tight in her core.

Vi begins to whine, you clench harshly around her, “fuckkkkk yes princess just like that.” Her eyes roll back. “I’m gonna cum,” she growled. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty fucking pussy.”

And with one final, savage thrust, she did. You felt her release flood you, hot and thick, pulsing deep within you. She collapsed on top of you, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her weight a welcome pressure.

You lay there, entangled, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of her possession.

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this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2024

[7ndipity]

Dating headcanons pt.2

Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: crack, swearing

A/N: part one felt a little short to me for some reason, so let's cover some of the things we missed, yeah?

Masterlist

Requests are open

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Increasingly not so secretly romantic. He made hundreds of handwritten notes for everyone at his birthday fanmeet, imagine the kind of things he would do for an s/o?

The type to surprise you with a pillow fort and your favorite movie after a tough day and then try to brush it off like "I didn't really do anything tho".

Intentionally takes couple photos out of focus? Idk why, it's just become his weird aesthetic with you.

Man's a master of 'flirting, but not flirting.'

Starring at you while you're doing anything, with that lil head tilt and the fucking tongue thing he does.

Knows you have a thing for his hands, and will use it against you.

Although, would you really mind?(I'm going to hell for these posts)

Brutally honest. Like he loves you, but he's still Yoongi.

"Does this make my butt look big?" "Your butt is big." "EXCUSE ME?!" "What? I like your butt."

But also the most supportive boyfriend about even the littlest things, similar to the way he tends to go along with Tae's little bits or dances.

Does not fall for or tolerate those tiktok/text pranks.

"I want a divorce." "🤨we're not married? Also no" "But-" "NO" "okay rude."

Actually has a little box of momentos from dates with you, from ticket stubs and bottle caps to a paper crane made out of a shopping receipt.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him, because it means you feel safe with him (maybe got a teeny bit emotional the first time it happened, but will never admit it).

Has a habit of sniffing you?? Like, idk he just finds your scent really comforting. Always notices when you try a new perfume or shampoo.

Intentionally leaves hoodies at your place in hopes you'll wear them.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[strawberrykidneystone]

Im not quite sure if you do various characters hcs? But how about Christmas time with like Sevika, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Silco, or any one really that you can or will write for?,!

CRACKS KNUCKLES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE TURN IT UP

a/n: if they’re ooc im so sorry i’ve literally only ever written for sevika and vi before but i really want to try writing for all of them!!! also fuck it adding cait, mel and jayce in too

tysm for requesting anon <333

ANYWAYS

Christmas Time with Arcane Characters

sevika:

claims she’s not a “christmasy” person

did she cry when she watched the grinch with you? yes she did.

insisted on watching all 3 versions for comparison

gets really into grinch stuff

i’m talking pajamas, mugs, you even have a lit up fake dog with an antler tied to its head as decoration outside of your house

if you dress up at martha may you will not be walking for the next month

you sometimes catch her reciting lines while she’s busy doing chores

jinx:

oh she’s dragging you to all of the christmas light shows

yk how some zoos have zoolight nights or whatever?

yeah, y’all have annual passes

she still complains that you can’t actually see most of the animals and tries to yell at them to “wake them up” LMAO😭

literally SHOUTS whenever you pass a house that’s decorated with lights and insists that you stop to admire it

of course you oblige her because you also want to see the lights

she grabs your hand in hers as the lights reflect off her eyes, a joyous glow completely surrounding her

vi:

yk that scene in better off dead where he’s like “i’ve got this cousin that makes this monster eggnog made with motor oil”

that’s her

the spiked eggnog she makes is VILE

unless you realllllly like fireball with a drop of eggnog, then it’s good!!!

she makes the christmas dinner with a “kiss the cook” apron that jinx makes fun of her for

unfortunately she did have to kick you out because you were kissing the cook too often for her to focus

you almost made her burn the green beans!!!

ekko:

the WORST and i mean worst person to go christmas light decoration shopping with bc he’s like “i can literally make that for you at home”

shh it’s about the novelty and whimsy of buying things smh🙄

he drags you out of the store and spends the next few days making all of the decorations that you said you liked AND THEN SOME

he goes above and beyond, quite literally with the firelights stringing up lights up on the tree

once he’s done making the decorations, he gives you a smug grin as you admire them

“fine, you were right.” “i know, but it still feels good to hear you say it”

kisses your forehead before he’s pulled off to put up more decorations

viktor:

he would LOVE going on one of those hay rides that go around super decorated neighborhoods

idk if it’s everywhere but where i’m from there’s a certain neighborhood that has their electricity bill covered for like all of winter bc they’re all get SUPER into decorating and people pay to walk around

they also have hay rides that drive you through them so yes he would absolutely love that

i also feel like he would actually buys figgy pudding for carolers and is disappointed every year when none come LMAO

dw yall do karaoke to christmas songs and eat the pudding in the comfort of you own home

mel:

she’s has MULTIPLE christmas trees in your house, the main one being a huge white one with golden decorations that has all of your presents under it

the other “less aesthetic” trees have heirlooms and silly ornaments on them, but she loves them all the same

or so she claims

she has a mini tree in her nightstand that she treats like her baby complete it’s mini tinsel, ornaments, and even a lit up star on the top

she insists that it stays on when the two of you go to bed and you don’t have the heart to complain, plus it shines such a beautiful soft light on her that you can’t say no

goes to a LOT of holiday charity auctions with you on her arm and usually wins every bid, especially the items that catch your eye

jayce:

WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABOUT THE POLAR EXPRESS EXPERIENCE‼️‼️‼️

he'd be pressed up against the windows watching the landscape go by while the two of you are on the train

he’s BELLOWING all of the christmas carols and asks for extra marshmallows in his hot chocolate

the train ride is so much fun though and you’re both wearing matching pajamas of course

when santa comes and gives everyone their bells, he gives you his for safe keeping bc even though he KNOWS none of his pockets have holes, he’s still anxious about losing it

yes yes he knows that they arent the magic bells like in the movie, but he still smiles so brightly when they ring out

caitlyn:

she’s taking you to the nutcracker AND I DONT WANNA HEAR SHIT ABOUT BALLET BEING BORING I WAS A BALLERINA FOR 14 YEARS I DONT WANNA HEAR IT

anyways

the two of you get all dressed up and walk arm and arm into the theater, the lobby transformed as if you were stepping into clara’s party already

she def cries during the sugarplum fairy pas de duex

afterwards, the two of you stop at a little mom and pop diner and share a milkshake of your choosing<333

silco:

hosts the best christmas parties and always gives his employees a christmas bonus

only has 1 or 2 drinks at the party but loves seeing you get absolutely BLASTED

if they’re on the nice list that is

his favorite thing of the season by far is curling up with you by the fireplace and falling asleep in each others arms

even though he wakes up with a SERIOUS crick in his neck

[gaysindistress]

Van Helsing Retold - two

pairings: vamp hunter!reader x vamp!bucky

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 2.7k

One | series masterlist

Tag list: permanent @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv @cakesandtom series

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are purely for aesthetic purposes.

Bucky shoves his hands in his jacket pockets as he approaches a shadowy figure sitting on a bench by the river’s edge. The figure tips his head back to look at the vampire and then looks back to the water.

“Took you long enough,” Sam says as Bucky sits next to him, “it’s cold as hell out here.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “maybe you should’ve worn a thicker coat if you’re going to complain about everything.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him, “care to explain what happened between you and y/n?”

“How is she?”

“First tell me what happened.”

Bucky shrugs his jacket further onto his shoulders, “I didn't mean to throw her that hard.”

“Jesus,” Sam mutters to himself at first, “she’s alive but things aren’t looking great. Peggy’s venom got into a cut on her hand and the doctor was only able to freeze it.”

Bucky’s jaw tenses as he listens to Sam and when he responds, the words are low and deliberate, “Steve wants me to kill her and if he finds out she has venom in her system, he’ll make me turn her.”

Sam lets out a disbelieving laugh, “you can’t be serious.”

Stern blue eyes meet his dark brown ones.

“Fuck, what are we going to do?”

Bucky looks towards the river, “how badly do you want your Guild Master dead?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Sighing, Sam looks to the river too, “You think Steve would buy it?”

Bucky shrugs, “You’ll need to get some of her stakes and hide them in John’s stuff. I’ll tell Steve that she told me it was him and then I killed her. I’ll set her safehouse on fire and you’ll get her to safety.”

“He’s going to search the fire for a body.”

“I’ll handle that. All you need to focus on is hiding her stakes in his room and getting her somewhere safe.”

Sam gets to his feet and turns to walk away but asks one more question before leaving, “Why do you care what happens to her?”

“I…i don’t know.”

The vampire hunter rolls his eyes, “so much for trust and honesty.”

“I am being honest. I don’t know why but I do. Everytime I even think about her, something inside me feels like it’s breaking. Fuck, when I threw her in the warehouse, I felt it. I felt her hit the pole and pain in her head. And…and I couldn’t figure out why my hand has been hurting but now it makes sense,” Bucky mumbles as he stares ahead and clenches the hand in question.

“I thought…” he starts but gets tripped up over his thoughts, “I thought that… you know… you couldn’t feel each other until you’re both turned.”

Pained blue eyes rip away from the dark river and snap to Sam.

“We’re not supposed to be able to. We might feel a draw to them if they’re still human but she…” Bucky blinks rapidly for a moment as if to blink back tears, “she’s not just any human. She’s a Van Helsing, it would make sense if the bond showed up differently.”

“Do you…do you really think she’s…”

Bucky cuts him off, “for her sake, I hope not.”

“And what about you?”

He takes a long pause before speaking, “what I want doesn’t matter.”

Waking up in the infirmary once again is a cruel reality check; however, the blinding lights saved me from the dream I'd been having.

I’m back in the warehouse but instead of the female vampire on the floor, it’s me. My own stake is deep in my chest and I’m falling to the ground as he yells for me. His voice is strained and cracking as he cries out my name but he’s too far away to do anything, to save me. The agony in his eyes brings tears to my own and they burn as I jerk awake with them still falling down my face.

Sitting straight up, my body feels like it’s on fire and my venomous hand is pulsing as if it has its own heart beat. I slowly bring it into my view, the hand shaking as I stare down at it. Black veins crawl up to my wrist but stop and the skin has a deathly color to it. The bones beneath the thinning skin are prominent and ache from the venom among other things. Hidden under the veins is the small scar where the venom must have infected me. Vampires heal at extraordinary rates but the place where they were infected and turned remains. I’ve seen some with gashes down their chests, others with thin bands on their necks, and the one that did this to me had the smallest puncture wound on her neck. I wonder where and what his scar is.

Sam's soft snoring breaks my trance and I look over to find him slumped in a chair, fast asleep. His legs are outstretched and his arms are crossed over his chest as his head leans against his chest. He’s dressed in a thick coat and I can see where the night’s rain hasn’t dried just yet. He must have been out hunting but I don’t see any gear, any weapons on him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases me and my eyes flicker to his dark ones, “how are you feeling?”

“Like I’m half dead.”

“Closer to death or life?”

I look at my hand for a moment, “like 55% alive.”

He groans as he stands and stretches, “I’ll take it.”

A ball of black fabric lands on my feet and my boots thud at the side of my bed.

“Get dressed.”

“Why?” I narrow my eyes at him as I shrug a black turtleneck on and snap my worn but beloved tactical vest on.

He turns to give me privacy as I put on the cargo pants, “I found a lead.”

I pause as I’m lacing my boots, “on what?”

“Your hand.”

“Who did you sell your soul to to get that info?”

Sam laughs, “more like who did I have to kill but same difference I guess. It doesn’t matter though. My contact said that this Helmut guy has an anti venom of some kind.”

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit,” I scoff as I stand, my body protesting from being bedridden for three days. Pulling my jacket on I stop at Sam’s side where he turns to me with a gentle smile.

“Bullshit or not, we have to try.”

“Or we could cut my hand off. I’m sure John would buy the best prosthetic hand money can buy.”

“And forever be indebted to that man?” He teases me again and slings his thick arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side, “not a chance in hell. Not a chance.”

Something is wrong.

Something is…..off.

Outside of the office we’re sitting in is too quiet with it being in a thriving nightclub. We pushed past dozens of intoxicated people and were surrounded by even louder music but here in this room, I hear none of it.

The men around us are too still, too unmoving. They’ve made no noise, not even those that come with breathing. The man before us, or at least what I assume is one, also isn't moving. I can’t tell with the maroon mask that covers their face. Regardless, something feels deeply wrong about this place.

The person before us in the maroon mask suddenly leans forward in their leather chair and sniffs the air.

They sniffs the fucking air.

Even though I can’t see their entire face, I can see everything I need to in their eyes that are pinning me to my chair. Sam stiffens next to me and I make a quick sweep of the room with my eyes for anything to help us out. I’m in no position to be pulling the shit I'm about to be but if I’m right (which I usually am) and Sam led us into a vampire den, I’m going to have to pull this shit regardless of how I feel.

The masked vampire leans back into their chair and tears their chin on their fist.

“You don’t have much time,” he says to me in a low accented voice. German.

A German vampire.

Even fucking worse.

I narrow my eyes at him, “probably not. Comes with the territory though.”

“Ah the dangerous life of a vampire hunter,” he chuckles, “tell me Van Helsing, who did it?”

“The wife of the leader of the Captain’s Guard.”

I can see the mask raise as he raises his eyebrows at my admission.

“And for my next trick, I’ll turn this bottle of whisky into assault and battery,” I say plainly as I tear said bottle from the desk in front of me. I smash it on the edge and throw the two halves at the guards behind us. Before they can move to defend themselves, the broken bottle halves lodge into their necks and they fall to the ground. Sam is quicker with his matches and flicks a bundle at both bodies as the masked vampire stays in his place.

When I turn to him, he pushes his chair back and stands. Rounding the corner, he perches himself on the front of the desk with his hands clasped in front of him. He’s holding something but I can’t see what it is nor did I see him grab anything. Sam pulls me slightly behind him as he stares at the other man, “Do you have it?”

“Of course I do,” he says and reveals a syringe with thick black liquid in it, “but it won’t do her any good.”

“is that the anti venom?”

“It is for some but for you no.”

“Quit the cryptic riddles, is that the anti venom?” I snap as I step around Sam but his arm is quicker and it yanks me back behind him.

“As I just said, not you. What you need is the blood of the one that you crave and this,” he says, lifting the syringe so it dangles in between us, “is not that.”

I let out a cry of anger as it tumbles from his hand and smashes on the floor. Sam hauls me into his arms and pins me to his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss at Sam as he struggles to keep me against himself, “he just broke his bargaining chip.”

“Ah but that’s where you’re wrong. The anti venom that I dropped,” he throws a pointed look at the black blood and broken glass at our feet, “is useless to you. Not even the blood of the vampire thet your venom belongs to could cure you. The only one who could is the one that you crave.”

“What are you talking about? The one I crave? I’m a Van Helsing, I don’t crave any vampire let alone their blood,” I sneer at him. I'd stopped fighting and allowed him to hold me up. My body is weak already and the little whisky bottle action that I did see drained whatever energy I had stored. I can feel the fatigue seeping into my body and the venom finds joy in being able to cause me great amounts of pain.

“You may be a Van Helsing but you are no better than the rest of us,” he sneers back before looking at Sam, “I gave you what you wanted and now it is your turn to give me what I want.”

“No, all you gave us was a riddle that’s impossible to solve,” he says through clenched teeth as his grip grows tighter on me.

The vampire says nothing but cocks his head slightly towards the door behind us. It clicks open and a familiar scent of cinnamon mixed with incense wraps around us.

“Helmut,” the voice that’s haunted me for a week now says slowly.”

Helmut, the masked vampire, seems to smile behind the maroon face covering, “Hello lap dog.”

Even though I can’t see him, I can feel the anger that boils under his skin and the way his body tenses in efforts to control it. I can feel the deadliness of him in the way his footsteps stalk towards us, the predator in him aiming for Helmut. He stops at Sam’s side but far enough back that I can only see the leather jacket he’s wearing. My sick hand begins to ache and I try to push it away by gripping onto Sam’s arm tighter but it does nothing. If anything it causes another way of anger to rip through his body and it comes out in his voice.

“You’re on the Captain’s Guard’s territory,” is the only thing he seems able to say.

Helmut shrugs and settles on the desk, “It was once all the same, why shouldn’t it be that way now?”

“This is punishable by death.”

“But I have a suspicion that you won’t follow through on those orders.”

Sam starts to slowly move us backwards and it seems like the two vampires don’t notice. They throw violent words back and forth, completely ignoring that we’ve almost made it to the door. Sam lets me go enough to open it but a sweeping wave of exhaustion wipes over me and I crumble fast. He’s barely able to pick me back up as I struggle to keep my eyes open but he’s not focused on me.

His attention is solely on the two bloodsuckers that are now turned to us.

An involuntary moan of pain leaves my lips as he tries to pull us away and the last thing I hear before the black fades in again is the sound of his voice calling out to me.

A beautiful cry in the cacophony of chaos that is the inside of my head.

Pain erupts at the back of Bucky’s head and it threatens to blur his vision. Helmut makes another snide comment but all he can focus on is the pressure building at the base of his skull and the fear that’s raising in his throat.

A sound so heavenly calls to him from behind but in combination with the physical effects he’s dealing with, he refuses to dwell on it. Turning he stops Sam with the Van Helsing girl in his arms.

She looks…weak. Black veins pulse in one of her hands and her eyes flutter close as she goes limp in the other hunter’s arms. Her skin has a deathly hue to it and her pulse barely registers from across the room. The sound that caused him to turn at first was really a moan of pain and his blinding need to make sure she is okay distracts him from Helmut. The masked vampire launches himself at Bucky and tackles him to the ground. His mask is gone now so he can allow every bit of venomous anger he has to be conveyed in his face.

“I should cut her and force you drain the life from her,” Helmut sneers, baring his teeth in a truly animalistic manner, “or maybe I should tell your master who she is to you and let him decide how to dispose of her.”

Time slows.

Sam’s and the van helsing girl’s heartbeats pound in Bucky’s ears. Helmut’s satisfied smile at his silence morphs into one terror and he falls away from Bucky as blood pours from his chest. There’s a dull thud and rolling follows as Bucky slowly climbs to his feet. Stepping over the heart that was once in Helmut’s chest, he approaches the two hunters. His piercing eyes are zeroed in on the girl and she’s passed off to him.

She makes a faint noise but nothing aside from her breathing. Bucky shakes as he pulls her tight against him and buries his nose in her hair. The smell of Jasmine and oranges floods his senses as he allows himself to find comfort in having her against him.

He hooks an arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders as Sam ushers them out. The club is as packed as it had been when they all arrived but no one notices the three. Sam gets them safely to his car and takes off as fast as he can by that time the Van Helsing girl starts to blink awake.

[beesmygod]

one of the consequences of modern webcomicking and the mainstream aesthetics of the medium that focus on "cleanliness" (in terms of readability, not hygenically) is that the worlds of characters trend toward being sterile, plastic, barbie's playhouses dioramas for the cast to be assembled upon unnaturally. both indoor and outdoor settings feel devoid of any proof of human (or whatever the cast is comprised of) life before the characters were called in to take their places on set. it feels as ` ethos "a background is a place to put my character" rather than "a background is a slice of my character's actual life."

uhhh i dont know if that makes sense. its like. there are comics with interior backgrounds that have the exact same strand of bland nothingness to them as the houses you can rent for filming commercials or pornos or whatever. universally, across all locations, there's no fucked up walls or mismatched furniture. there's no broken legs on chairs or cracked dishes. no dishes in the sink. no dirty windows or bird shit on buildings or statues. no gum stuck to the ground. i don't think people need to go whole hog; this isn't an argument for maximalism. but to consider what gets left out when the background is comprised of assets or stock imagery: class signifiers, socio-economics of the locations, local ethnic influences on the region. a little bit goes a long way. or maybe it doesnt and im rambling nonsense. i guess...we'll never know...

but for me my favorite type of backgrounds are steve purcell's. aggressively maximalist tho.

[rataccatak]

Analysis of how KaySD draws Sergey Razumovsky

Or: trying to justify a thirstpost about the world's most terrible man

Sergey's gone through a number of artists through the years, and I gotta say, KaySD's rendition has captured my heart. In fact, it was a screenshot of Kay's Sergey that first got me into Major Grom. While Phob's is the official art style that we associate with the comics, Kay's style, I believe, better serves Sergey's character in the current PD run.

Genre-wise, PD returns to being a big-action, ensemble comic, which--compared to The Game's tight conflict and human drama focus--deliberately implements Kay's more traditionally comic-book style to this effect. The first arc (nine volumes in total) of PD are all Kay; though the current issues are being outsourced to a number of different artists now, Kay's style--with its roots in distinctly American superhero comics, such as DC--was what they wanted to prime audience's expectations with. After Time of the Raven, there was a big push for Bubble to adhere their stories to big names like Marvel, and with that came the desire to usher in things like a multiverse, space and supernatural elements, and franchise crossovers. Plague Doctor was one of their latest installments of that new "culture," and they had to match their aesthetics appropriately.

Okay, but that brings me back to the brainrot part of this post, which is HOT DAMN KAY'S SERGEY LOOKS SICK???

The whole idea of Plague Doctor is that, for like seven years or something, Sergey has been declared dead or missing or otherwise MIA. Nobody, both in-universe and irl, knows where he is or what the fuck he's up to. You crack open issue 1, encounter a guy in sunglasses and a hat who is painfully obviously Sergey, but you get to the last page and

(I will say this is probably the most unflattering frame of him. His chin makes him look like such a chad derogatory)

BAM. HOMEBOY IS ROCKING A NEW HAIRCUT, HE'S WEARING ANOTHER STUPID PURPLE SUIT, HE'S RIPPED, AND HE HAS BLUE EYES.

This isn't the soft, sort of angelically beautiful Sergey we're used to seeing from Phobs. It's radically different, an entirely different character almost, which was the intent.

His new look is more practical, both tactically and socially. His hair is cut, so people won't recognize him as easily. It won't get in his face or get grabbed during fights, and combined with his more muscled build, this is a Sergey who's taking things more seriously this time around. Gone is the flamboyant cape and swishing fiery locks; the plague doctor campaign is no longer a passion, but a duty. And he's ready to enter the thunderdome and get his hands dirty and god damn it, he will die trying.

Kay does take care to preserve the core elements of Phob's Sergey, while making a hard left into traditional masc territory. He's still unrealistically attractive, in that distinctly soft and youthful way. He's more noticeably fit but still maintains a slim, smooth appearance.

But on top of that, he adds this charm and charisma to him that is distinctly boyish (as in, young and mischievous, a pretty face that's up to no good). It makes his persona as a young, leftist radical more believable; he looks like a student revolutionaire, angry and passionate about all issues topical and trending.

He does look more obviously aged. Guy is now in his mid(?) thirties, and the past five years probably amounted to like three lifetimes of stress, so it certainly makes sense. Compared to how Kay drew The Game Sergey, his face is more defined with sharper lines, muscularity, and wrinkles. The short hair also ages him somewhat, making him look less angelic and more like... a regular dude.

And of course, there's the overnight peach fuzz.

The more mature, aged look helps him actually look like a person who's lived a life as loaded and fucked up as Sergey's. He's a guy whose parents died, grew up in foster care, became a CEO that rocketed to stardom in five years, committed the most elaborate fucked up terrorist campaign ever, and then immediately fell from fame to the deepest coldest cell in St Petersburg (and this is all just the OG Major Grom run). He's not Phob's Sergey (or Rag, whoever it was in The Game)--a blameless childish pretty boy who's detached from his crimes. Kay does a good job in making Sergey have this subtle undertone of... unsettled, unhinged, what have you. I don't know how much of this is hindsight bias, but he looks like a guy with a fucked up secret. You wouldn't think twice if you were seeing him in a grocery store or something but I can imagine later recognizing his mugshot on the news and thinking wow now that i think about it, he really does look like a serial killer.

And let's talk about his fashion. For all the features of Sergey's flamboyant costumes in Phob's renditions, Kay dresses him quite casually, and it works, ironically, to make him look deceptively plain in the way all extremely rich people dress (think of the $10k white t-shirts and sunglasses get-up all rich men wear). He dresses like his current social stature: a new-money sod who has gotten used to his wealth enough that he doesn't have to show off with his clothes anymore. Of course, this could also be turned on its head and instead, be an indication of Sergey's original, cheap clothes that he habited from his childhood. Certainly, the ironic rightwing graphic tees Kay puts him in edge towards that point of view, only now they're colored by Sergey's sense of political humor. I doubt a "god guns government" shirt is selling for $500 at some luxury tailor shop.

This is what I love about Kay's Sergey. In making him look more human, we get to orient him more organically into our own world. He looks like a thirty year old loser who studied CS in college and now commits cyber terrorism and doesn't know how to cook. He looks like a young adult leftist who is terminally online and has 500+ open tabs on Marxist theory. He looks like a guy who became too rich too young, who was the world's angle and then its devil in the span of like two years, and is now disillusioned with it all, who wears $5 graphic tees and stays up all night looking behind his back and tries desperately to find something that actually matters.

Once Sergey looks more believable, he becomes more understandable. And the more we understand him, the more the story has the potential to make him intrigue and surprise and reach us in multiple, unexpected ways.

[lurkofyourlife]

not me writing out a whole goddamn multi-part post for this fantasy of [first person pov representing] me and [unnamed moot representative of multiple moots]. >< Tumblr kinksters rotting my brain challenge 🩷😵‍💫

Anyway, part one is gender neutral (implied cock/strap) and is really just flirty kink negotiations 👉👈 enjoy! (heads up for discussion of cnc kink, and there is a joke about snuff, but nothing graphic)

1

Okay so… as much as I’d love to say it starts with something fun like abduction or being hunted through the back halls of some concrete building, it doesn’t. 

It starts with a consent discussion, funnily enough. 

Me going pink, squirming in my seat, finding it hard not to giggle nervously or crack jokes to break the awkward tension as I say yes to item after item, or nod and chew my lip when words fail me. Ears gone pink with a blush as I shrug and regretfully say no to a couple things, but you assure me it’s okay to have boundaries and we don’t need to do everything, and if I really want to expand my horizons that can happen on a different meeting, it doesn’t have to be right now, right at this time; focus on what feels good and is the most exciting, what I’m most eager to try. 

Going through the list feels like foreplay. 

“Impact?”

“Dying for it,” I admit. 

“Snuff’s not on the list, puppy, that’s fiction-only,” you joke, and I snort like an idiot. “What kind of impact?”

I remember things I’ve seen, things I’ve done. “I like thuddy more than stingy,” I admit, cheeks burning. “Wouldn’t mind feeling like a punching bag maybe, though I’d rather not end up with… like… lasting harm, here.”

“Yeah I’m not sure I could stomach doing that.”

I’m a little disappointed, eyes flicking up like I’m worried you’re judging me, then I realize what you meant. 

You seem cheery as you add: “I don’t think you want a concussion.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t. But bruising is cool. I like having something to look back on later.”

“So impact yesses are punching…?”

“Slapping, floggers, those heavy strap things - not sure about a belt, though - crops, weighted gloves, paddles if you’re gentle with me, singletails in moderation-”

Now you’re laughing, the more I babble about how much I’m willing to do. “Maybe we should figure out the nos.”

“Limited use of caning. I don’t mind a gentler cane, a few strikes here or there, but not like… bloodied marks from it, y’know?” Ears burn; I’m a little embarrassed to say no to blood when I like the aesthetics of it so much. 

But you’re patient, nonjudgmental. “That’s cool, there’s plenty that can be done without breaking skin.” 

Swear to god, that sounds like a promise and it goes straight to my cunt. “Oh, claws too. Whartenberg wheels. And I also like knives,” I volunteer, on that same line of thought. “Not like cutting, I’m still kinda a wuss about that, but I wouldn’t mind, um. Like… the threat of it.”

Your lips turn up, then press flat, like you’re hiding your smile. “You want me to hold a knife to your throat while I fuck you?”

Immediately my throat feels tight, eyes going wide as I just blink for a second, blue screening as my insides flutter. “Hhh–I uh–” I choke on the words, coughing. 

“Didn’t realize I could choke you without a hand around your neck,” you tease. 

“I uh– UHM.” The blush burns so hot across my skin, I feel like I’m melting a little, shifting in my seat as my toes curl. 

“You’re adorable,” you tease as I quickly place cooler hands over my heated face. “God, I am so curious if I can get you nonverbal.”

“You can,” I mutter from under my hands, hiding from the attention I was so desperate for. “It’s actually super easy,” I mumble, “I lose like 90% of my vocabulary when I’m being fucked.”

Your hand slides up my back to bury itself in my hair and my breath catches, a little whimper as I shiver and goosebumps break out all over my skin. “Well, we’ll see if we can hit that before you even see what I’m packing, huh?” 

“Ihhh-” Already my words are failing. I feel squirmy and pathetic and so fucking wound up right now, hands pressed to my thighs and flexing and bunching like I can get the nerves out. My whole body is shaking, I want this so bad. “Uhmm, mhm,” I manage, squeakily. “I– uh huh.” Really hard to talk with your hand twisting in my hair. Instead, little whines keep catching in my throat as I try not to come across like the desperate little slut I am at the moment. 

“Christ, you’re gonna be fun,” you murmur, tightening and loosening your grip in my hair as I shiver.

I’m down for anything at the moment, kinda want to get wrestled down and have my clothes ripped off and just get rutted into the floor, if I’m honest, but that’s all a messy slideshow in my brain as I tremble and pant and hope you’ll keep making moves. 

“...We should finish this list.” 

Your hand leaves my hair and I’m so fucking disappointed, a little whine making you smirk as you look back down at the paper we’ve been going through. It’s good to have limits and wants in place, I know that, but godddd I’m impatient. Well. Impatient, in theory. I love how much this is dragging out; every little shift in my seat feels slick. 

I give more yeses, a few more nos, and as the hair pulling wears off I get chattier, start to offer answers you didn’t ask for (“I like to struggle,” and “can’t fault a bit of wrassling,” and “my gag reflex could use work but I love sucking fingers,” and “I just like to make my partner laugh, I don’t care if it’s at me– if it’s at me, it’s with me, really,” and on and on and on). 

At long last, we’ve reached the end of the list. “And you know your safewords?”

“Traffic light system, right? All green.”

“Even with your ‘red tags’?” 

“I just won’t talk about the color of the tags,” I smile, “I’ll be too busy wanting them. But I can also just say safeword if you’re worried about it.”

“Deal. Are we saying no means no?” 

“I don’t say ‘no’ as often as I’d say ‘don’t,’ and I think the appropriate response is probably to tease me a bit and then ask for a color, if I’m honest.”

“You’re doing my job for me.”

“I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Sick little puppy.”

The blush is back, “A bit,” I admit. “Juuuust a bit.”

[ficfessions]

I agree that this community isn't very beginner friendly, whether you try to make your graphics and account look decent or even aesthetically pleasing. I've seen some posts by some users in which they have decent graphics but it doesn't get to even 1/4 of as much some other creators get so it's not the fact some people don't make an effort

and I agree graphics aren't that hard to do, I learned to do it on my own but the difference is many big creators use photoshop so the ones that use knockoffs like adobe, ibis or photopea will never be able to make something as great no matter how hard they practice 😭

about to sound kinda harsh but this is lowkey getting annoying because the fic is genuinely one of the few places where you can suck and no one really give a fuck lmao 😭 idk why yall are using your own insecurities about your graphics, which are not even supposed to be the main focus of your blog, it's supposed to be the writing, to discourage yourselves from posting and blaming it on, again, a fairly welcoming and open community.

truly, there are several "big" creators who don't have the craziest graphics and still retain an audience because of the characters. you have to actually post and have a likeable character to get traction which i fear yall just aren't doing or your expectations are too high for your note count.

here's the note counts of several different "big" accounts from the past five days, but a typical note count from a new creator who's actually giving something of substance will look smaller, like, max ten notes until they built up a stronger foundation.

also, sorry, i disagree with that last statement as i've seen crazy amazing graphics made on photopea as it is very similar to photoshop. yall have already cut yallselves short with this notion that you won't be as good as other creators, which is truly the root of yalls problem, because you don't use adobe products and that simply isn't true. if it matters that much to you and your skills development, there's a billion photoshop cracks out there you can try, but genuinely if you're insecure in your work or are only care about breaking 20 notes, i don't think that will help you that much.

no further anons will be accepted on this topic as we believe it's being beaten to a pulp atp. either you're going to post in the tag or you're not. we hope you do! but you cannot keep blaming others for your own shortcomings. thank you.

[sweetperversiongirl]

Thank you Rayray @rayrayor for encouraging me to participate in the Drabble Challenge ♥ Thanks to Mandi @bawlbrayker for helping me edit this ♥

Here's my drabble on request number 15: “I’d kill for a coffee...literally.”

Morning crept inexorably into Ian and Mickey's bedroom, along with the sun's insidious rays. They should have gotten new blinds to replace the old ones Ian had taken from Lip and Tami's house in Milwaukee. In fact, Ian wasn't the least bit bothered by the fact that he had to wake up literally at the crack of dawn. He had long since gotten used to the strict regimen. The same could not be said for his husband, who had become particularly restless lately. Besides, Mickey had always hated the beginning of the work week.

Not that Ian thought there was any reason for Mickey's restlessness. But apparently Mickey himself thought otherwise.

The agitated tossing under the covers signaled to Ian that his husband was awake, and not in the best of spirits. It didn't come as a surprise to him either.

"Fucking shit!" Mickey jumped up from the bed so abruptly that the phone Ian was holding fell onto his chest.

Raising an eyebrow, Ian decided he wasn't going to release any comments just yet. Instead, he preferred to focus on enjoying the magnificent sight of his grumpy and completely naked husband. He couldn't hold back a disappointed sigh as Mickey quickly picked up the first boxers he could find from the floor and put them on, thus depriving Ian of an important part of his aesthetic pleasure.

Standing in front of the window, Mickey grabbed the blinds, crumpling them at the edges. He then jerked his arms violently, pulling the blinds off the window, allowing sunlight to fill their bedroom.

"Might as well not have this shit in here," Mickey yelled, throwing the now permanently broken blinds to the floor. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw Ian an angry look. "You should give this shit back…” he kicked the blinds with his foot,"to your fucking brother. I'll be fucking glad to know that asshole has as fucked up a morning start as we do."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with my morning," Ian couldn't resist commenting, for which he was immediately rewarded with two blue knives pointed right between his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I completely forgot that you are Mr. 'Nothing Can Take Away My Zen'. In that case, Master Shifu, could you stop thinking only about your own ass for a second and take care of your fucking neighbor? Isn't that what fucking kung fu teaches?"

"Actually, kung fu teaches you to be more tolerant of your neighbor first and foremost," Ian snapped back. "I'm sure I've been pretty good at it so far, Mickey."

With those words, he threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. His morning boner stared proudly at the ceiling as Ian stalked naked into the bathroom. He didn't like the fact that his husband had managed to get him off balance so quickly, but Mickey's lustful sigh behind Ian's back made up for that brief discomfort.

Ian's peace of mind was fully restored after Mickey caught up with him in the bathroom doorway. Ian received his rightful morning blowjob, which he immediately returned to Mickey with all the enthusiasm of which he was capable.

Brushing his teeth, Mickey mentioned in passing that Kit, their new West Side client, had turned out to be a sneaky bastard who'd tried his best to drive the price of shit down. Ian simply reminded Mickey that credit should be given to Kit, since it was Mickey who had arbitrarily jacked up the price of shit. The incident was over.

Until it turned out that there was no coffee in their apartment.

________________________________________________________

As they approached Starbucks, they found a line a mile long, which in itself was not surprising for a Monday morning. The next coffee shop was much less crowded, much to Ian's sincere joy. All his hopes of getting the morning going again were dashed immediately after the waiter mixed up their order and brought them iced coffee.

"If I liked drinking this shit, I'd have stayed in fucking Mexico!" shouted Mickey desperately as Ian dragged him outside, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Eventually, after all the morning's misadventures, they found themselves in a tiny, unremarkable coffee shop. By West Side standards, it was just a hole in the wall, mostly ignored by the civilized locals. Ian figured: why not? After all, he and Mickey were still ghetto dudes, right? His temporary excitement quickly faded when he and Mickey walked up to the counter and found there.... the laziest barista in fucking Chicago.

Ian read the man's name on the nametag.

"Good morning, uh... Squidward?" he greeted the barista with the most idiotic name he'd ever seen. After the guy didn't even bother to look up from his phone at him, Ian decided to order anyway. "Double Americano and an Americano with cream, please."

Again, no response. Throwing a glance at his husband, who was leaning his butt on one of the tables, Ian realized Mickey was approaching boiling point. He returned his attention to the barista, already seriously contemplating that a plate of stale oatmeal cookies would look good on this guy's head.

"Hey, Mr. Tentacles," Ian muttered through clenched teeth.

Meanwhile, Mickey had gotten his ass off the table and walked over to the counter, resting his palms on it. A sly smile played on Ian's lips as he reached across the counter and slapped Squidward hard on the shoulder. The man didn't even flinch at this unceremonious invasion of his personal space. Instead, he slowly raised his head and stared at Ian, blinking his sleepy fish eyes stupidly, as if he didn't know there was anyone here but him.

Ian arched an eyebrow and nodded at Mickey's tattooed fingers, which his husband defiantly spread, knuckles pressing against the counter.

"I suspect you can read. Can you see what it says here?"

This time it apparently reached Squidward what an unpleasant situation he had gotten himself into. He swallowed awkwardly, and then, like an idiot, began to read aloud the writing on Mickey's knuckles. This made Ian growl impatiently and Mickey snort smugly.

"Bite him, Hercules!"

"Jesus Christ," Ian rolled his eyes, ignoring his shithead husband's retort. "Are the people in this place even capable of reading between the lines?" The barista blinked dumbly again. "Look," Ian noisily let the air out of his lungs. He points at Mickey’s tattooed fingers and spells it out, "It says, 'I'd kill for a coffee.' And that's not a euphemism, Mr. Tentacles. We understand each other now, right?"

With a hasty nod, Squidward jumped up from his seat.

A few minutes later, Ian and Mickey were enjoying a fairly decent coffee, seated at a table in the deserted coffee shop. They'd even allowed themselves to get a little fucked in the bathroom because Mickey was so damn horny. Ian thought he guessed the reason for that.

"Bye, Sponge fucking Bob. See you later," Mickey called out cheerfully, waving goodbye to Squidward as they left the café.

Once outside, Ian put his arm around his husband's waist and pulled him to him for a brief but deep kiss.

"Do you think he'll be happy to see us here again?"

"I don't care if he'll be glad or not," Mickey snorted. He looked relaxed now, which Ian couldn't help but be pleased about. "We'll definitely come back here again. Dude's a dickhead, sure, but his coffee's pretty damn good."

A wolfish smile blossomed on Ian's lips.

"Are you sure it's not because I turn you on so much when I'm angry?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Peter fucking Pan," Mickey rolled his eyes. "You know you look like a golden retriever most of the time, right?"

Twisting out of Ian's embrace, Mickey headed toward their parked car. Ian rushed after Mickey, resenting being demoted so abruptly.

"Hey, what happened to fucking Hercules?"

[hikarry]

Oh, now we’re talking. The homosexuality undertones on this bitch were devilish (it was 2010. I know we complain a lot but, realistically, it's nice we even had undertones of gay in a big project like this back then with big house name actors like Benedict and Freeman).

Watson's dry humour on this one scratched such a good itch on my brain (*High stakes situation*: 'How would you describe me?'/'Late?'). God, he's delightful.

First, let’s address this little moment: Someone is shooting at you in a museum -> Your reaction: 'Careful! Some of those skulls are over 200,000 years old. Have a bit of respect. Thank you'. I know we in Sherlock territory here, but that scene is so fucking Aziraphale coded. In the Sherlock AU I'm writing, I have Aziraphale as Watson and Crowley as Sherlock, but that line made me stop on my tracks to reconsider my choices.

Anyway *clears throat* focus on the plot, shall we?

The episode opens with some threatening graffiti, and a string of murders. Promising start. Yet, sometimes it feel like Sherlock forgot to press fast-forward on his own brain on this one (but I choose to overlook that because of that little smile he pulls in this episode. You know the one. I said I was going to review everything, but I never said I would be fair or unbiased.)

I have very bad memory, so, even though this is one of my favorite shows and I've watched this more times than I care to count, I don't remember any of the resolutions of any case, so I just sit here trying to deduce things before Sherlock and usually I fall short (because I'm dumb, mostly. I have the brain power of an old steam train) but the cipher was child’s play—took me five minutes to cracked it with a cocktail in hand.

Sherlock and John are still the best part of the show tho (watch my tune change drastically when we get to season 2 and I lay my eyes once again in the masterpiece that is Irene Adler). Their bickering and banter carried this episode on its back. I particularly always enjoy Sherlock being utterly useless at basic human interaction. Watching him try to connect with other humans is like watching me trying to dance— can be endearing, but it's mostly awkward, and mildly painful.

That said, I did love the vibes. The shadowy atmosphere, the eerie museum, and Sherlock's limited combat skills? All excellent. I thrive on aesthetic chaos and incompetence, and this episode has enough to keep me entertained.

Final verdict? Gave it 5 out of 5 even though I should have given 4 again cause I always offer bonus points for sword fighting.

[salted-fox-musings]

I looked at the base again in code vein and the fucking angry noise I made lol. A coven of vampires group of revenants bunking down in a rundown church is an amazing idea but... The base is a wreck. Both literally and design wise. First and foremost, it's important to note that the base is clearly designed for gameplay first, aesthetics second and any practical functionality to the actual characters is an afterthought. Before I get into the layout, I kinda wanna discuss the actual state of the church. Its basically cracking in half sitting on a completely destroyed foundation that seems to be precariously perched on some kind of split mountain. In addition to having the destroyed walls which expose the interior to the elements (one of those elements being a toxic substance to revs), there is chasm running through the floor that drops out into an unknown depth. The entire situation seems to be a poor choice for an established base. The layout is more a victim of needing of putting gameplay focus first. Rin's vault seems to be poorly stapled on and if a church did have such a massive safe, I'd imagine it wouldn't be in the main hall where the congregation would see it. How and why is a car in the middle of the hall? Why does Louis have his collection of books in the spot where they're at risk of being destroyed by the elements? There are many complaints I have the base. Maybe I'll write up what I would have done design wise later....

[vesselforsatin]

I started writing this for Valentines Day, but my health and job got in the way of me finishing it. It's way too late to finish this. At least for htis year. So I’m posting what I did get done for my Steddie Valentine’s Day fic. The idea was supposed to be that Eddie is a secret romantic and wants someone to express it all to. And he's had a thing for Steve for years because I love the headcanon. They end up spending Valentines Day together and Eddie romances/woos Steve the way he deserves. Maybe next year I'll finish it. But for now, this is an unfinished fic that's just Eddie pining. And I thought of these two lines, which had to be written:

“Isn't it against the laws of metal to be romantic?” Steve asked with a teasing grin.

“I don’t think so. I think it’s metal as fuck to be emotionally vulnerable with someone you’re into and to treat them with the romance they deserve.”

So enjoy under the cut!

(Also I haven't written anything that wasn't academic in forever. Please be kind)

Eddie would never admit it out loud, but he secretly yearned to let out all of the romantic fantasies inside his head. He maintained his cynical appearance on the outside. It paired with the rest of this aesthetic and it kept him safe. But deep down, Eddie was a giant softie. He craved affection and love. He wore his heart on his sleeve and everyone close to him knew it. So when Steve Harrington came barreling into his life and then refused to leave, Eddie's secret romantic desires reached an all time high. How could they not when Steve was so kind and caring? He had a dorky sense of humor that made Eddie crack up even when the jokes were lame. He was smart in a way that differed from the genius teenagers they surrounded themselves with, and picked things apart in a way that fascinated Eddie. And of course, he was the most beautiful man Eddie had ever seen.

He remembered freshman Steve Harrington, with his church boy clothes and shy smile. He was too cute not to catch Eddie's eye. Steve continued to catch Eddie's eye even as he transformed into the king of Hawkins High. Even when his shy smile had become a confident smirk, Eddie thought Steve was cute. Then Steve's fall from grace happened. His hair started to grow out. He spent most the fall wearing sunglasses to hide the ugly bruises on his face. He started wearing sweaters that looked soft Eddie reached out to touch without even thinking. Luckily, one of the guys were usually there to smack his hand away when Eddie's impulse control failed him. Then summer came and Eddie thought he'd seen the last of Steve Harrington. He walked into Scoops only one time before the mall blew up. Seeing Steve in a tight, short sailor suit was too much for Eddie. Especially when Steve turned around and Eddie noticed how pink his lips were. And were those highlights in his hair? Robin told him once how beat up Steve was when Starcourt exploded, but Eddie thought he'd still think Steve was beautiful. He certainly did when Steve was caked in mud, smelled like a sewer, and was borderline bleeding out. He was sure he admitted something like that in his delirium as Steve and Nancy dragged his body out of the Upside Down. But no other phase of Steve Harrington compared to the current one.

Maybe it was because Eddie finally knew Steve and didn't just have to admire from afar. Maybe it was because Eddie finally knew what it felt like to have those beautifully expressive hazel eyes focus solely on him. He now knew firsthand how caring and soft Steve could be, even when he was in pain himself. He also delighted to see that the bitchy side of Steve still existed and could demolish a person with just a few words partnered with a glare. That and Steve's protectiveness was what kept Eddie safe the first few months he started appearing in public again. Unfortunately, it made Eddie's longtime crush develop into full on love. Which made him act like a total idiot and flirt non-stop. And no matter how smooth Eddie tried to be, he'd start tripping over his words the second Steve smiled or laughed. He'd lay awake at night and try to plan how he'd flirt with Steve. He'd eventually fall asleep to the thought of showering Steve with the affection pent up inside of him and domestic fantasies that felt so out of reach. Eddie was both a hopeless romantic and just hopeless in general, but he was determined. In the weeks leading up to Valentine's Day he'd walked up to Steve with all the confidence he could muster, flirt for a while, and then chicken out before asking him out. Afterwards, he'd wallow in his misery while Robin rolled her eyes while patting him on the back. She finally snapped a few days before Valentine's Day and declared herself his wingman because in her words, "It's honestly embarrassing at this point. This is for the greater good and my own sanity." Eddie was just happy for any help he could get.

[exileorexodus]

awhile ago i sorted my phone to switch between two focus modes depending on the time of day and ngl i feel pretty cool wit it. Like idk that shit is just cool

im not gonna lie my setups make me look like a huge philza fan.

wait until i tell people that actually no, im just a huge fan of his community and their content and yes theres a difference. why are they all cracked why are the vibes on point. why is the food coming out of there top notch. bro. the themes and narratives. the sheer unbridled joy of creation. the himbo guy who is also the angel of death how the fuck do you people come up with this shit (its the urihara influence no doubt)

wait holy shit. philza fan for the aesthetic NAH ohhhh the community would cook me alive ohhhhh

[wordstrings]

Understanding Harmony

Critical Role: Bell’s Hells. Ashton and Imogen take a watch after the events of episodes 33–38. Written for @feather-aesthetic for the Squealing Santa 2k22 fic exchange. Prompt: playful/bonding situations. Words: 1,500

—

“I just…” Imogen’s voice hitches with a tiny, incredulous laugh that lilts and wilts into something almost sad. “Just can’t believe she’s back.”

Ashton stares into the fire for another moment before dropping their eyes to the twig they’ve been fiddling with between their knees. 

“Crazy, huh?” they say, for lack of anything more intelligent to add. 

Imogen twists her fingers into a loose fold of her skirt. The fabric tightens across her hands, a smart pair to the tension still visibly lingering in her body. 

“It’s not supposed to happen. Bringin’ someone back from the dead. Though, I guess, for Laudna… maybe it’s not so strange. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s weird,” Ashton assures her. The nubby end of one toothpick-thin branch snaps under their thumb. They roll the broken bit between their fingers. The tiny splintered end is sharp. 

“I never… never would’ve thought I’d see somethin’ like that. That I’d be part of that. Y’know? Heck, I just thought I’d be spending the rest of my life staring at fields and feeling alone. It’s just… a lot,” she finishes quietly. 

“Being alone isn’t so bad.” Saying it is almost habit. It’s true enough. 

The firelight catches in the glance Imogen darts their way. “Feeling alone, though. It’s different when you don’t really have a choice.” 

Ashton shrugs. “Not much different, in my experience.”

There’s a gentle scoff in Imogen’s voice when she says, “Then why’re you stickin’ around with us, huh?”

“Because Letters needs people.” It’s just as quick to surface, just as habitual. 

“But you don’t.”

Ashton knows a jab, even in the dark. The retort is already in their throat, clambering on the back of their tongue. But they swallow it, because Imogen isn’t coming after them, not really. They don’t have a ready-made alternative response, though, so they focus on the splintered nub, trying to crush it between their fingertips. It’s too small and just digs in, a tiny hard granule of dead wood.

A soft glow leans toward their mind but doesn’t quite enter. Ashton braces internally anyway.

“They’re pretty important to you,” Imogen says aloud, instead.

Having someone important is dangerous. That’s how stupid decisions get made. Case in point: letting a complete stranger put them all under so they can go fight the spirit of a necromancer in order to yank a not-quite-living, not-quite-not woman out of a tree-shaped manifestation of her trauma, or some shit. 

But then Ashton is caught completely off-kilter when Imogen continues: “What the fuck is up with that?”

Ah, fuck them, but it works. They crack a laugh.

Imogen laughs quietly along, too. It’s something shared, and it evaporates the murk that’s been crowding Ashton’s throat. 

“Somebody’s gotta look out for ‘em,” they say with half a smile. “Otherwise Letters would end up trusting some pack of fools hell-bent on getting dead for each other out of some poorly-advised sense of integrity.”

“Out of all of us, I think FCG is the only one with integrity, sometimes.” Imogen’s grin has seemed to soften her, as well. “They take good care of us. So do you, y’know. You both make a good team.”

Ashton does their best to skirt the compliment, but there’s still some warmth that surges up unattributable to the campfire. Riposte. “Can’t talk about a ‘team’ without looking at you two.” They tip their chin toward the sleeping form that is Laudna, with an empty gap at her side for only as long as Imogen’s on watch. “Closest I’ve ever seen two folks who aren’t in each other’s pants.”

Imogen huffs softly. She rubs her forearm with one distracted hand. “Lotta people don’t get it. That’s fine, I guess. But she just… she saw me when nobody else really did. She knew what it was like. Keeping away from people, feeling like connections were impossible. Laudna was the first new person I got physically close enough to touch in… god, in years. That kinda messes you up after a while, doesn’t it?”

It’s said rhetorically, but her tone clearly expects agreement, and Ashton isn’t inclined to agree. Being messed up: sure. One hundred percent, all day every day. Being messed up because nobody’s holding your hand, or lying close while you sleep, or filling some sort of sappy hug quota: nah. 

They settle for responding with a noncommittal grunt. 

“It was the simplest thing,” Imogen continues, smiling wistfully down at her hands. “Just touching my elbow to draw my attention to a flower. Handing me an acorn cap or a dead worm or whatever she was decorating her next little doll with. Her hands were always a bit cold but it was still soothing when she’d hum to me, like this.”

Imogen side-leans in just a bit, and it’s a testament to how far Ashton has relaxed with this group – for good or for ill – that they don’t duck away from her approaching hand. Her fingers alight on the back of their neck, gentle as a songbird, as she begins to hum a folksy, unhurried tune.

The touch on their nape drifts back and forth with the cadence of the song. Ashton doesn’t recognize the melody, but it’s easy to imagine it tells a story of land remembered or beauty witnessed. Imogen’s fingertips are… fine. Ashton wouldn’t call them soothing. Wouldn’t really call them anything. Their skin doesn’t register much of anything duller than a slap, so the fire-heated warmth and pressure of her hand is barely notable. But, they suppose, it could be nice – for a person whose body is not constantly, quietly ringing with the ache of pain. It’s yet one more luxury that Ashton is not permitted to experience. It would feel unfair, if they weren’t just used to it.

Imogen’s humming trots up and down in scale as she reaches some chorus line. Her fingers shift, tapping nails in staccato on the back of Ashton’s neck with the time.

Ashton’s shoulders pull slightly inward. Okay, they can feel that a bit more than the softness of fingertips. Kind of itchy.

Doesn’t seem like Imogen is paying any close mind, though. She’s gazing into the campfire again, her head canted gently in unseeing reminiscence. The chorus ends and her fingers fall back into drifting touches with the next wordless verse.

This is so foreign. 

Not hanging out with a group, or even having a low conversation in the night; it’s this kind of interaction, this connection, with someone who’s sharing something beyond job-related banter or a clipped story. Apparently Ashton is going to be treated to a full song with tactile accompaniment for no reason except Imogen wanting to give it.

The second verse ends. The chorus picks up again.

Shit, that really does itch when she does that with her fingernails. But, like, a shivery itchiness. It makes Ashton’s belly clench up a little. Especially when the nail tips drag short little lines in a wave pattern up and down their nape. An involuntary shudder trembles through Ashton’s neck and shoulders, but what’s so remarkable is that they don’t want it to stop. 

Imogen must notice, because her humming bobs with a light chuckle. But she doesn’t stop the song. She carries into a third verse, this time keeping her nails gliding. 

Ashton would feel teased, except for that glow leaning against their mind again. It still doesn’t push in. Rather, it rests against the doorframe, watching kindly from just outside; a sentinel, careful and attentive. 

This is so, so foreign.

But fuck it feels… good. And that’s a revelation as much as everything else about this interplay. Ashton’s not thinking about the ever-present, spine-deep ache in their body. Not thinking about when the enjoyment might be soured. Just listening to a friend’s gentle music while fingernails dust sparks of static across their skin.

The hummed song dances off its by-now predictable path into a melodic bridge. Imogen’s nails skitter up and down with the notes, out in wider arcs and spirals, tapping and scraping along Ashton’s scarred, calloused skin, and it’s just– fucking hell, it tickles. 

Ashton can’t help the way they hunch even further at that realization. They’re fracturing into laughter before they have any hope of getting a grip on themself.

Imogen’s mental glow warms. It’s okay. It’s okay to sit here and snicker, to crane up one shoulder and then the other in conflicted attempts at protection, to grin and squint and squeeze their fists between their knees and just feel something good for once.

It’s okay.

The tune winds its way back to the notes Ashton now knows by heart, turning reflective and peaceful. Imogen’s humming slows, as do her fingers. She caresses long, gentle lines with the edges of her nails. Ashton’s eyes fall closed, though they still chuckle and shiver through their sighs. 

Maybe this is soothing, after all.

[atopvisenyashill]

the way twitter stans don't get matt smith is playing up the blacks vs greens conflict like most of the actors have been in the recent interviews, like ofc as the person who plays daemon he's gonna say he doesn't like alicent lmao

(also i find it interesting how all of the crazy team green twitter stans had no problem when tgc called jace a dweeb isn't that hate too🤔)

no YEAH and like, obvious caveat it isn't the whole fandom but twitter does incentivise the absolute craziest people to get popular which means some of thee most annoying people to have ever existed in this world are popular in the greater hotd fandom, and what's been consistently frustrating is how many people who are either rhaenicent/girls focused or tg stans who just refuse to acknowledge the absolutely cracked behavior coming from their side. like, all this focus on olivia, basically with the implication that this is an isolated thing like with the hate lena got for playing cersei, but it's not because imo the internet (or at least twitter) has gotten infinitely worse since got finished, so it's not just olivia getting this insane behavior, it's the bulk of the cast! and it's coming from everyone, from the angry book fans, the targ nation delulus, the femslash enjoyers, tb, tg, every subfandom has had some insane and over the line behavior directed towards the cast that loves to default to either "well you're ugly and i hope you die" or just straight up bigotry.

like the amount of people (largely the "toxic yuri enjoyers" or the tb stans, i can whack the people i hang out with!!) going after tom for saying standard actor stuff like "I love my character" or "i feel bad for my character" and saying he's a rape apologist is crazy. people didn't even go after jason momoa for that real dumbshit "i get to rape beautiful women" comment this hard! is he supposed to not try to understand the character he's playing?? are people who play villains or antagonists just never allowed to feel sympathy for their characters? that's crazy, that's insane, but especially in a series where a) there are SO MANY villain protagonists and b) this series is known for exploring why bad people turn into bad people and why good people do bad things and what even a "bad person" or a "good person" looks like, so why are we mad that the cast plays into this??

and YEAH tbh like you say, i think there's a lot of in this case tg stans specifically who get so fucking angry whenever Matt Smith plays along with the "all must choose" angle but it's like - yeah of course he does, he's not the only one doing this, he clearly thinks it's fun to joke about how he's gonna decimate ewan mitchell, and i think a lot of his bts stuff throughout his career has gone from the two extremes of "having something amazing to say" and "being completely and totally unserious" because this is a job he does, and he likes to get goofy with it. it's fine!!! but no, apparently, it's such a crime to simply exist and like that he's playing this fun character with a goofy wig and a cool aesthetic that we've gotta dogpile every post about him calling him ugly!! but when The People We Hate In Fandom do something vile like call olivia a cunt to her face, that's the true evil! and when People We Are Friends With start saying really weird shit about fabien being ~violent~ we just look the other way even tho that feels just a lil racist!!!

it's more frustrating because you can't even say this is a fandom that skews young like a shitty teen show or a cartoon - this is a grown up show for adults, this is prestige tv, this is a show and a series you actually think "maybe i should wait a few years before i let my middle schooler dig into that one" but the fandom is SO INSANE. WE ARE ALL ADULTS WHY ARE WE ACTING SO JOBLESS. GO PAY YOUR CHILD SUPPORT. DO SOME YOGA SO YOUR BACK DOESN'T SEIZE UP BEFORE 40. TOUCH GRASS!!