#got depressed over this scene so i drew it

[zaisamoo]

"within her first few months of life, she was a acting as a partisan."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN. SHES 3 MONTHS OLD GOING TO WAR?????? WAR!!!!!!!!!! ASAGIRI DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he possibly tell you how he feels when you’re leaving him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,505

Warning: Language, suggestiveness, mentions of sex, mentions of death, depression, insomina

A/N: BestFriend!Suguru series is now our Saturday special!! Let’s goooooo!!! 😈💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Tweleve

Fifteen years ago, you and your family moved to Tokyo from the countryside due to your father’s job. You were so nervous, walking into your kindergarten class and holding your bag as your homeroom teacher introduced you to your new classmates. Everyone stared at you as you were ushered towards a table with two boys. One stuck his tongue out at you while the other colored with crayons.

“Oooh.” You said in awe, looking at the picture the dark-haired boy was coloring. “That’s pretty! Did you draw that?”

The crayon stopped moving as the dark-haired boy looked up at you for the first time. His dark eyes widened as he looked you over, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. “I uhm,” his eyes darted back towards the paper, “yeah, I drew it.” You leaned in, your eyes sparkling in awe, as your classmate sucked in a deep breath as you got closer.

“So pretty!”

Swallowing hard, the boy continued coloring. “I-If you want it, you can have it when I’m done.” His voice is so timid that you almost don’t hear it.

“Eh?! Really!?” You smile, revealing a missing tooth. “Thank you—uhm, what’s your name?”

“G-Geto.”

“Thank you, Geto!”

“You’re welcome.”

That day marked the beginning of your friendship with Geto Suguru! You two have been inseparable ever since that day. You were having play dates and attending the same middle school, high school, and college! You even lived in the same apartment complex, just two floors separating you.

Suguru never once gave up on his passion for drawing, trading his crayons and construction paper for oil paint and canvas. You didn’t have an artistic bone in your body. You did, however, have a way with words. You were constantly losing yourself in characters you'd create and worlds you built, and you never thought of sharing them with the world until Suguru pushed you to do so.

You took his advice and submitted your novel to several writing competitions, not expecting anything to come from it. Boy, were you shocked when you won first place and were allowed to publish your novel! The publishing company loved the story, your characters, and the premise of it, so much so that they signed you on for a whole saga.

That was great! Your characters would finally be given the chance to shine. Their stories would be told! There was just one issue that you kept running into while working on the sequel. Your high-end fantasy novel was a romance between the princess of your series and her knight. You ended the first book with a very intimate kiss and confession. The whole purpose was to have readers wanting more, and they wanted more.

Your reader wanted more Ilaus and Oaklynn, more kisses, sweet whispers of nothing, and steamy smut. The readers wanted to see the lovely, innocent princess and her hot knight getting freaky. Which you were all down for! You wanted them to get to that point as much as your readers! You wanted Oaklynn to be face down getting plowed by Ilaus more than anyone else! You had written their story and made them suffer; they deserved to be happy with each other.

So why was writing sex scenes your kryptonite?!

You anxiously watched Nanami Kento, your beta reader and editor, scroll through your phone and read the latest pages you had written. His face was stoic, unreadable as his eyes glimpsed over the screen. Your leg bounced as he put your phone down, his eyes focusing on his mug before he sighed.

“Oh my god, you hate it.” Anxiety settled in your gut. “It’s terrible! I knew it sucked.”

Nanami winced, his eyes not meeting yours, and he brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. “Why did you call his penis ‘his raging meat stick’? Like it was a slab of salami?” Your friend watched you slam your head gently against the table. “And for her, you called it her fairy cave?” This time, your friend didn't wince; no, the bastard chuckled.

“This isn't funny, Nanami!”

“I know,” he took another sip, “look, it's not bad; I just think if you're going to write a sex scene, you need to refer to the genitals as genitals and not lunch meat and damp mystical caves.”

“L-Like use the word penis?”

“Or cock, dick, not meat stick.”

“Shh!!” you reached over the table, covering his mouth with your hands. “We're out in public!!”

Nanami pulled back away from your hands. “Oh please, we know Gojo and Sukuna. They are more foul than that.” He had a point; the two could make grandmothers cry with their colorful vocabulary.

The first half of your novel was easy to write—lots of action, passionate kisses, and dialogue. The middle had hit you with a brick of writer's block. This was your first time writing anything remotely spicy other than making out with tongue. The scene you were stuck on right now wasn’t even a full-on sex scene! That made it so much worse! They were pleasing each other in a tent with just their hands! It's a simple mutual masturbation scene.

But using a meat stick and a fairy cave would not cut it. And the next couple of chapters were due to your agent in a week. If Nanami pretty much flat-out told you these scenes sucked, there was no way in hell you would be turning this in to your agent.

“Fuck, Nanami, what am I going to do?”

“Scrape it and rewrite it.” Feeling your gaze on his, Nanami breathed out a breathy huff. “Look, it's not terrible, trust me; I know you're capable of more.” Your trusted friend chuckled as you puffed out your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, scrape it; maybe I'll use a hot dog instead of a meat stick this time.” What were you going to do?! There was a week to turn the poorly excused terrible smut you'd written into something that would please Nanami, your agent, and the publisher.

Nanami patted your shoulder as he collected his stuff. “You know, sometimes our own experiences can help.” Great, now you were frustrated and a blushing mess!

“I-I can't do that!”

“Well, then read some erotic novels for inspiration if you have any questions if you don't want to use your personal sexual experiences.”

“That’s not what I me—”

“Look, let's meet on Tuesday for lunch, and you can show me what you have then. I gotta run to class; I’ll see you then.”

With a heavy heart, you watched your friend rush out of the café and return to Campus. Nanami was full of good ideas. Using one's own experiences was a good muse. It was something you would do if you had any experience. The number one reason you had so many issues writing smut seems like this was because you were a complete and total virgin.

That was the sole reason why writing sex scenes was your kryptonite. Because you had zero experience, writing about something you had no experience in was hard. So Nanami’s advice, while appreciated, was utterly useless. You had no experience, and there was no way you were hooking up with some random person to inspire you.

Oh well, you had a lovely long week to try and fix the monstrosity you had created. It wasn't like your agent would call you out of the blue! Yeah, you had a week! A week! It was all good!

A bag slammed on the table as you packed your laptop and notepad. With a squeak and a jump, you turned to see your agent staring down at you—a look of dismay and stress plastered over her face.

“U-Utahime?” Her expression remained the same as she adjusted her baseball hat. “H-Hi, what's up?”

“Meat stick?”

“Fuuuck.” you cried out, throwing your head back.

“I come in to give you good news, and I hear that Nanami is saying you're struggling with the sex scenes?” She sips her coffee anxiously, her foot tapping against the tile floor. “You told me it was a romance? And you can't write sex scenes?!”

You hushed her, standing up and putting your index finger against your lips. “Shut up! Please! I'm working on it; I'm just struggling!” Utahime laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'll fix it! I promise you’ll have a super spicy mutual touching session by next week!” she gives you a skeptical look, one you're pretty sure was on your face as well. “B-But what good news do you have?” Your agent and friend relaxes as she grins.

“You know that cottage that you saw online? The one in Europe that inspired your book?”

“The one that I can't find? Yeah, I know it.”

When you graduated high school, you and Suguru had stopped at a bookstore while shopping for supplies. You were grazing through pictures of European castles when you saw this darling little cottage. It looked similar to the cottage in Sleeping Beauty. It was made of stone in the woods beside a river where a water mill ran.

The cottage was gorgeous; it got your creative juices flowing. You imagined characters living there, and it was honestly the inspiration for your book. You desperately searched for it. Wanting to learn more about the cottage that had inspired your fantasy world, you couldn't find a lick of evidence. You had been under the assumption that it was either destroyed or didn't even exist. So you had given up on finding it two years ago.

“Well, your lovely agent made a few calls and sent out some photos, and she found it.”

“Shut up bitch.” Utahime just smirked, pulling out her phone. “Oh my god, oh god! Are you serious?!” Her phone slid across the table, the screen illuminated by the cottage that inspired your novel. “Ahh! Oh my god!”

“I also got in touch with the owners of the cottage. And when I told them a best-selling novelist was in love with their cottage, which they just so happen to rent out, they offered for you to stay there.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Maybe staying here will get your creativity flowing! Help you with the next few novels.”

Your body was vibrating in excitement. “Oh my god, yes! A week here would be great!” A low ‘uhm’ from across from you drew your attention from the phone to your agent. “Or a weekend?” she shook her head.

“They offered it to you for longer than that.”

“Seriously? How long are we talking?”

Utahime’s smile was wide and warm. “You’re gonna need a few bags.”

The second you left the coffee shop with a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, you bolted down the street. Your meeting with Utahime went so well! You couldn’t wait to tell Suguru all about it. By the time you reached the apartment complex and his door on the third floor, you were panting.

Glancing at the handle, you luckily didn’t find a tie on it, meaning he didn’t bring home some chick, so it was safe for you to come in if you wanted. He did that for you after you walked in on him eating some bimbo out on the kitchen counter. Knowing it was safe, you unlocked the door with your spare key and headed inside.

The smell of paint was strong, meaning Suguru was in the zone and probably had been for hours. Meaning he hadn’t eaten. He was so lucky to have you as his best friend in the whole world, or the man would have starved.

“Suguru~!” Stepping through the apartment, you followed the sound of alternative music toward the spare room, which he’d turned into his makeshift studio. Stepping inside, you didn't find him, but his easel had a new canvas.

Quickly rushing forward, you stared at it, and your heart sank. Suguru had sketched out an aquarium, the base colors down, and a girl stood in front of the tank. The colors hadn’t been placed on her, but you knew who she was from the ruffled sun dress she wore to the braid that cascaded down her back.

“Riko.” Her name tore at your heart as you reached out to touch the sketch of the girl who had been taken far too soon.

Before you could touch the canvas, a creaking floorboard had you pulling away, rushing far for the easel. Your best friend walked in, a fresh mug of water in his hand, while he scrolled through his phone in the other.

God, how he had changed in the fifteen years you’d been together. His hair was longer, pulled in a bun; his bangs hung in his face. Suguru’s left arm was inked with a dragon; it swirled around the head of it tattooed on his shoulder. His lip was pierced along with the cartridge of his ears, and he was wearing his black gauges. That boy you met in class was now a man who was shirtless and covered in paint.

Suguru finally looked up; seeing you standing there startled him, causing him to spill water on the floor. “Fuckin’ hell!” He yelled, putting the mug down to grab the edge of his tables covered with tubes of paint. “You little fuckin’ shit.” His words held no heat as you placed his food and coffee down.

“Oh please, you’d starve without me. I tried calling you when I came in.”

“I was in the kitchen.”

“No, you weren’t.” You sat on the table inches from where Suguru stood. “I walked through there; you sneaking a girl down the fire escape? Not wanting me to catch you doing something indecent again?”

There was always a playful, teasing tone between the two of you. Especially now that you were older and he was a man whore. His dark eyes narrowed as he grinned, slotting between your legs as he sipped coffee.

His eyes trailed over you. “Why would you be jealous if I was?” You shook your head as he pushed your hair back. “Damn, I was just talking to Satoru.” Suguru rolled his eyes as you whistled. “You would like.” He ruffled the top of your head.

“Nah~ I’ve seen you go down on a girl.” He opened his mouth again. “And no, I’m not jealous; I just don’t wanna see you going at it.”

“Yeah, he said we’re all going out tonight; something about that sushi train place.” He pulled out the sandwich you brought him, taking a bite. “Said we had to celebrate.”

“Oh, we do.” Suguru swallowed the mouthful of food. “Because I got some great news today.”

“Really? Did Nanami like your new pages?” He stepped away, grabbing the mug of clean water as he stepped back in front of the canvas.

“Well, no, but that’s a whole other situation.” The excitement buzzing in your chest could no longer be held in. “Utahime found the cottage!”

Suguru perked up, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “Shut the fuck up, she did, where?!” He’d helped you search for your inspiration for hours; he knew how badly you wanted to go there.

“It’s in a wooded area in England. Super pretty! The owners have read my book and offered to let me stay there!”

“Well, that’s gre—”

“For the next two years!!”

Glass shattered, leaving both you and Suguru in stunned silence. Your best friend was pale, the color leaving his cheeks. His eyes were distant as you looked down, seeing the water spreading over the floorboard, sliding under Suguru’s bare feet.

You were the first to move, not to pick up the glass but to grab Suguru’s face gently. He was as still as a rock; he only got like that when he had flashbacks to that night. Seeing that he was painting Riko must have meant he was stuck in that moment from your second year of high school.

He shut his eyes tight, leaning into your touch, cluing you in. It wasn’t a flashback. He took a deep breath before lifting you, putting you off to the side, away from the glass. Something wasn’t right with Suguru; you knew it from his lingering touch and the lack of light in his eyes.

“What time did you get up?” You asked as you bent down, helping him pick up shards of glass.

“Are you going to leave?”

“I asked you a question first. What time did you get up?”

“Three this morning. Are you leaving?”

Peering up, you found his eyes focused solely on you. “I’m uhm—I’m waiting for Utahime to contact the owners.” He gritted his teeth, his eyes returning to the glass on the floor. “It’s not set in stone yet, Suguru.” You gently nudged his hand with yours; those words had him relaxing a bit, like relief was washing over him. “Why were you up at three?” He stood up, tossing the broken glass in the trash.

“Nightmares.”

“About Riko?”

Riko Amanai was a person Suguru didn’t like talking about. He went to therapy for what happened, but her death left a mark on him that probably would never heal. He had his good months and his bad months. Between the canvas and the nightmares, you knew he was going to have a hard time this month.

You didn’t push him; you hated to pry that part of his life. That didn’t mean you weren’t there for him, though. If he wanted to talk to you, your door was always open. There had been many nights when he would show up and ask to stay in bed with you. Those were the nights when nightmares were too much to handle when he had too much on his mind. Those were the nights you both stayed up, talking about life, your novel, or his work. They were also the nights you both fell asleep in each other‘s arms and got some of the best sleep of your lives.

“Suguru—?”

“I’m going to grab the broom. Just stay here.” Suguru grabs a white sheet and covers his newest canvas up before heading out of his room towards the kitchen.

Great, you just had to go prying into his trauma. What the hell is wrong with you? He would’ve talked about it with you if he wanted to talk about it. It was wrong to dig into what was happening in his mind. You worried so much about him, and sometimes you forgot you had no right to question him.

Despite your prying and prodding questions, Suguru was still warm to you. He wrapped an arm around you and plopped down on the couch with you while he finished eating breakfast and drinking coffee. He showed you some of the paints he wanted to get the next time he dragged you to the art store. Suguru acted like everything was normal when you both knew it wasn’t.

He was masking; he often did when he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his mind. Or when he didn’t want to worry you. You could easily see through his façade, but you weren’t about to ruin the rest of his day with your questions. You lay there on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his paints and the commissions that he had received.

The mundane conversations lasted until four o’clock. The two of you freshened up before heading downtown to meet your other friends for your not-so-celebratory dinner. Satoru had invited almost everyone you knew. Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Haibara, and Yuki cheered when you two entered.

You were pulled towards the bar by Shoko and Yuki, who squealed over how lucky you were to have found your cottage. Suguru snatched a beer from the bucket on the table, chugging it as he sat beside Satoru. The white-haired man hissed out a sigh, his arm wrapping over Suguru’s shoulder as the two watched you closely.

“I can’t believe they offered her to stay there for two years.” Satoru purred out. “Like fuck, it’ll be weird not having her here.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

Satoru pulled his dark sunglasses off, glaring at his best friend. “Who pissed in your cereal?” He paused, pursing his lips together. “Oh right, the girl you love is leaving you. I have an idea; tell her how you feel!” A handful of gyoza is shoved into Satoru’s mouth.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Nanami glanced at the two before him, gulping down his beer. “If I tell her, it’ll be like I’m holding her back. I can’t do that.” As he steals another glance at you, confusion, doubt, and anxiety settle in Suguru’s stomach. “If she wants to go, she can go.”

Thankfully, after his little rant, the conversation drifted from you and focused on school. The whole night, no one brought up the cottage, nor you leaving yet. As you assure them, nothing is set in stone yet, but finding out where your inspiration was was enough to drink to.

The happiness that seemed to radiate off you made Suguru feel bittersweet over the whole situation. He was happy for you. He knew how much finding that cottage. He spent his free time looking into it for you. But he could never find anything. He desperately didn’t want to go either. You were his best friend. You had been for fifteen years, and he was utterly in love with you, but he didn’t want to cross that line.

Now that there was a possibility that you would be leaving, he regretted all the chances he had to cross that line, and he never took it. That’s why he slept with so many girls who shared attributes similar to yours. Some of them had your eyes, others had your hair color, and there were just some of them that looked similar to you. It was a way to cope with being unable to tell you how he felt. But at least he didn’t ruin your friendship.

Between the lack of sleep and the new fear of losing you, Suguru needed something more potent than beer. He shimmed over to the bar, ruffling your hair as he passed you. As he leaned over the bar, waiting for his drink, Nanami squeezed in next to him.

“I think I know why she might be leaving.”

“Huh?” Suguru’s pierced brow lifted in confusion. “Why would there be a reason for her to leave? She’s always wanted to go to that cottage.”

“She offered to stay there to help with her writing. I may have called Utahime and given her a heads up about the pages I read today.” Nanami sipped his drink. “We both agreed that change of scenery might help with her writing.”

“The fuck do you mean?” A twinge of anger flashed over Suguru’s face. “Her writing is the best. There’s nothing for her to work on. She got published, for God's sake.”

Nanami chuckled nervously. “There’s no doubt that she’s a talented writer. While her dialogue and kissing scenes and her world-building are superior to other authors, I’ve read for. Her romance scenes are atrocious.” When Nanami saw the look of bewilderment on Suguru’s face, he nodded. “By romance, I mean sex scenes.”

“Well, she’s never had a boyfriend; I don’t think she’s even kissed someone.” Nanami makes a humming sound of understanding as a revelation overcomes Suguru. “Do you think if her sex scenes get better, she might now want to leave for as long as she said?”

“Maybe. But it’ll take a miracle for her sex scenes to improve.”

A miracle that Suguru was willing to provide. If he could help you, maybe, just maybe, you might consider staying if you’re given a chance to leave. And if he’s lucky, perhaps he would finally find the strength to tell you how he felt. Downing his drink, he rushed back to the table, grabbing your hand.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Your eyes glitter, making Suguru’s heart thunder. “Sure!” He drags you through the crowded restaurant, pulling you outside towards the alley. “What’s up?” God, you look so pretty with flushed cheeks.

“Nanami told me about the sex scenes”

“That traitor!” You pout, tilting your head back with a grumble. “Fine, go ahead and make fun of my usage of deli meat for describing genitalia.” The teasing never comes. Instead, Suguru's musky, earthy smell crowds you as he slams his hands on either side of your head. “S-Sugu?”

“I have a proposition.” His voice purrs out, making your heart race spike. “You’re struggling with the sex scenes. That’s why you’re thinking of leaving, right?”

“Y-yeah, and?”

“What if I help you? If your sex scenes get better, do you think you might not need to leave for two years?”

Heat begins to fill the tiny space between your bodies. You feel your exhaled air mingling with the others. Fuck was it the alcohol?

“I-I mean, maybe I wouldn’t need to leave for so long. Maybe just a week.” There’s a gleam in your best friend's eyes. “But how are you going to help me?” His mouth inches closer, and you can feel the heat as he leaves an inch away from your lips.

“I can teach you.”

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[fictionadventurer]

Figured if I was going to go on the Snow White rant, I needed to actually rewatch the Disney movie.

The opening credits are much more interesting when you know some of the names. The only women who got on the list were Dorothy and Hazel, but it was nice to see their names at least and know who they were.

That book is gorgeous. All the details of the calligraphy and illustrations and binding.

Wow, the Queen is so much creepier than I remember. The fact that using the magic mirror involves summoning a "slave" trapped in the mirror? Don't like that.

That peacock behind her throne, though? Stunning, fantastic, no notes.

I kind of love how the Queen forces Snow White to be a maid, and Snow White just...doesn't care at all. She's just scrubbing a floor and totally fine. Queen's obsessed with Snow White every minute of the day and Snow White doesn't think about her at all.

Sorry, I don't buy the romance at all. I know it's a fairy tale, but one song does not a life-changing romance make. (There was a version of the scene where the prince was going to rejoice over the fact that she loved him, which might have been too much, but it at least would have helped sell it.)

The scene of Snow running through the forest and then collapsing in tears did make me feel for her.

It seems like Snow White and the Queen are from a completely different movie from the dwarfs. They've got this whole high fantasy feud going on, meanwhile these guys are living in a sitcom.

The dwarfs were the best part. Forgot how cute those guys could be.

There was not enough story here. 75% of the running time is them trying to stretch this paper-thin story to feature length. There's a big long cleaning sequence. A big long sequence of the dwarfs figuring out who invaded their cottage. A big long introduction sequence. A big long washing-up sequence. Multiple extended gags involving a fly. All fun to animate, I'm sure, but not at all up to modern pacing standards.

(I'd kind of like to compare this to other escapist '30s musicals--is this kind of structure common for movies where the point is just to show up and escape the Depression for 90 minutes?)

As a kid, I had one of those sing-a-long videos with a bunch of Disney songs, and I did not realize that I had a deep emotional connection to it until "Heigh-Ho" made me instantly happy and the Silly Song unearthed memories I didn't even know I had.

A lot of the other songs kind of stink, ngl. There's a reason the washing-up song is not in the public consciousness.

Kind of out-of-line for Snow White to just show up at their house and treat them like misbehaving children.

The skeleton in the dungeon reaching for the water pitcher? Can't believe the movie went there.

(Then they drew too much attention to it and kind of wrecked it. But wow.)

I like that they give a valid reason that the Queen thought True Love's Kiss wasn't going to be a problem.

But the queen cackling over the fact that Snow White's going to be buried alive? When it comes to showing this movie to children, I'm not hesitating about Snow White as a female role model, I'm hesitating because it's dark.

(But also--why not just poison her? I get that living death/buried alive is a worse fate than just plain death, but if she's not actually dead, how does the Queen count as fairest in the land? Especially since she magically made herself as ugly as possible?)

They carved her name in the coffin! Just like the bed! They finally get to make her a bed and it's to lay her to rest! It's almost enough to make me tear up.

The castle in the clouds makes me think of heaven/resurrection imagery, which ties in interestingly to my take on it.

There is so much potential to flesh out this story in a live-action version. Since you can't fill up the runtime with comedy dwarf antics, there's so much space to flesh out the relationship between the prince and Snow White, and give texture to the feud between the Queen and Snow White, and to dig deep into Snow's sweet character and how it affects the dwarfs, which is why it stinks that they're going for just another Not Like Other Girls update.

[babyxbluexmoon]

☁︎ tsu'tey's daughter ☁︎

Neteyam x Daughter Tsu'tey! Reader!

Warnings: Light angst. Depressed reader. Abusive/toxic mother. Not proof read.

synopsis : After Tsu'Tey's death, you were raised alone by your mother, Rhi'all. Best female hunter of the clan. However, best the daughter of quite a high ranking, meant expectations that you weren't seemingly born for, and that was what actually drew Neteyam to you. Your passion for healing, armoured off by the preassure of being a warrior.

Today was like any other day.

You had an argument with your mother to start off your 'lovely' day. Next off, you flew on your Ikran, scoping out sky people, marking where theywere on a piece of -what the lab people call- paper. She let out a breath, and after her morning chore, she headed back to the omaticaya clan base hidden in the moutains to keep away from the demons. Her and her purple and blue Ikran pulled up and she kissed his snout before making her way over to the Sully family, more pacificly, Toruk Makto, Jake Sully, the Olo'eyktan.

"Y/n." He said, smiling as the girl walked over. She was slim and blue, with adnormally short black hair. But some reason your hair mever grew passed your shoulders, so you just tried to own it. And for your eyes, that matched Tsu'Tey's to a T. That's probably why Neytiri amd Jake Sully were so protective of you. "Hello mr and mrs. Sully." She greeted, her voice actually quite motherly. "I have the wereabouts." She said, handing them the paper which Jake took and scanned his eyes over. "Well done, Little one." Neytiri petted your hair, and Y/n left.

She went back to her Ikran, pnly to hear a squeal of fear. She grabbed her weapons and bolted towards it, into the trees where she saw the Sully's youngest, Tuktiery with an angry Thanator approching her. Y/n jumped infront of her and hissed at the beast, which roared back at her. Y/n got herself ready, gripping the blade in her four fingered palm, standing infront of Tuk who stared at her bewildered and frightened.

The thanator went for her and she roared and went back, using her skills. As she fought it off, protecting Tuktiery, Neteyam and Lo'ak arrivied, staring at the scene with wide orbs. "That's Y/n! Her father was the great Tsu'Tey!" Lo'ak whispered to Neteyam, "Who fought beside dad!". "I know.." Neteyam replied, seeing her, her arm sliced and soon she was slammed to the floor, and Neteyam lifted his bow'n arrows, shooting at the beast that roared out in pain, then growled at him.

As the Thanator was distracted with Lo'ak and Neteyam, Y/n lunged forward and stabbed her blade straight into its nap, regretting it instantly, but it was that or possibly four deaths, inculding a child under the age of ten. She couldn't let that happen. "Your time on pandora was served well brother, now you may walk alongside Eywa." she endee his life quickly, speaking her words in Na'vi before dashing over to Tuk, checking her.

"Are you alright? How's your body? Any scratches or bites? Anything?" Y/n asked and Neteyam smiled softly. There was his Y/n. They grew up aschild hood best friends, being only two months apart in age, Neteyam being older. He loved the real Y/n. Sensetive, gentle, fragile. Not this.. warrior machine her mother forced her to play. God, they used to be so close until her mother drove them apart. Speaking of her mother...

"Y/n!". An angered filled voice yelled and Y/n whipped her head around, neeting the eyes of her mother, Rhi'all. She gulped before speaking. "Mother, what os the matter?" She asked and the female omaticaya snarled. "Is this where you have been, slacking off, and infront of the Olo'eyktan children of all." Could herm other not see the blood staining her body, or the dead thanator behid her? "N-no mother.. I fought the thanator to save Tukt-". "I do not want to hear your nonsense! Home, now."

Y/n gave the siblings a dry wave, but before her hand could completely fall, it was grasped in the palm of Neteyam, who glared at her mother with inflamed golden orbs. "She saved my younger sister from a thanator, show her some respect." He spoke sternly, and the shock of everyones faces was definetly readable. "Excuse me, boy?" She asked, but it was then that Jake arrived. "I saw everything." He said, and went over to Y/n. "Thank you..".

He then turned to Rhi'all, "She fought the Thanator bravely. Rhis girl needs rest." He spoke and her mother only replied with taking her daughters hand and ripping her from Neteyam, dragging her away. She glanced back at her old friend and gave a gently wave with her free hand, which made him wave back, then look down, feeling defeated once again by that wicked na'vi. "We should set mommy on her." Tuk huffed and Jake chuckled, picking her up. "Or your grandmother.".

Y/n stood in the training area, panting as her mother kept throwing diffrent challenges at her, each harder than the last, by god she was exhausted. Her body, her small, gentle hands, her kind expression.. she wasn't meant to be this sort of na'vi. She wpuld make the perfect healer, but ever since the death of her great father, she was cursed to live up to him, a curse set by her mother.

"Mother, I can not do anymore.. please, let us sit..?" She asked, leaning down to place her hands on her knees, exhausted. Little did she knew, a pair of eyes were watching, golden and sharp. "No, you Train!" She yelled but Y/n had, had enough. "No! My body is on fire, mother! I just need ten minutes to regain myself!" She barked and suddenly felt a stinging pain on her cheek. Rhi'all had slapped her.

"You are disapointment to your father!" She screeched and Y/n felt like her heart had been pierced. "You nothing like hi-". "And I never will be! I'm me, mother! I will never be anything more! So just... grow up and deal with it! Your like a baby!" Y/n yelled back and her mother hissed at her, but just before Y/n could hiss back, a deeper hiss arrupted. She turned and saw Neteyam, and his family behind him. "Never, lay a hand, on her.." he snarled and Y/n stared slightly wide eyed.

It was then Neytiri approched and went right up to her, staring her down with an evil look. "She does not dissapoint Tsu'tey.. you do." She said,theb turned to Y/n and placed a hand on her head. "Come, we are going to redo some beads as they are dirtying. Join." She offered and Y/n gulped, was she really about to walk away from her mother. Seems that choice was taken when Tuk grabbed her hand, "lets put beads in your hair!" She giggled and began to drag her, making her squeak in surprise.

Neteyam smiled softly and followed after, but got stopped by his father who looked down at him. "You should tell her today, son. Only then, can we protect her." He said and Neteyam nodded, "yes sir." When they arrived bacl at the Sully's hut, she allowed Tuk to sit her down and do her short hair. Kiri helped the youngest aswell, smirking at Neteyam as her hair was beaded nicely, with a bit of help from Neytiri.

Neteyam couldn't help but stare. He'd never seen Y/n look.. girlish and pretty. He swallowed, then stood up and cleared his throat. "I wish to take Y/n somewhere." No more needed to be said, everyone nodded and he held his hand out to the girl who was confused, but nodded and walked away with him. "Where we going, Neteyam?" She asked and he chuckled, "you'll see. Come on!" He took her away from the moutain hide out and climbed down to the forest below. "Are we allowed here?" She asked and he nodded, "With me, you are.".

They came to the forest, and she remembered how her fathers life was taken here by the sky people, and how Jake Sully ended his pain by finishing him. "Why are we here, Neteyam..?" She asked, and he slipped his hand into hers. "You'll see.." he pulled her along, going over a large log where the trees never parted, making it ahole lot darker even in the evening. She followed, holding his hand, her heart fluttering from the contact. She knew her feelings for him since childhood hadn't faded, she had just pushed them down as the years went on.

"Over here!" He said and took her to.. "The tree of Voices?" She asked, staring amamzing as their blye skin slightly illumated pink. Spinning frogs with almpst mushroom like heads went around them and Neteyam couldn't help but remember his mother describing it. Now he knew why she loved this memory. "Wow.. this is amazing Neteyam. But why are we here?" She asked, holding her arms out as they walked, letting the pink vines hit her scarred skin and wave over her.

"My father told me a story.." he started. "He said that, if you were to..confess your love for someone here.. Eywa would guide you down the right path.." he swallowed and Y/n's eyes widened slightly, and he turned away slightly, making her tilt her head. "If you do not accept my feelings.. I understand. We aren't as close as we used to be.." he said gently, but then heard Y/n giggle and turned back to her.

"Neteyam.." she said gently, then sighed and grabbed his hand, making him fully turn to face him. "I see you.." she said and his ears twitched. If his face didn't give away his reactipn,his tail certainly did, swaying quickly as if he would take off in flight. "I-I see you.. Y/n..". With that, she slowly moved her hand, cupping his cheek lovingly and he leant into her touch, then slowly placed his hands on her waist and pulled her body closer to his.

"Oh and um.. your father, would never be disapointed in you.. Y/n.." he said, flustered and she giggled. "Kiss me, Neteyam." He placed his lips on hers and she felt fireworks go off in her heart, and butterflies in her stomach. A sicky feeling bit she knew that was a good thing. As they kissed, Neteyam reached back and took his braid in his hand, bringing it over his shoulder and she did the same. They pulled away slightly, inches away and slowly, staring into eachothers eyes, they connected.

A small sigh excaped their lips, and Neteyam hugged her closely. "I promise to protect you from now on.." he whispered. He knew they weren't fully mated yet, but he knew neither of them were ready to.. do that- but this was enough. "My love..". He said gently and she sighed, melting into him. "I know you will... ma'neteyam..".

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, I)

Master List

Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrds winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s. (Alternatively titled 'We All Hate Roderick Burgess')

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, child left to travel solo, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

A/N: Your bird just got diagnosed with a life changing chronic condition (in addition to being put back on depression meds). We'll see how this post does. Have four chapters planned. The last scene is based on personal experiences with heat exhaustion/borderline heat stroke.

Dream’s tools brought many things to Fawney Rig. Wealth and prestige. Admiration, gifts, and influence. Nearly everything the magus wanted and only a fraction of what he thought he deserved. Roderick’s dreams of power and riches drew another tool to his hand, or perhaps Destiny drew the magus to her. The girl who saw strange things in the dark and found answers to strange riddles in her cards. But her wyrd would always draw her to old house and its shrouded dungeon, in any world or time. All because of what the Burgesses kept there.

In the eight years since the fateful evening he summoned and caught one of the Endless, Roderick had become a man much desired. He found himself with an invitation to Lord and Lady Werthrope’s party, a guest of honor at a soiree at their country estate. They promised a night of occult mysteries and foreign prizes. Bits of people and places from across the empire and beyond. Mummies from Egypt and fragments of Greek antiquities to gasp and shriek over with glasses of champagne and brandy.

Roderick carried himself as Lord Werthrope’s equal, and at least for that night, surrounded by ancient mysteries of all kinds, he was seen as such. He was an expert, a guide, someone to hold in reverence rather than an oddity to gawk over. He told them with his bearing, his dignity, and the ruby he wore on a golden chain around his neck. His wishes became dreams and so became real. He stood like a stronger god beside the broken figure of Apollo and scoffed at the mistranslations of texts he’d only ever read secondhand.

Beside the wonders kept under guard at home, what were these paltry things? He could have any of them he desired, and he’d already claimed better.

His sense of superiority carried him through the party’s early hours, moving from acrobats in elaborate costumes, to fire eaters, to ghost stories and flights of fancy spun by swindlers far below his consideration. He had an answer or alternative for everything. And then he met the girl.

She sat at a bare table with no long cloth to hide rolling ankles, clever fishing lines, or knocking accomplices. Only a candle and a deck of cards separated her from the guests, and she’d drawn quite a queue. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, swinging idly between the legs of the chair as she read the cards of a distraught-looking dandy.

Taking his arm, Lady Werthrope said, “This one you really must see, Magus. She’s made quite the splash in New York and London.”

The Magus offered a tolerant smile. “And what is the trick? Does she blow out the candle? Bend spoons?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” The lady practically vibrated, eager to impress as she led them to the table, scattering the line. “She sees things, and she reads fortunes like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had more than a few pet psychics in my time. This one’s a bit of a sad story.”

The magus clenched his jaw until the muscle in his cheek twitched. He could make whatever sob story the girl shilled much worse. Of all the frauds and liars who feigned knowledge of the occult, Roderick Burgess hated mediums and ghost whisperers the most. The tantalizing promise of connection with Randal – always waved in his face, always ultimately denied – it clawed open the rotting wound in his heart, and he let the poison drip back on any fools who tried his patience.

Let this one try to pull the wool over his eyes, and he’d unmask her in front of this glittering audience. She’d be a penniless sad story when he was through.

“Those people,” the lady said, nodding to a couple flanking the child, “are just the adoptive parents. Saw her family murdered, poor thing. They say that’s what cracked her open to the other world.”

“Do they indeed.” He kept his smile, showing his teeth as his grip flexed over the cane in his free hand. “Then I look forward to her performance.”

The Magus and the lady sat across from the faux family, and the girl looked at them. The people who weren’t her parents did not manage her well, Burgess couldn’t help noting. They’d painted her up with rogue and kohl that made her look even more like a child playing grownup games, and the feather in her headband hung limp and lifeless. She barely managed to grimace through a smile, and she spoke with all the enthusiasm of a student reporting on Ovid to the class.

“What are you asking?” A child’s voice really shouldn’t be so dull. Now that he was nearer, the Magus couldn’t help wondering if she was even younger than he’d first assumed. Not even ten, he thought, and already so exhausted.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. He kept his guard, but curiosity stirred beneath. She was no great performer.

Lady Werthrope leaned forward, eager to take the first reading as the girl shuffled her cards. They were nearly too big for her to manage, but in this at least she clearly had much practice. Her handling of the tarot was the most natural element of her demeanor he’d yet to see.

The lady talked about her dog Moxy, a cocker spaniel much loved and terribly spoiled. It was getting on in years, and, well, ought she prepare for anything dreadful? Only, her friend had just lost her terrier, and she couldn’t chase it from her thoughts…

The cards appeared on the table. One by one. The Six of Cups. The Two of Swords. And, lastly, the Nine of Swords reversed.

“Moxy is well-loved.” The child pointed to the first card. “That’s the foundation. But she’s getting older, and she may go blind eventually. She’s accepted it, though, and you will, too.” She smiled a little, hesitantly, like a pet used to getting kicked when she barked at company. The Magus noted how her gaze flicked to her pseudo-father.

Lady Werthrope clucked and reached over to squeeze the child’s hand. “You’re very honest. And very sweet. Now, won’t you show the Magus what you can do?”

Obediently, she gathered the cards and folded the deck, shuffling them with the fresh energy of her next customer. “What do you want to know?”

Roderick considered. It was a little below him to ask anything specific of a child spiritualist, and he still meant to test her. Hate stirred the old thorn in his heart, and although she didn’t speak with ghosts to earn her bread, he didn’t need to justify himself.

“I’ll leave the question to you.” He squinted in a way that may seem affectionate, but it was only sharp, a predator focusing on little fawn to see how quickly it might run. “What do you see?”

She flinched, lifting her eyes from the cards to meet his in a fleeting, startled glance. Like he’d come near to guessing something she didn’t say out loud. But then she bent over the deck, back to her work as the woman behind her set a hand on her shoulder.

“Be good, Aisling,” the adoptive mother said. “Show the Magus your skills. Don’t embarrass us.”

The child rolled her lip between her teeth, sorting the task quickly. One card. Two cards. Three cards. Tap, tap, tap on the bare table. The Magician’s face glowed in the candle light, and Roderick blinked. A good tarot reader must have good luck in order to draw the appropriate cards – or a marked deck. But he’d watched those little hands like a hawk, and he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t definitive proof by any means, but Roderick Burgess knew himself to be cleverer than a child.

Pointing to the first card, the Magician, the girl said, “You’re the Magus. The Magician is your creation of yourself.” The second card was the Nine of Cups. “Your cups all overflow, and you enjoy the plenty you already have.” And then there was the Ace of Pentacles. Roderick wondered for a moment if she’d laid the cards out of the intended order, but she simply said, “There is new wealth coming. You’ve just found something that will bring you more good fortune. The benefits will grow in the months and years to come.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.” He looked for cracks, and there were many. Fatigue clouded her eyes and weighted the end of every sentence. Not a sign of a lie, though. She couldn’t even pretend to be happy for the audience.

He turned the interaction over in his mind through the rest of the night, wearing away the questions and presumptions like the rough edges of a stone, and by the later hours, he thought he might hold a jewel.

The adoptive parents made themselves easy to find. They hadn’t left the table. Neither had the girl. The lord and lady hired them to entertain, and they stayed at their posts. They’d gathered refreshments, but no cup or plate sat on the table, and he wondered if they had any idea children needed things like water after a long night of speaking with strangers.

Really. The scheme was too transparent. The only lies hid in any manner of affection the parents pretended for the child they claimed.

The Magus marched up to the table, rapping the top with his cane to seize the drowsy girl’s attention. She blinked, started licking her dry lips, caught herself, and pinched her mouth closed with her teeth.

“Aisling, wasn’t it?” He nodded to her, encouraging her to echo the motion. “I would like a word with you. No cards. No reading. Just a conversation. Alone.”

The father stepped forward, ready to defend his meal ticket. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t just –”

“The girl and I will sit here, at this table,” he tapped it again to make his point, “and you will both stand over there.” The cane swung to point towards the bar, which was well within sight but well out of earshot.

When the man moved to protest again, Roderick pulled out his wallet, and the father’s mouth snapped shut. A few pounds bought the adults’ willing compliance, and they went off in search of drinks with barely a backwards glance. Roderick settled into the seat he claimed earlier, watching the girl squirm. Her hands fluttered restlessly between her lap and the table, clearly used to the cards, uneasy without the form and ritual of a reading to guide the conversation.

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

He signaled one of the roving staff, and as the waiter approached, he ordered, “A lemonade for the young lady.”

With a bow, the server hurried off, and the Magus smiled, lips closed, tilting his head as his legs crossed under the table. He was not a client. He was an adult who noticed, who might be moved to care, and in the few hours of their acquaintance, he was already offering more than anyone else.

“So, you see things?”

Her eyes snapped from him to the people who managed her. Then back again, and down to her lap.

“I’m not supposed to upset people.” She picked at the fringe on the garish frock she wore – entirely unsuited to her age and clearly uncomfortable. “It upsets Mr. and Mrs. Foster when I see things. Or when I talk about them.”

The Magus nodded, unsurprised. He wondered if the people who adopted her even realized her talents were genuine when they snatched her up. They had too many connections and too much showmanship to be anything other than experienced con artists. This little Aisling must be very sensitive, and the truly sensitive didn’t see strictly good, kind, or encouraging things. How she must terrify the fools.

The server returned with a cut crystal glass rattling with ice. The girl thanked the server, then thanked her benefactor, and wrapped her hands around the condensation-slicked sides. She sipped carefully, and Roderick could see the tension ease from her posture as she drank. Desperate as she was, she didn’t gulp, and with clear regret, she set the drink on the table still two-thirds full. But she kept her hands on the glass, lest some waiter assume she was finished and spirit it away.

“I won’t be upset, and I’d like to believe you.” Angling his head down to peer at her meaningfully, employing a look he’d once used when his son misbehaved, he asked, “What have you seen tonight that would upset people?”

The girl looked around, shifting so her chair creaked. This time, it wasn’t her adoptive parents she feared. Any ears may be a threat. When she leaned in, the Magus copied her, silently assuring her the secret would be safe with him.

“There’s a guest who’s not a guest, and he isn’t a man, either.”

The Magus hummed. “Say I believe you. Could you prove it?”

Seduced into the invitation of an adult confidant, and revived by the lemonade, she rushed to answer. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be believed and heard. The Magus was listening, and he was beginning to believe as well.

“The man paid the footman with holly leaves,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “The footman folded them like bank notes, and the spines stabbed his palms, but he didn’t notice. Look for the one with blood on his gloves.”

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

Shrinking back, the girl shook her head until the headband went crooked. Her hand pressed over her heart, rubbing hard circles as her face creased.

“He’d know I saw him,” she said. “I don’t let them know I see them anymore.”

Now there was a tale and no mistake. A child with enough power to annoy things beyond the veil – one that survived an encounter – was rare indeed.

“What happened?” He lent his tone a shade of concern. Facts, he found, traveled swiftest to a sympathetic ear, and he needed to know everything. Curiosity was growing into practical fervor as the first dreams of a plan grew into place. “Are you ill?”

She crumbled just a little bit more, folding into herself to protect the place she rubbed from some invisible threat. “Sometimes I see things that don’t want to be seen. One of them – hurt me. There’s no scar, but it hurt me, and now it aches.”

The Magus donned a solemn expression, though he felt a thrill at the prospect sitting before him. The little girl had unusual skills, and though she wasn’t handled well by the adults governing her, they must still turn a pretty penny showing her in salons and private homes. He’d confirm what she’d said, of course, validate her little proof, but she was either a better liar than he’d ever met or she was childishly honest. He knew where he’d put his money.

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

He didn’t say goodbye, only nodding as he rose and went in search of the servant with bloody gloves.

Of course, he found him. When he demanded to see what the footman had in his pockets, the boy paled, stammering excuses, only to pull out a handful of forest detritus. As the young man fell into a whirl of confusion and disappointment, the Magus truly smiled. The first real smile since Lady Werthrope brought him to the child’s table.

He must have a proper conversation with the girl’s current guardians.

Aisling clung to her bag, drowning in the heat as the train pulled away from the Wych Cross platform. Men and women fanned themselves with hats and newspapers, desperate for a breeze in the dead summer stillness. Ladies shed their gloves. Men loosened their ties. Propriety mattered less when the air was trying to suffocate them, a crushing, inescapable oven scalding the usually damp countryside.

A miserable day to travel.

Sweat dripped down her back, soaking the neck of her dress, gluing her hair to her skin. But she didn’t have a free hand to stir a breeze. Her bag was too heavy, full of everything she would need in her new home, or at least everything the Fosters thought they couldn’t sell for a profit. Mrs. Foster took her to the train station and dropped her at the door.

“Here’s your ticket. You’re heading to Wych Cross, and then to Fawney Rig. Don’t forget, and don’t miss your train,” she’d said. Then she climbed back into the cab beside Mr. Foster and disappeared into the flow of London traffic.

They’d sold her on to someone else, and now they were free of her.

She peered around the station, but it was really just a platform. In London, there were helpful adults in uniforms and suits who pointed out the right train and the right stairs to reach it. Nothing here told her how to find Fawney Rig, though, and the only adult in a uniform seemed to be the man in the ticket booth.

She’d find her way. She wasn’t a baby after all. She was eight. And she could read very well, and no one was coming to help her, so she better figure it out.

She stood in line for the ticket man’s attention. Surely, he could give her directions. The Magus was rich, and a little famous, she thought, so his neighbors must know where he lived. If the man in the booth didn’t know, she’d keep asking until she found someone who did. While she waited her turn, she set down her suitcase and sat on it, taking deep breaths that tasted like salt. It could be worse. What if it rained instead? Well. Actually. Rain sounded very nice.

Soon enough, she took her place in front of the booth, and the man frowned under his mustache like she’d arrived with a bill or a letter from someone nasty. She smiled prettily, the way the Fosters told her to, and tried to make herself look like less of a problem as she clutched her case again.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but do you know the way to Fawney Rig?”

He physically recoiled, and his frown hooked deeper with glowering doubt as he scanned her. “Fawney Rig? That devil worshiper’s house? Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve been sent to live there, sir. I’m expected, but I don’t think they’ve sent anyone for me.” Manners made things easier with adults. Good manners and clear words – the fewer the better.

But the man wasn’t swayed. He looked thunderous. Like she’d broken something valuable and ought to pay for it with a lashing.

“Do you have money for a cab?”

The Fosters didn’t own her anymore, and they’d given her nothing but cards, and costumes, and a hairbrush. All the cash stayed warm and safe in their pockets.

“No, sir.”

“Then walk down the main road. Go east from the village, and keep going until there are no more houses you can see from the street. There’ll be a path on the left with a big iron gate. Follow that and you’ll find your devil worshipers.” He waved her off like he’d slap her if not for the glass. “Next!”

Manners got her what she needed, at least. “Thank you.”

The other adults all moved aside as she trundled through with her case. It made it easier to avoid clipping ankles and shins with her luggage, but she wondered if they hated her the way the ticket man hated her – because of Fawney Rig – or if she simply smelled after the long, stuffy ride in third class. Not that adults needed an excuse to dislike her. The nice ones called her uncanny and gifted. The mean ones called her a witch, and a bastard devil-spawn, and other names a mother should wash out of their mouths with soap.

She wasn’t sure which ones were telling the truth.

She knew the way forward, though. To Fawney Rig. That was good, even if the other adults didn’t think so. The Magus may not be a nice person, she hadn’t known him long enough for the usual adult lies to wear thin enough to see through, but he was smarter than the Fosters, and he’d given her a lemonade, so maybe she wouldn’t be as hungry or thirsty under his guardianship. She’d still have to work. Adults only wanted her if they thought she could give them something. But everything was more bearable with a good dinner and cold drinks.

She hoped he’d give her another cold drink, even water with some ice, when she reached his home. The train ride left her terribly thirsty.

Leaving the shaded platform, she bowed away from the sun’s violent touch and started on her journey. The village only kept a cobbled road in the center of town. It led up to the train station, linking it to a clutch of shops and offices. A parish church sat a little way back from the road, separated from the secular world by a field of tidy tombstones in heat-bleached grass. People noticed her. They looked. They whispered to each other. But no one waved or offered a hand. Gossip didn’t move fast enough to beat her here from the train, and she wondered how people could tell she was odd. Society had so many rules beyond manners, but no one would tell her what they were, and she never guessed right.

By the time the cobblestones ended, she was struggling to hold onto her suitcase. The handle kept trying to slip from her fingers, even when she held it with both hands, and she had to work harder and harder to keep it out of the dirt. If she knew anything about the world, it was that good children didn’t drag their luggage, and bad things happened to those that did. She’d travelled enough to learn, and she wanted to make a good impression on her new keeper and his household.

The road outside of town went a very, very long way. The ticket seller’s instructions made each step sound the same length: go through town, pass the houses, go down the long drive past the gates. Her imagination had lied to her, though. Every time she thought she’d passed the last house, there came another. Each handed her down the chain of cottage gardens and small homes full of families who pretended not to see. They all knew she’d done something, like she had a brand on her forehead, and she wasn’t allowed to stop. She didn’t try to.

Everything looked sickly yellow in the midday glare. Dust hung in the air, stirred by passing cars, lingering without a breath of wind to dispel the choking clouds. Everything looked flat and dead, so much so she almost missed the gate. Another leg of her trek done. Still too far to go, and the private road leading to the Magus’ home was longer than it had any right to be.

She didn’t feel well. The trees gave her a little protection, but her stomach and lungs felt hard, strained, the way her arms ached with carrying her suitcase. Only they were parts that shouldn’t feel that way, and she thought maybe she should sit down.

But she was almost there.

Even if she walked slowly, and her feet didn’t land quite where she told them to.

She just wouldn’t think about those things. Complaining was just making excuses, and she was expected.

The house appeared out of nowhere, or she was too dizzy to see it through the leaves before the last turn in the drive. It loomed, a very final-looking destination, and her suitcase escaped her grasp. The case was slippery, and her fingers didn’t curl the way they should. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, the whole world spun.

She stood very still until it stopped, and she found herself shivering as she approached the front door. Very strange. Was she afraid? No. That didn’t sound right. She felt terrible, too terrible to worry, and none of it made sense.

But she’d nearly made it. She had made it. Almost.

Knocking summoned a young man, and the door creaked open as he glanced down with a quizzical expression. “Hello? Can I help you?”

She tried holding her suitcase with just one hand, but it slipped away again, barely missing her foot. Maybe a handshake was a bad idea. The stranger hadn’t held his hand out for a shake, after all. She was just confused. He might not want to touch her. And she must look a picture after her walk.

She should’ve done something differently. If she were smarter, or taller, or…

“I’m Aisling Hunt, sir. The Magus sent for me.”

“Oh.” The young man’s eyes popped wider, and she wondered if he was younger than she thought at first. Stepping back, he pulled open the door to usher her inside. “I’m sorry. I’d heard someone was coming, but I’d thought you’d be… well, older. And I’m just Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Aisling.”

He nodded and plucked her bag from where she’d dropped it. “Yes. You said. Are you feeling alright?”

She didn’t know. And grownups didn’t really like it when she was unwell anyway. Before she could come up with a suitable lie that would get her what she needed without stepping on any toes, a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall.

“Ah! You made it.” Out of formal dress, the Magus still brimmed with authority. Aisling had met many adults who wore costumes and pretended to be something they weren’t, but the Magus seemed like he’d somehow stitched his chosen persona into his skin. “Welcome to Fawney Rig.”

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

At last, what he was seeing overshadowed his enthusiasm, and the old man frowned. “Did you walk here? From the station?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“The Fosters didn’t even give you money for a fucking cab?”

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

She blinked, and the whole room turned blue, like peering at the world through stained glass. It looked so pretty she didn’t realize the Magus was asking her another question until his hand settled on her shoulder.

His voice came from far away. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, Magus, I walked, and I found Fawney Rig all on my own, and I’m not useless, please don’t throw me away yet.

But everything looked cool, and blue, and lovely. She was floating in it. Floating and so awfully heavy at the same time. The color slipped in with her breath, eroding her control until it slipped from her grasp like the suitcase had.

The world went dark, and she didn’t see, hear, or say anything more.

And deep below, in the belly of the house, Dream of the Endless waited in his cage, as senseless to the world above as she.

[yuseirra]

Hi there, lovely artist! Do you watch the oshi no ko anime? I ask because I wondered if you are excited to see their depiction of Hikaru, because you make such lovely art of him (it's a depiction I quite like :)). It made me wonder if you have some kind of expectations for the anime.

I'm personally very excited to see Hikaru animated and voice acted :D

Hello anon~ thanks for calling me lovely!♥ I love getting complimented!

Oh! I watched the first 2 eps of the second season, then I decided to put off watching it for a while (I can always buy it in our local OTT platform, they have it there!) because the manga... ;v; is already making my head spin so much already. I can only focus on one thing at a time... It was SO good though!!// I remember how the first episode started with stage-play, which was very impressive. The opening animation sequence is amazing too! I'd like to binge it all at once later.

Hmm...about expectations, I personally consider the current arc to be great in terms of depicting Aqua's psychology. It was peak in terms of helping us understand his character, so I appreciate that a lot. We get to see all his pains and trauma and the struggles he had, and it was so powerful. I'm sure the anime would be touching on those currently, if they do a great job with that (along with Akane's rivalry with Kana and how they shine on stage in different ways) I feel I'd be happy with it! Also that scene with Melt. I'm sure that one's been animated because I saw a thumbnail of it on youtube. I'm also looking forward to the aqukana date. That's one of the few peaceful, cute moments we have. I'm sure I'd watch that part the moment it comes out because I'm curious how that's going to be acted out.. and I need to see some happy moments in onk for once. Stuff's been depressing in the manga lately and I feel sorry for a lot of characters;;

OH... thank you!// I'm so happy to hear you like my depiction of him!!/// That gives me strength. Yeah, I'm excited too, because we never saw his color palettes yet, haven't we!! It's going to be all over the internet once it's out, won't it...I'm a little worried if I got it way off.. but I'm prepared to take what they give us! The anime team does the series justice. I trust they will come up with something good. I just mentioned I'd watch the aqukana dating scene as it comes out.. well, that scene with hikaru's also a scene I want to watch (and I NEED to in order to get his color schemes right in the future 'cause I draw! o<-<)

I really want him to get a bright color palette, because his name has to do with both "god" and "light"... or the god of light if combined.. I SERIOUSLY believe he HAS to do with amenouzume, the entertainment god's husband!! That god conveniently is said to have a "shining body" and is called the god of the bright lights!!!! There is no way that has nothing do do with him!! I don't really picture him with dark eyes, I feel golden eyes would really suit him because that gives off the "light" imagery and it'd make sense. It'd also be able to make his black star eyes really stand out as he has them.. and I feel he'd make a good contrast with Ai if he's colored a bit brighter than Aqua or Ruby. purple and yellow contrast each other very well! So I'm crossing my fingers for that to happen. Same here, I'm really curious how he'd sound like, and I'm happily awaiting to see his depiction in the anime. Since I drew a lot of things about him already, I'd be a bit embarrassed if happened to get his colors off... but?? It's the colors I really want. So I won't regret having colored him that way. We can all dream, right!

I drew them upon having received your ask!

it'd be really nice if he has these bright colors that contrasts Ai's dark purple. Saying this again because I really want that to happen ;v;)9999

I get chatty, I hope you can feel my excitement! :) This series makes me both so nervous and excited... I guess it will be like that for awhile.

Let's keep having fun together! I appreciate your ask and I hope you have a fun weekend!

[acourtofthought]

Elriels can say what they want to butI truly believe Azriel and Elain is purely lust and also desperation on Azriels part to have what his brothers have. I mean az has not spoken to Elaine about anything that's important and often voice her and yet they still think that az and Elaine have this deep love for each other give me a break they don't even have a friendship

I fully agree and this is actually along the lines of something @acourtdelaluna and I were talking about the other day in terms of how you can tell who is endgame.

It is in the deep moments, not the cute and fluffy ones, that we see who gravitates toward who.

In the Hybern scene it was Lucien, under threat of the King, who tried to step towards Elain and who broke free of the shackles placed on him to go to Elain's side (while Az even through his injuries was focused on Mor).

During Elain's depression it was Lucien who showed actual devastation on his face at her state while Az drew straws with Cassian to avoid guarding her (something not offered as an option to Lucien). It was Lucien who sat in his room thinking of ways to help her, who asked Feyre if he could help, who asked Feyre to tell him if she needed him in regards to Elain (whereas Az never once asked after Elain's state).

It was Elain who even while confessing her love to Graysen, made sure he knew what her mate's name was.

It was Lucien who ran to find Elain after the war (versus Az who showed no interest in being by her side).

It was Elain who preferred going to her sisters after her kidnapping rather than check up on Az though he was severely injured versus Nesta who refused to leave Cassian's side in ACOWAR after his injuries by the King of Hybern, was prepared to die with him. Elain showed absolutely no concern for whether Az was going to be alright or not.

It was Lucien who made sure to tell Elain he was sorry for the loss of her father (and Az who never once thought or said a single thing about her father even though she was extremely close to him).

"But Az saved Elain at risk to his own life!" And he also wanted to risk his own life again shortly after when he told Rhys he'd have to chain him to a tree to keep him from going back in the war while injured. It was also Az who refused to leave Feyre behind though Feyre ordered him to get Elain to safety. Az saving Elain is not special to Elain and it's getting old to see this argument being recycled over and over when the author gave us 2 other examples of this almost immediately after he went in to retrieve Elain (WITH Feyre and while HIDING in Feyre's shadows).

After Nesta's fight with Elain, Az was no where to be found, did not bother to seek Elain out to see if she was holding up.

On Solstice, Az did not bother asking her about anything serious whatsoever. This is a girl who just admitted to them all she still has trauma and the only thing he cared about his who got who a present and getting a taste "and that would be it."

In SF we get confirmation that Az is struggling yet we have zero evidence that Elain has ever asked him how HE is doing.

Az and Elain ARE surface level and that is canon because they have NEVER shared a conversation about anything important on page. Not her being made, not her father, not her relationship with her sisters, not her mating bond, not his struggles with feeling like he doesn't fit in. Yes, it's canon they were down to hook up but there is zero evidence that they share anything deeper, that she wants anything deeper with him and Sarah's endgame couples are not built on lust and lust alone. If they were Tamlin and Feyre would have been endgame. Elain and Az and their lack of actual concern for the mental health of the other is all the evidence I need at the direction they're going (or not going). Elain isn't pushing Az away so there is no reason they shouldn't be having the meaningful conversations. There is ZERO reason he couldn't have brought her father up to her, that he couldn't have asked if she was ok after her fight with Nesta, that he couldn't have shown pride in her offering to help search for the Trove.

Sexual attraction is grand but I think people need to strip that away from the E/riel ship to really focus on what they have beyond that, which is to say not much. Sarah is not the kind of author who likes two characters to just sit quietly beside one another not saying anything because they just "get" each other. She is on record as having to scrap multiple pages of Bryce and Hunt playing the equivalent of Mario Kart bantering with one another because it served no purpose to the plot. She made both Rhys and Feyre daemati yet they shared tons of actual dialogue. That she has never had Az and Elain share a single meaningful conversation about the things that are bothering them especially in his bonus, that he has never given her credit and she has never given him credit for anything, that SJM had Gwyn share more dialogue with Az in SF than Elain? That she had Az think of Gwyn's trauma and growth but not Elain's?

E/riel is a ship that never set sail and never well in my opinion.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Fade Into You

A particularly bad day leaves y/n yearning for nothing other than the comfort of her boyfriend, Danny. Without question, he comes to the rescue where need be and makes sure she knows just how loved she is. With his help, she begins to see that bad days don’t last forever, especially with a boyfriend like him by her side.

listen while reading: fade into you - mazzy star

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: not too much for this one! bad day angst, mentions of depression/anxiety, swearing, smidgen of drinking, mostly just fluff!! sorry if i miss any!

hey, so this is a short little draft i kind of rewrote today. no smut in this one, just fluff. I’ve been having a particularly rough time the last few days, so it’s kind of a pick-me-up, i guess. boyfriend danny fucks me up fr. drew some inspo from one of my fav sad songs, cause it’s got such a variety of interpretations. also this is very poorly edited and probably not the best, so please forgive me. as always, hope you enjoy, please be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

~

The morning came like a river of discomfort. When your eyes focused for the first time after a long nights rest, you were met with an empty space next to you in bed. The sight sent a wave of disappointment washing over you. Many mornings ago, you’d become certain that there was no better sight than waking to your boyfriend sleeping soundly. Days where he was gone before you were always miserable, and this one was shaping up to be as such. You didn’t have time to dwell on his absence; the next thing to catch your attention was the sun shining just a little too brightly in the sky. Once you clued in to the unusual scene, a jolt of panic ran through you. You you reached for your phone to check the time, but you were quite aware of what you were going to discover. While your thumb prodded the screen, trying to awaken it, you were already swinging your legs over the side of the mattress to get up.

Your screen displayed the time as 8:30; an hour later than you were supposed to be waking up. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, and you only had a half an hour to get ready and drive to work. There was enough time to brush your teeth and wash your face, and in your rush, you managed to make a big enough cup of coffee to get you started in lieu of breakfast. As hungry as you were, you knew you’d need the caffeine more than anything. By the time you were out the door, you had maybe ten minutes to get to your job, and even that was a generous time frame. It was a miserable way to start a Friday, you concluded. No joy for the weekend was present, just annoyance at how the morning had begun.

The drive was a blur; you pushed the boundaries of the speed limit the entire time, laser focused on the clock as if your staring would change the time. Between slow drivers and stop lights, there was no way you could avoid being late. When you pulled into your parking spot, the vehicle was barely in park before you were gathering your things and jumping out. In reality, you weren’t dramatically late, but you knew your boss all too well to think you could get away with missing even a few minutes of work. As you placed your items on your desk, your worry was solidified when your name was called from the door of your office.

“Y/n, you know we don’t tolerate this kind of behaviour.” He said, a disapproving tone very apparent.

“I know, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” You said, logging into your computer as you sat down.

“Next time I’ll have to write it up. I’ll let you go with a warning.”

“Thank you.” You looked up over your laptop, managing a small smile.

“I don’t want to have to dock your pay, but I will if this becomes a regular issue.” He explained, leaving you to sit with the information. He closed the door behind him as he walked out.

“Dick,” you mumbled, taking a sip out of your mug.

They morning dragged on without much interruption, filled mostly with mind-numbing reports and the occasional email filtering through your inbox. You couldn’t seem to shake yourself from the poor mood, finding it growing worse with each second that passed. By the time noon rolled around, you were all but focused on work, and your stomach was begging you for a bite to eat. You grabbed your phone and keys, making your way outside for a minute of freedom. You hoped the hour would allow you to rid yourself of the cloud of darkness that was looming over your head.

You climbed into your car and checked your phone, but you were met with another staggering disappointment. No text messages were received from the one person you’d hoped to hear from, so you clicked on his contact. Instead of waiting on a word from him, you called him, first. The phone rang for a moment, leaving you wondering if he was going to answer. As you listened to the dial tone, anxiety bubbled in your chest, fearing that you were interrupting something important. Just as you were getting ready to hang up, his cheery voice filled the stale air.

“Hi, beautiful.” Danny greeted. You could hear the smile in his words. His cheery tone eased your worry of him not wanting to talk to you. As ridiculous as the fear was, your brain wouldn’t give it up. You were constantly nervous that you were interrupting, or being a burden, and days like this one only made your brain scream it even louder.

“Hi,” You sighed, feeling your lips upturn into a little grin. It was the first time you’d done anything but frown all day. You slipped your car keys into the ignition, allowing your call to connect to the Bluetooth feature. “I miss you.” You said, unable to hold the confession back.

“I miss you,” He replied, sincerity dripping from his tone. “You okay?” He knew you well enough to tell your mood just from the tone of voice. He was nothing if not attentive, and always willing to listen if you wanted to air out your thoughts.

“No.” You were honest. “I was late to work. Slept in.” You explained as you pulled out of the parking lot. He knew all too well how you felt about your boss, not needing to ask about his reaction. “I think it’s just another one of those days,” you mumbled. He gave a hum of understanding, also aware of how much your bad days could affect you. “Any chance you can meet me for lunch? I know it’s a long shot, but I could really use a hug.” You felt guilty for even asking, but you couldn’t help it. He was your comfort person, and he always seemed to make the bad feelings go away.

“I’m sorry, baby. I would if I could, but we’re at the studio right now. We have a meeting right after we finish up, too.” He sounded sad for having to turn you down, almost making you feel even worse for asking. You hated when was upset, and knowing that he was upset on behalf of how you were feeling didn’t make it any better.

“That’s okay,” you knew it was a big ask, and you also knew he would absolutely be on his way if the situation allowed it. “I’m okay with just hearing your voice.”

“Promise I’ll make it up to you tonight?” He asked, hopeful.

“Don’t have to make it up to me.” You laughed. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll bring home dinner, and we can do whatever you want.” He told you, not willing to bargain.

“Okay.” You conceded, pulling into a cafe you frequented.

“I’m sorry I was gone before you woke up. We wanted to get here early so we could get as much done as possible.”

“I know, you don’t have to apologize, baby.” You repeated your earlier reassurance, hating the fact that he always felt like he had to apologize, even when there was nothing to apologize for. You never wanted him to feel remorseful over things he couldn’t control. He put so much effort into you and your happiness, but for some reason it seemed like he felt the need to give even more. “As long as I get you all to myself tonight, I don’t care.” You parked, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“You can always have that, bug. I’m all yours, remember?” He assured you. You smiled at the words, eternally grateful to have someone as kind as him.

“I’m gonna go eat, I won’t keep you any longer. I love you.”

“I love you, baby. I can’t wait to see you later.” The sincerity was thick in his tone, wanting you to know he meant it. “I hope your afternoon goes better than the morning.”

“I can’t wait either, and I hope you have a good day, too.” You smiled. You two uttered a small goodbye, ending the call without another word.

You went into the small shop, thankful for the short line. You gazed up at the menu, pondering what to get. As you stared, your mind drifted off to the boy you’d just been on the phone with. He was your rock, your best friend, and the love of your life; the only thing that gave you true motivation to get through the shitty days. The bad days didn’t come often, but when they did, they were horrid. It was never a just minor incident that caused a disturbance, it always seemed to be written in the stars that everything that could go bad, went badly. When the cashier called you over to order, you settled on another coffee and a sandwich.

After you paid, you made sure to leave a nice tip, hoping that the universe would send some good karma back your way. You moved over to the waiting area, pulling your phone from your pocket to pass the time. When you clicked it on, you immediately relaxed at the sight of your screensaver. It was a picture Sam had sneakily taken of you and Danny; you were looking off in the distance, completely taken off guard when your boyfriend had snuck up behind you and pulled you into a hug. His lips were pressed to your cheek and you were caught in a shriek of laughter. It was your favourite photo to ever exist, and it always made your day better when you saw it.

You’d been dating Danny for a few years now, having moved in together just about a year prior. It had been nothing short of fantastic, aside from the times he was travelling for his career in music. The big home was a bit lonely without him, but you were more than happy to watch him live his dream. There was rarely an argument, and your life was completely filled with love. Still, that didn’t rid your life of days like today, where you couldn’t find it in yourself to see the brighter side of things. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the world that could. Bad days were normal, and everyone had them, but it always felt like yours were catastrophic. They were the type of bad days that made you want to crawl into bed and never leave, plagued with the kind of misery that ached all over and settled deep in your bones.

Danny was like a ray of light, the only aura that could penetrate the cloud of emotion you found yourself caught in. He was well aware he couldn’t solve the issues, but was completely content with just guiding you through it. He did a fantastic job, showering you with love and support. He always quick with positive affirmations in argument to your insecurities, and if words couldn’t help, he was happy to hold you all night if it meant you would feel better. He was beyond anything you ever could have hoped for in a partner, and you were incredibly lucky to have him. At the same time, it sucked that he was the only thing that could truly help you in your bad times, because that meant you had to suffer through until you could see his smiling face. You were sure now that he was aware of the mood you were in, he’d use every spare second of time to send you messages reminding you of how much he adored you.

The barista called your name for the order, catching your attention. You have a half-assed smile and a thank you, reaching out to grab your drink. When you wrapped your hands around it and pulled it towards you, the force from your fingers knocked the poorly secured lid off. The flimsy cardboard cup collapsed inwards, spilling the contents down the front of you. You hissed at the heat from the liquid, closing your eyes at the burning sensation. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” The barista blurted out, scrambling for napkins. She handed them across the counter and you grabbed them, dabbing at your clothes. Thankfully, they were black, so the liquid wouldn’t stain them.

“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” You assured her.

“I should have checked the lid.” She sighed. “I’ll get you another one.” She told you before bustling away. You cleaned yourself up as best you could, knowing the thin paper napkins weren’t much of a help. You prayed you had a change of clothes in your car, but didn’t hold onto too much hope. You never seemed to have that type of luck in your life. When your replacement drink was safely in your hand, you mumbled another thank you and quickly bustled out the door to avoid any further embarrassment.

You scavenged your backseat for any other clothes, but you were quickly met with disappointment. You got in the drivers seat, fighting back tears, realizing that the day was not going to get any better. As you drove back to work, your skin was tingling with residual pain, and you wished for nothing more than to just go home. You walked back inside with your head down and your lunch in your hands, praying nobody would stop you and try to spark a conversation. When you got to your office, you closed the door behind you and collapsed into your chair, defeated from the days events. You noticed that your phone was vibrating in your pocket again, and your stomach was still growling with violent hunger.

As you began to eat, you read over the texts you’d received. The first was from Danny, telling you how much he loved you in addition to a plethora of hearts. The rest were from his bandmates, all along the same lines of them wishing you a good day and telling you they missed you. Danny had likely told them you were having a bad day, urging them to show you some love, too. They were nothing short of your best friends, and they always wanted to play a helping hand in making you feel better, so they obliged without issue. You replied to all of them as you ate, finding yourself giving a few genuine smiles at their uplifting words.

When your break finished, you returned to work with a steady eye on the time, praying for 5 o’clock to come faster. The afternoon dragged on much like the morning, still feeling like every minute was passing slower and slower. Eventually, when four thirty hit, you started to pack up your bag in anticipation to leave. Five minutes before your shift was through, you logged out of your accounts and gathered your things. Just as you were starting to shut your computer down, a knock sounded on your door. “Come in.” You called. Soon after, the door swung open and your boss appeared with a stack of files. You tried your best to push a smile out to cover up your grimace.

“It’s your turn to do the month-end report.” He said, placing the papers on your desk. You were certain you had done it not too long ago, leading you to believe this was his punishment for you coming in late. You sucked in a breath through your gritted teeth, nodding in response.

“Okay, I’ll get it done Monday.” You said, grabbing the files and placing them in your desk.

“Perfect. See you Monday at nine!” He made sure to emphasize the time before leaving you to yourself. You grumbled a slur of curses before locking your desk drawers and throwing your office keys in your purse. You stood, double checking that you had everything before heading out of the building.

It was raining, now. The grey clouds in the sky had a striking resemblance to your mood. You unlocked your car and threw your stuff on the passenger seat as you climbed in. When you turned the key in the ignition, the engine turned over, but didn’t start. You felt your stomach sink, immediately trying it once more, but you were met with the same result. You let your hand fall with force against the steering wheel, letting out a short-lived scream. The tears you managed to hold back earlier made their way out with a new found force. You fell back into the seat, closing your eyes while you tried to regain yourself.

After a moment, you pulled out your phone and called Danny again. This time, he answered much faster. “Hey, baby, you on your way home?”

“No,” you tried to keep your voice steady, but he could tell you were crying just from the single word.

“What’s wrong?”

“Car won’t start.” You mumbled. “Think the battery’s dead.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m on my way home, not far from you, actually. I think I have some cables in the back.” He explained. You let out a sigh of relief, wiping away tears. Although it was a pointless effort, because they were falling faster than you could keep up with. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” You sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying sorry for, bug?” You felt overwhelmed at his never-ending kindness, feeling deep down that you weren’t deserving of it.

“Making you stop, bothering you all day, being sad.” You gave a small, humourless chuckle as you listed the inconveniences.

“Don’t think any of that is deserving of an apology. Having to stop only means I get to see you, sooner. And, you haven’t been bothering me at all.” You could almost hear the frown in his voice, although his tone was comforting. “You never bother me. You’re my favourite thing in the whole world.”

“I just want to go home and go to bed.” You said, feeling another wave of sobs wash over you. You were distraught enough that you couldn’t even respond to his sweet words. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know, bug. I’m pulling in, now. Can you see me?” You looked to the entry of the parking lot, and sure enough, he was there. He pulled up beside you, giving you a goofy smile and a wave. You couldn’t help but laugh through the tears. The sight of him alone was enough to ease the hurt. He rolled his passenger window down, prompting you to roll yours down, too. He ended the call before he spoke. “Hello, beautiful. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hi,” you greeted, sending him a smile. He climbed out of his vehicle, walking over to your window. He reached in, immediately wiping the tears away from your face.

“No need to cry over a dead battery. Easy fix.” He assured you. He leaned in, giving you a quick kiss. You felt the dread fizzle away, immediately feeling better at the small gesture. “You smell like coffee.” He noted.

“Long story.” You sighed, taking in the sight of him. He was in a cut off t-shirt and jeans, and his hair was pulled back into a bun. He looked tired, but had a permanent smile stuck on his lips. He was gorgeous, even in the simplicity. You thought it would be impossible for someone to be more beautiful than him.

“Care to share?” He asked as he opened the back door of his car. He pulled out a set of jumper cables in triumph, turning to show you. His proud expression was adorable, sending a flood of warmth straight to your heart. His willingness to help was overwhelming in the best possible way. You’d never met someone who cared for you so much, let alone someone who seemed so happy to do so.

“Spilled my drink all over me at the cafe earlier.” You told him, watching him move to the hood of his car. He lifted it, propping it up. He walked over and did the same to yours.

“You’re supposed to drink it, not wear it, silly.” He made a lighthearted pass. “Did it burn you?”

“It hurt, but I don’t think it left any marks or anything. Don’t really feel it, now.” He connected the cables carefully, making sure they were on in the right spots.

“Well that’s good at least, bug. Try starting it now.” He took a step back. You turned the keys over, and the engine sputtered for a moment, but eventually started. You let out a sigh of relief. He removed the cables and threw them back in his car. You left yours running, but got out to join him. “See? Easy fix. Should charge itself on the drive home.” He hummed, holding his arms out to you. You practically fell into them, holding on to him as if your life depended on it. You didn’t care about the rain, just about finally being able to hug him. Everything felt okay when he was holding you. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, gently rubbing his palm over your back.

“You’re the best, Danny. Thank you so much.” You said, fully meaning it. He was the best, you were certain of it. “I love you.” You mumbled, words muffled due to your face being pressed into his chest.

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you, too.” He didn’t let you go until you were ready. Eventually you pulled back, looking up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes. “I picked up dinner. Your favourite.” He gave a smile, reaching up and brushing your hair from your face. He cupped your cheek in his large hand, causing you to instinctively lean into the touch.

“You’re too good to me.” You closed your eyes, savouring the feeling of his skin on yours.

“As if,” he let out a playful scoff. “Get in, you’re gonna get sick if you stand out in the rain for too long.” He said. You gave a nod, reluctantly pulling back from him. He leaned down, giving you one last kiss before opening your car door for you. “I’ll see you at home.” He said as he closed the door behind you. “Drive safe.”

“You, too. Thank you again.” He waved you off, not willing to accept a thank you for such a small service. He waited for you to pull out and leave before getting back into his vehicle.

The drive home was much better than the rest of your day. Knowing you would get to spend the rest of the night alone with Danny was enough of a consolation for the days suffering. The idea alone was even able to put you in good spirits, finding yourself able to sing along with a few songs on the radio. When you reached your shared home, you parked and hopped out, eager to get inside and get your coffee-stained clothes off. You weren’t even in the house before Danny was driving in, too. You waited for him to join you, watching him as he collected his things. “You threw a hitch in my plan.” He laughed, peeking at you over the roof of his car. You raised an eyebrow as an inquiry. “My big romantic gesture relied on me being home before you.” He explained. You noticed a tinge of red plaster across his cheeks. He pulled out a bouquet of flowers and a little stuffed animal. A box of chocolates was hidden behind the bear, too.

“Danny,” You scolded, feeling your eyes brim with tears again. Although, they were happy ones, this time. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to, baby. It’s not much, but I hope it helps a little bit.” You walked over to him, straining a bit to place a kiss to his cheek. Even with your heels on, he was still a little too tall to reach. “You deserve it. I, uh, got your favourite wine, too. I figured it’s Friday, so…” the dreaded tears ran down your face again, making him nervous that he may have done the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, was it stupid? I just wanted to cheer you up.”

“No! No, I just… I appreciate you. You’re too good to me.” You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, trying to compose yourself again.

“I don’t think I could ever be too good to you. You deserve the world.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.

“Thank you so much.” You said as he pulled away.

“You’re welcome, bug. Here,” he handed you the flowers and the bear. You took them, looking over them in gratitude. He grabbed the bag of takeout and the bottle of wine, closing the door with his foot. You both made your way inside, kicking your shoes off and going straight to the kitchen. He placed everything he was carrying on the table and grabbed the stuff from your hands. “Go take a shower, I’ll take care of everything else.” You gave him a soft smile, taking the opportunity to pull him into another hug.

“You’re the best.” You told him, making sure your poor mood didn’t cloud your appreciation.

“Only for you.” He whispered. You almost laughed at the statement.

“Whatever,” you pulled back, looking up at his smiling face. “You’re a ray of sunshine no matter where you go. You know that.”

“Yeah, but I shine the brightest for you.” He reminded. He lifted your chin with his index finger, leaning down for one more kiss before you left.

After you showered, you changed into one of Danny’s t-shirts and a pair of your most comfortable old pyjama pants that you’d word almost to destruction. When you joined him back downstairs, he’d put the flowers in a vase turned all of the lights off. In the living room, you could hear the soft hum of the record player. You followed the sound, seeing him sitting on the couch with the coffee table pulled close. The takeout containers were resting atop of it, with two glasses of wine accompanying them. He had changed, too, now only in a pair of sweatpants. His hair was still tied back, giving you a full view of his face. He’d even lit a few candles around the room, giving some low light after he’d closed the curtains. His lips upturned into a smile at the sight of you

“Come here,” he held his hand out to you. You obliged to his request with no hesitation, joining him on the couch. “Feel better?”

“Much,” You assured him.

“We’ve got the whole night to do whatever you want. We got what we needed done at the studio, today, so we have all day tomorrow, too.” Your heart warmed at his statement, realizing you could spend all day wrapped up in each other. You were eager to get as much time with him as possible, already preparing for the next time he’d have to go on tour.

You two ate in almost silence, enjoying the food and each others company. When you were both full, you took the takeout containers and stored the leftovers in the fridge. You returned and saw that Danny had readjusted himself on the couch, leaning into the arm with his legs strewn across it lengthwise. You changed the record before sitting down, finding home between his legs and resting your back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. You relaxed into his hold, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his shoulder. He snaked his hands under your shirt, letting them rest on your stomach. There was no hidden implication, just the desire to feel closer to you.

You slipped your hands on top of his, intertwining your fingers. After a moment, he leaned down, placing a kiss to your cheek. He kept his head down, resting his face on yours. You laughed at the action, leaning into him a bit more. The warmth of his skin felt nice on yours, inviting you into him even further. “I love you more than words, bug.” He hummed. The small things he did were worth more than the entire world, to you. His small gestures and loving words never left any room for doubt, and he loved you better than anyone that came before him. You were sure that nobody would come after him, either. You felt quite confident in saying he was the love of your life, and you’d be damned if you let him get away.

“You have no idea how much I love you.” You replied, feeling his arms squeeze you a little bit tighter.

“Bet you it’s not even close to how much I love you.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry my bad days get so bad.” You whispered. “I know it’s hard to deal with, and I know you’re too nice to tell me.”

“I don’t think you’re hard to deal with at all. I don’t know who made you believe that, because it’s always been a pleasure to love you, even on your bad days. Means you’re comfortable enough to show me all of you, and that’s what I want.” He explained. If it was possible to love him any more, at the sound of his words, you did. He always seemed to know exactly what to say. “You’re human. You’re allowed to be sad, or angry, or whatever you want to feel whenever you want to feel it. When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I didn’t just want to date you for the good times. That would be selfish. I signed up for all of it, the bad days, the sick days, the boring ones, and the really good ones. You take care of me when I’m grumpy, too.” You chuckled.

“As if you’re ever grumpy.”

“You take care of me in all sorts of ways. Don’t discredit yourself.” He said, loosening his grip and reaching over for his wine glass. “I don’t ever want you to feel guilty for being upset. Taking care of you is my favourite thing to do.” The conversation died down, and the wine was coming to an end, too. You were both slightly tipsy; your cheeks rosy and you were both growing more handsy by the second. With enough time, the fog of misery seemed to dissipate as well. It was part of his charm; just knowing he existed was enough to put a smile on your face. Danny was the exception to every bad mood and miserable day. His love was stronger than any horrible thought or emotion your brain could conspire, and it always seemed to chase them away.

You stood, making a move to change the record which had slowed to a stop. You flashed him a cover, silently asking for approval. He gave a hum of affirmation, appreciating your choice. You replaced the record that was already on with the new one, carefully slipping it back in its sleeve. You touched the needle to the vinyl, waiting a second for the music to start. When it did, Danny stood and walked over to you. He held out a hand, resulting in a quizzical look from you.

“Dance with me.” He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You rolled your eyes, but a smile was growing on your lips. You took his hand, allowing him to carefully twirl you around. He pulled you into him, his hand finding your hip. You brought your arms up to his neck, both of you swaying in time to the music.

“I can’t dance.” You giggled, but he already knew that.

“Me, either.” He laughed, but you knew that, too.

“Four left feet and a bottle of wine don’t mix, Danny.” You explained.

“What’s life without a little risk?” He asked, bracing his arm on your lower back as he pulled you into him and dipped you down towards the floor. You let out a chorus of giggles as he did so, having no fear that he would drop you. If there was one thing you knew about Danny, it was that he’d protect you with his life. If you were falling, he’d always catch you. If he couldn’t, he’d fall, too, just so you wouldn’t have to do it alone. He leaned down and kissed you, holding the position for a moment. He parted from you only slightly, just to give you a grin.

“How romantic.” You poked fun. “You trying to seduce me?”

“Depends,” he said “is it working?”

“Mmm, you’re almost there.” He leaned down, placing a kiss on your exposed neck. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, realizing that there was nothing that could compare. “Better.” He pulled you back upright, making sure you were steady on your feet. He guided your chin upwards with his finger and brought you into another kiss, one where the only thing he had to focus on was you. You let one of your hands fall on his bicep and the other on the back of his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. The wine was clouding your head, enhancing every touch. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you towards him once more. When you parted, you were both breathless and had stars dancing in your eyes.

You watched him for a moment, immersed in his aura. Even the air around him radiated with comfort. He was perfect. He was everything. Unfathomably caring, attentive, and more loving than you ever believed a person could be. You felt extremely blessed to be able to share your life with him, and you were eternally grateful to have someone who was so willing to love you, even when it didn’t serve him any benefit. “What are you thinking about?” He asked, hands still holding you close to him.

“You,” you admitted, giving him a small smile. “I’m always thinking about you.”

“That’s strange,” he hummed, looking quite pensive. “‘Cause I’m always thinking about you, too.”

“That is weird.” You agreed. “You think we should start dating, or something?” You asked, pretending to be bashful about the question.

“Yeah, I think that would be pretty cool.” He nodded. “Should we, like, hold hands or something?” He asked, as if the idea was blasphemous. You shrugged, eventually nodding back at him.

“That would be pretty cool,” you mimicked his statement. In response, he let one hand fall from your hip, extending it out to you. You slipped yours into his, intertwining your fingers. “I love you.” You whispered, a grin eating away at your face. The childish nature of the situation reflected on the purity of the adoration he had for you.

“I love you, bug.” He leaned down, placing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry you had a rough day.”

“It’s okay. You always make it better.” He wrapped his arm around you, holding you with all of the love he could muster within him.

“That’s all I want to do. I’d be more than alright if I spent the rest of my life making you happy.”

“You wouldn’t have to try very hard. Happy is the only thing I know how to feel, when I’m with you.” You laid your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes, completely overtaken with comfort. You were certain that if you got to spend the rest of your life loving him, it would be the happiest lifetime you could live.

[rubykgrant]

Another re-draw with Grif and Simmons... but this one ticked me OFF while making it; it was so difficult re-doing the lines for a full-body picture, AND I kept drawing one the wrong layer, so I had to do it again and again (it's cool that MS Paint has layers now, but that also means the wrong-layer problem happens). I mostly wanted to do this again because I can see what I WANTED for the shapes in the original, but it isn't quite there... so I fixed things a bit, and added more colors/shading, plus some lazy "scenery". I also finally adjusted their outfits to the fancy designs I came up with. This is from my story in which Grif and Simmons finally go out on their first date... after technically being boyfriends for months (because they're stupid like that). They have a brief chance to enjoy themselves without some bonkers problem happening, so they go full sappy-romance (a nice meal together, a movie, dancing in a park while a live band plays music, and finally a walk on the beach at sunset. They deserve to be happy for once~)

Chapter for this scene below!

“So, where are we going?” Simmons asked, unsure of what to expect.

“It’s right over there…” Grif nodded in the direction he wanted them to go.

This was an interesting park; it had different areas, some flat and open grass for people who wanted to start a game where they kicked a ball around, some filled with flower beds surrounding fountains and benches, some almost like taking a walk in the woods under towering pine and oak trees.

Grif’s destination was down a little brick walkway, where there was a courtyard that overlooked a ledge, with hanging plants growing up metal garden arbors.

Simmons came right along, letting Grif lead the way. As they passed under the arch of leaves and flowers, Grif glanced at his boyfriend’s face, and was satisfied to see an expression of bright interest (he was hoping for this reaction, because this area of the park was like stepping into a scene from a fairytale… it was easier to let yourself get all sentimental and romantic when the person you were with appreciated it).

Together, they walked to the stone railing, and looked down. Far below them was a field with several small gazebos, and one large amphitheater. It was there that drew Simmons’ attention, because a group of musicians and performers had gathered. Grif’s attention was still on him… the way he looked in the soft evening light, the way the gentle breeze was sweeping his hair across his forehead, the way he was smiling like an excited kid. All kinds of fond feelings twisted in Grif’s chest… he was starting to enjoy having butterflies so often.

“How did you find this place?” Simmons asked.

“Well, while you were off having your family crisis, and I was dealing with being super extra depressed, um… Sarge actually started forcing me to go on walks with him in the morning,” now that WAS a little embarrassing, but Grif’s done trying to put up a front anymore. “And don’t start apologizing again, I’m not telling you this to guilt-trip you. Anyway, he was making me walk around outside with him, something about how I’d get bed-sores and start growing fungus if I just stayed in bed forever, and one time we found this little corner of the park. I started coming back here on my own in the evenings, because it’s kind of a cool spot. Back then I thought about how, like… if I got to hang out with you again, I’d want to show it to you… so yeah. Here we are,”

Simmons listened intently as Grif talked, and held back his urge to say how sorry he was… he still hated himself a little for the way things happened. This moment wasn’t about all that, though; this was about Grif wanting to share something with Simmons, and he was NOT going to ruin it with left-over shame. Instead, he gave Grif’s hand a gentle squeeze with his own organic one. All that stressful crap was over. He wasn’t going to let his family hurt him again. He wasn’t going to leave Grif like that again, either. They were finally together, they were on their first real date, and Grif was being so sweet…

All those feelings about regret fell away, and Simmons leaned against the railing, a helpless dreamy expression on his face as he smiled at Grif. He couldn’t do anything to stop it, so he didn’t even try. Grif smiled back, and seemed to understand that they were BOTH absolutely stupid for each other… they always had been, but now they could do something about it. Simmons tilted his head forward, and Grif met him halfway for a soft kiss.

“Thanks for bringing me here. This was a really great day, Grif…” Simmons said when they leaned apart.

“Oh, we’re not done just yet,” Grif told Simmons as he blinked his eyes open. “Wait a sec…”

It had finally gotten dark enough, here in the shadows of nearby tall buildings, for the lights to flicker on; several lamp posts began to glow around them, and down at the amphitheater, music started to play. It was an unknown tune, but something grand and soothing, slow without being like a lullaby.

“This is why I wanted to bring you here for a first date,” Grif elaborated, slowing stepping backwards from the railing and into the middle of the courtyard, bringing Simmons with him. “You never got to have an awkward date at a lame school dance. So, that’s what’s happening dude. We’re dancing!”

“Haha, oh my GOD! You- you really planned this?” Simmons stumbled as Grif yanked him closer, laughing the whole time.

“That’s right! I told you, I wanna be all your first-date-experiences, and that includes doing the slow-dance-shuffle,” Grif grinned.

“What, exactly, is the slow-dance-shuffle?”

“It’s the thing little middle-schoolers do when they don’t know how to dance yet, they just kinda hug and shuffle their feet, so they rock in a circle. Don’t worry, it’s easy…” Grif wrapped his arms around Simmons as the music swelled, growing louder. “And unlike middle-schoolers, we don’t have to worry about teachers and chaperones telling us to leave room for Jesus while we dance!”

Simmons almost fell down from laughing, leaning all his weight into Grif. A moment passed with them both giggling before they finally managed to compose themselves.

Now, Grif settled his hands on Simmons’ waist, warm and comforting. Simmons loved it whenever he felt Grif touch him… on his back, his arms, his chest… the times Grif affectionately holds his face… Simmons can’t believe he spent so many years NOT feeling Grif’s hands all over him. He can’t get enough.

Simmons slipped his own hands up to rest on Grif’s shoulders, and Grif pressed their bodies together. This wasn’t going to be a fancy waltz or anything complicated… just the slow-dance-shuffle. Unlike most REAL first-date dances, this was intimate and comfortable, close and cozy. It also wasn’t taking place in a school gym decorated with balloons and streamers; they were in their own little corner right here, flowers draped above them, pleasant lights illuminating the area, and beautiful music playing… it was utterly ROMANTIC, and Grif was very proud of himself for pulling it all together.

“You know, one of the schools I went to, they made us do dancing for PE,” Simmons said as they shuffled.

“Ha, so did mine. It was square-dancing for some reason,” Grif replied.

“Me too, but they also made us do ballroom dancing. Which looks stupid as hell in gym clothes,” Simmons grimaced at the memory.

“Oh shit, like actual proper ballroom dancing?” Grif winced as well. That sounded emotionally painful.

“Yep. It was so ridiculous, because we’d do it after running laps, so the kids were all sweaty, and nobody wanted to touch each other. Not exactly fun,”

“What about this? Right now?” Grif asked with a smile.

“Yeah… this is fun,” Simmons agreed.

“Good. I wanted today to be fun, but y’know, special too. That’s why I said we should dress-up a little nice, and why I wanted to do all the things we like together. We don’t get a lot of chances for special things to happen to us, so I decided I was going to MAKE this happen. We deserve to have a goddamn LOVELY TIME at least once in our lives, right?” Grif gave Simmons an extra little squeeze around his waist.

“I’m so lucky to have you with me…” Simmons sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against Grif’s.

“Excuse you, I’m the lucky one,” Grif responded, nuzzling his face closer.

“Nuh-uh, I’M the lucky one!” Simmons argued.

“No, Me!”

“No, Me!”

They attempted to drown each other out by both shouting “ME ME ME ME ME!” before dissolving into laughter once again, which then slowly faded as they kissed. They hummed and continued to sway, moving slowly in a circle… dancing. Simmons was dancing with his boyfriend. They were boyfriends, and they were dancing. What an extraordinary thing. People did things like this every day, but that didn’t lessen the feeling that it was special. Perhaps it even confirmed it.

Eventually, they heard the music end and the crowd below applaud. They stopped dancing then, just hugging and holding each other for a while. A gust of wind made the flowers and leaves rustle pleasantly around them, and brought the sweet floral scent from other areas of the park in the air; some mixture of lilacs, honeysuckle, daffodils, roses, iris, pink ladies, wisteria, and more. This was, undeniably, a lovely time.

Without speaking out loud, the two seemed to decide to walk back to the car. Because of the tall trees and surrounding buildings from the city, the park was now a patchwork of dark shadows and warm light; the setting sun was still burning brightly in the sky, and wherever it's glow touched, the world turned to gold and deep shades of red. Where the light was blocked, everything became cooler colors, a combination of blues/greens/purples. As both men walked, in and out of the sun and shadows, it was almost like stepping through different seasons at different times of day (summer in the late afternoon, winter just before dawn).

[reallypleasanttree]

Hey there I’m a huge fan of your works and stories ☺️💯. And I was wondering, what inspired you to write such a beautiful,tragic, and heartwarming story about Kanroji and Obanai?

First off, thank you so much! ☺️ I adore tragic romances, so when I finished reading Demon Slayer I was torn to shreds by Obanai and Mitsuri’s story. Their type of love is my ideal where they simply accept each other as they are. It’s simple and sweet.

They were stripped of their happy ending. If they just had the courage to express their feelings before the end, they could have been happy together. It hurt so much. Especially with the way Obanai viewed Mitsuri and believing he needed to be reborn just to be with her? Heartbreaking. Mitsuri would have loved him no matter what his upbringing was. They both viewed each other in a positive light, but the way they viewed themselves was negative. Obanai thought he was a corrupt, vile creature while Mitsuri was insecure and wanted acceptance. If they had been able to see themselves the way the other viewed them, they could have confessed before the final battle. It devastates me every time and I have to remedy it.

Anyway, I read a ton of fanfics for Obamitsu. “Nights” by Rottorex, Peppermint Tea” by prettyshimmie, and “to die nobly, to cleanse his filthy blood” by Clemsmelody helped inspire it. I started daydreaming and plotting out my own fic.

After a few days of thinking through plot points, I decided to go for it. “Wedding Plans” was supposed to be three chapters. 🙃 however, I kept writing more and more about Obanai’s backstory and deep dived into his psychology. I couldn’t just make him suddenly be better in two months and not explain how he got better. I wanted to show a realistic recovery for someone with depression, anxiety, and childhood abuse. It doesn't happen over night and it takes a lot of effort.

As someone with depression and anxiety, I drew from my own experiences. The part where Obanai didn’t know how to tie his shoes? My parents never taught me, so I taught myself. When you realize your parents didn’t teach you the bare minimum to dress yourself, it hits you like a brick. You explain away their actions and accept it as the norm because that’s what was expected of you.

With Mitsuri, I admire her personality. I love people who are exceptionally kind, always wear a smile, and genuinely care about you as person, not just for show. She’s a normal girl with insecurities and wishes to be accepted. Everyone can relate, I’m sure. Also, I love writing her awkward moments. I wanted to show a relationship gradually develop from a place of admiration and respect. Also, it was fun coming up with different scenarios and how to apply their past lives to the modern era.

To be honest, the parts I write in the Demon Slayer canon universe are primarily inspired by fan art. I wanted to highlight little actions and moments that lead to Mitsuri and Obanai falling for each other. I’m so excited to share the next flashback scene, but I don’t want to spoil it.

When it comes to writing, I love angst, but I have to even it out with lighthearted moments. Like Mitsuri making Obanai food for the first time and then he has a panic attack. My partner calls it "dark cotton candy fluff", which cracks me up. Plus with the cast of characters in Demon Slayer, it makes it easy to keep it heart warming. Kyojuro and Gyomei especially. 🥰

To sum it up, I was inspired to write Obanai and Mitsuri’s story in the modern era because I wanted to explore the beginnings of a relationship, Obanai’s past and family, and ultimately give them the happy ending they deserved.

As for my other Obamitsu fics, I write them on a whim and let my steam of conscious take over ("To my love", "Positive, Positive, Positive", "I want to live this life with you", and "Mrs. Iguro") Or they are discarded scenes from "Wedding Plans" (See "Bitter Torment").

[yosajaeofficial]

JUNE UPDATE

WASSUP BROS AND HOES, IT’S ME, YOSA FRICKING JAE. BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH ANOTHER UPDATE ABOUT THE JMC 🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️

Last time, I remember saying it’ll be different and things will spice up, and I am indeed gonna provide more stuff piled into these updates because the debut comic is taking so long. I wanna make sure you all get full when consuming these updates instead of being like “oh, nothing happened lol”. I have a good chunk of shit to talk about that’s outside of the comic itself, but it’s like behind the scene stuff about it :3

With that out of the way, let’s finally get started!

The Comic

(W.I.P OF THE OFFICAL DEBUT COMIC)

The comic is slowly making progress, the first thing that’s changing is me showing progress of the comic itself and giving ya’ll w.i.ps in order for me to give you guys content to look over, and because I just want ya’ll to see it yk? The honest truth is that it’s moving slow because of burnout. It was huge and made me wanna give up on the comic and leave the fandom, I was struggling for a good while but my best friend told me it was best to take a break and recharge instead of pushing further. They told me to do something else so I can regain my motivation and passion for the project, and she was right, because I’ve been having fun hanging out, watching her play Stardew Valley, and letting loose without the pressure for the debut comic to come out. I have to prioritize my health and well-being before anything else, and I know the comic will be done!

Also for you all to know, the team I had disbanded, and right now I don’t have a full official one to help with the debut. I have amazing friends that have helped look over the script, one did some sketch compositions, one helped fix up grammar in the script. They helped me greatly and I’m so grateful for them and their loving support even through all of the rough patches. For the most part, I’ve been doing everything on my own, and it can get stressful easily because of how much I’ve had to change my plans and shuffle around when the team disbanded. I’ve been the one doing the scripting, sketches, lineart, color, management, and just everything. Even if I try to act like things are fine behind the scenes, I definitely got more anxious and depressed after events occurred, so this break (not hiatus) has helped me recharge after going through a bit for this comic. To end this section on a good note, I’m feeling so much better and I’m recharging absolutely greatly, I even renewed my love for Donnie after a friend drew him 🦐 Sooooo…The JMC is still in good hands.

Bonus Content: The Villain

YosaJae, what is this? This is the section that’s hella new, the place where I show you guys some cool concept art, ideas, and plots that show the origins of the JMC or even scrapped/cut content. Today we’re gonna talk about the villain of Arc 1. Fun fact, two were created at the same time but one of them was finalized to be the primary villain for Arc 1!

(First ever concept art of Archie Gomez)

Here he is! The cat himself, ✨Archie✨ I needed some variety and needed an anthropomorphic character since Rise has lots of their mutants and yokai. Archie was a character that was a lot more serious and hella threatening but he was toned down after more arcs were created. For some reason, I included freckles because I originally thought, “Ginger people…..” then included the freckles to make him more recognizable. Let’s just say that they weren’t as rememberable as I thought because I forgot them after a while-

Fun fact, Archie was originally gonna be a native Spanish speaker but not be able to speak English. The actual conflict was gonna be about the turtles and Archie fighting due to language miscommunication, but it was later scrapped because of the issue with translating each of his sentences and being truly accurate with his dialogue. He also at first was a one off character that would never return, but he was popular that he became the reoccurring bad for Arc 1.

(Archie Gomez Evolution 2022-2024)

Archie had went through a good bit of design changes over the years and I changed him to be more easier to draw by giving him a more unique silhouette by drawing his head as a pentagon instead of a circle. The transition was at first a circle to triangle, but then the shape was too complicated to recreate so I had to go with a pentagon (as an accident at first too). That changed him A LOT but I was hella happy with the way he turned out because he started to look more unique and iconic. Pretty cool, eh~?

Aaaand that’s it! Thank you all for stopping by and coming in to read this update! I hope it was fun to go through and very refreshing. I wanna make my updates more like this instead of what was said above. Especially because this is taking so long, I wanna be able to go over behind the scenes with you all since ya’ll at least deserve that; I can’t keep being mysterious about the comic since it is taking years for it to be made, but it’s trial and error so I gotta do this in order for it to be worth the progress. I’m strong, I can do this! Hopefully your day/night is amazing, and take care until next time 😋🫶💜

[nervarts]

Page 62

I don't think I've ever announced officially (aside from putting it on profile) that I was working on a graphic novel. Well ladies and gentlemen, this is one of the newer pages. I will say it's been ages since I have published an update about the graphic novel. I've been working on it since August 2019. The reason why it is taking me so long is because 2020 killed my muse for it. I got deeply depressed and instead of making pages on a daily basis like I used to, I just drew them sporadically, when I had the inspiration.

Likewise, I had problems drawing more complex scenes like this one (making that crowd was NOT easy.) So I decided to practice a little more on things like drawing large groups of people and perspective. I also realized that as time passed, I made a few mistakes. Like how the kimono is meant to go from left to right instead of right to left 🤦🏽‍♀️ (apparently only dead people wear it that way), among other inconsistencies. I thought I needed to redo the whole thing. Because while the story is vague historically (it takes place between 12th-14th century Japan— just between the late Heian-early Kamakura period), I didn't want to make too many deviations to the point that it becomes insulting to a culture and history that I love. That's the least I want to do. But drawing ALL 62 pages took me forever, so doing them again would undo five years of progress. I might end up redrawing some anyways, but who knows? I want to finish it first, then go through the "editing" process.

I highly doubt the rest of the pages will take me 5 extra years. I want to continue this novel, as it is personal for me. It has been a difficult journey doing this, but I don't want to give up on it. So I will try to draw more pages on a fairly consistent level. I was even thinking of changing the title of the graphic novel. It's called, "Flowers Chasing Horizon". But as you can tell from the scene... it's not going to be a flowery story. I made the title because I love flowers and the story is about two vagabonds of sorts who are escaping from their ghosts, literally and figuratively. Trying to find a place where they can achieve peace. The problem is, I don't know what I should change it to. I'm bad at titles.

I apologize that I haven't given any art for over a month, but this is the only artwork I finished recently. I still have more that I am yet to do, but they are big.

This was done with Micron pens, pencil, and for this graphic novel, the color red plays an important role. I would give context for this piece, but I feel like I would ruin the what's going on. Plus, I want to keep it a surprise too.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Support me on Ko-fi:

[brooklynisher]

Here's a bunch of old sketchbook doodles I made y'all

Stick around bc this includes my first SPG drawings!! (Before I joined Tumblr)

Riveting start

I'll start off with little drawings I made of myself. And my god do you see what I'm doing with the anatomy? Do you see how tiny those joints are? That's horrific. Why did I build everyone like that? But Yugo is where I began to find my art style. Will love them forever for that. I've got to go back to simple-shaped heads one of these days and blush/eyelashes on everything

We've got some lovely Smile For Me-related doodles. First is a Flower Kid design. Second was not smile for me specifically, but Face Love (by the same devs). And the last two were my earlier attempts at making comics and scenes. Ft. lancer for some reason.

Here are a couple of abandoned OCs. Pretty boy (Basil) is supposed to be yellow. We've all had that OC whose only trait was being a hot person and that's what he was all about. Didn't develop him much in terms of character which is sad because I kinda like his design. He was created when I was doodling random designs in FireAlpaca. I'll have to show the other doodles in a different post (If you are interested).

THIS GUY I WOULD LIKE TO BRING BACK! Might be kinda basic in terms of like "Weird Core" designs but I still love him. His plot keeps changing though because his design is so strange yet so simple to the point where I could put him in just about any world I wanted to had I gotten bored of the old one. Which is silly bc he's just a depressed news anchor man.

Anyway bc of that, Basil used to be his bf, but isn't anymore. He got replaced with fat peppermint man who fun fact: was inspired by the song Brass Goggles BEFORE I even got into SPG and learned what it was about! How silly is that! Peppermint boy is technically my first SPG OC!

She was a fun one, but I abandoned her too. I think she was too influenced by Frye's character from Splatoon. She was a warrior of sorts. Sort of tribal I suppose. She spoke fast, and in her tribe's language, so many people struggled to understand her. She was very bouncy too. Jumping all over the place. If you know Frye, you'll probably notice that they're a bit too similar to each other. That's usually why I abandon my OCs. When they're too similar to another.

Critter I doodled. Not really an OC, but I still think she's cute

Don't ask me about the first guy. The girl was a mii that was born in Tomodachi Life! Her name is Lily. She is the child of Kris (Deltarune) and Hatsune Miku. She looks silly which is why I love her.

I'm Picasso. Kinda vibe with this ngl. Not sure if I could ever turn this into anything though

Here are some low-effort doodles. Enjoyed the design of the big lady more than I thought. I was practicing drawing bigger bodies at the time. Joints are still KILLING ME but it's not bad considering I had the worst anatomy method imaginable

Here are some higher-effort doodles. Aside from the abhorrent anatomy (WHY DOES THE PIG ZOMBIE HAVE TWO DIFFERENTLY SIZED SHOULDERSS????) I quite like these critters. That mermaid girl had lore too. She could control the dead of the sea. She was lowkey evil. Never turned her into anything though. Also, you can see by that guy at the bottom of the first one, that Bunny's art was starting to take an influence on me.

Lots of stuff going on over here but LOOK! MY VERY FIRST SPG FANART! IT'S OF VI POINTING AT AN APPLE AND YELLING AT IT

I was inspired by Bunny to make these monster-ish-looking people

More thingies! There's the goopy robot which I initially drew as a first attempt at drawing a robot, but then I made it black and goopy bc that's what it was giving. The star guy appears and disappears a few times. I think I wanted to keep them, but the design was very similar to LightLazer so I felt a bit weird about drawing them.

More robot shenanigans. First time drawing Rabbit and The Spine! Cannot believe that my first Spine drawing was in a dress oh my god.

More Bunny-inspired drawings and I'm REALLY kinda digging that weird tiny robot critter. Looking at it now, it's kinda like Spring in a few ways, but it's also completely different from Spring in so many other ways. The limbs are retractable. I kinda like this thing actually. I Oughtta do something with it.

These ones are more SPG-specific. You'll have to forgive me, most of these are from memory. Don't ask me why Rabbit looks like David Bowie in the first one.

And finally, some Rabbit and Spine doodles! Rabbit's doing the "Hey Andy Sweetie" meme. I could totally reattempt drawing that today actually.

Anyway, hope you had fun. I did. Ugh this is so sillyy

[peoplesrazor]

Someone mentioned this video recently, suggesting it for Ant to react to, and it reminded me of something I wanted to talk about. I won't be covering everything she says, but this is the video where she talks about The Owl House and Luz's trauma. I may make a few other points, but her section on Luz starts at 7.29.

First though, just a quick note about Korra. I was never a big fan of the show, and didn't watch much of it. But I have seen enough, and have watched enough other media, to counter some of her poison here.

So, let's go over torturing the main character. I'm not playing Lily's little game here and purposely using a provocative term. That's an actual writing tip. Torture your main character. Particularly, a morally good character. You have to test them, make them someone who is in danger, who gets hurt, who can fail and still have them not only win, but do so while keeping their morals in tact.

Especially, when your character is something akin to a super hero like Korra. You have to make that torture...well, more torturous. That's my counter for everything she says about Korra. She's the main character, that's why her beatings are shown and other people's aren't, and she's the Avatar, so just getting punched in the nose once is not going to cause a lot of narrative tension.

Once again, you get weird here. There is a point to be made about the way they decided to go with Korra. You could have pointed out that this show put a lot of focus on the Avatar and politics. And you could even make an argument that they didn't handle that well. You could have said that if they were going to go that route, they could have toned down the fighting a bit and not done things like had a killer robot. There have been a few times you have started down that route when talking about this show. Sadly, you always circle back to the scenes of Korra getting beaten and tied up.

Who is it that is really obsessed with the torture here, Lily?

Okay, on to my jam.

I'm not going to bother with the Psych 101 and disorder stuff that she hasn't the background to get into. That shouldn't even be in a video about a cartoon. She even uses text at one point to give advice, and also to admit that that part isn't even criticism. Lily, if you want to make a video about histrionic personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, and why isolating when you're depressed may not be the best thing for you, just make that video. Don't use your minimal knowledge on the subject to diagnose fictional characters.

The sleep paralysis demon Dana Terrace drew isn't real, Lily, it can't hurt you.

I'm going to cut to the chase here, feel free to watch the Luz section to see if you think I'm correct. This basically comes down to Lily preferring season one Luz's trauma response to her response in later seasons. I admit, Luz's take-no-prisoners, I'll do it myself, I don't need your permission to kick butt, response in season one is pretty cool. Especially the way she stands up to Belos in the finale.

You know what season one Luz probably wouldn't have been able to do?

Stare down Belos silently as he melted in the rain. I think early Luz would have had one of two responses. Either she would have tried one last time to save the jerk, or she would have been proactive and been one of the people stomping on his head. She had to go through her own trauma because of him to prevent the first response, and she had to have been given ample time to pull herself out of that trauma to have the sense of self to avoid the second.

And Lily, you gave the impression in your last Owl House podcast that you liked this scene.

Why did her response change? Because she did. She got new information, devasting information, and it changed how she saw herself. That wasn't the start or the end of the burden's weighing on her, though.

Throughout Season Two, she begins to feel more and more pressure. The timeline is pretty morose. Being stuck on the isles. Feeling like a burden. Feeling responsible for what happened to Eda's magic. Her promise to come home and stay. Missing the anniversary of her father's death. Not finding a way to make a new portal. Finding out about helping Belos.

Then she gets separated from Eda and King and her friends are separated from their families. Also, they released a literal child God and don't know what he's doing to everyone they care about. Just more and more and more.

As a result, she pulls back. Little by little she loses some of her positive traits and picks up negative ones. This, is called a negative character arc. As I've said before, it's very unusual for a heroic protagonist to go through this kind of arc. It's even a little ballsy for a cartoon to do so.

So, yeah, they aren't wasting time or getting a thrill by putting Luz through hell. They are giving the audience someone they can relate to. For the kids, it might not hit till the future, for the adults it could be a memory from the past, but for the teenagers? It's what a lot of them maybe going through now. Because, yeah, being 14 feels like you're living in Hell sometimes. Everything that goes wrong feels like it's the end of the world, and you often feel like it's your fault.

My opinion, anyway.

Also, Lily, you clearly liked her first more proactive trauma response better. Cool. Cool. Why then would you talk about her depression arc while showing a scene of her taking Hunter's place so she can face Belos alone? You know. A thing she would have totally done in Season one? That thing she did do in Season one. Did you have trouble finding enough scenes of her being sad to use, because it didn't happen as often as you are claiming?

Asking for a friend.

This ended up being a long one. I might make another post in the future and touch on other stuff related to this. What Lily says about Amity breaking up with Luz because of her behavior. Whether the people around Luz should have confronted her more often and so on.

[cannedbeefaroni]

could i request some burt fableman x fem!reader pleeeease? maybe some soft dom themes if you'd be able to. thank you! <3

oooooohhh ok so i'm using this as an excuse to man a sequel to a burt fic i wrote a while back, but it does follow the request :3 here's the first one in case u wanna read it

Summary: You are a washed up artist who frequents a local bar. One night you meet a familiar face, causing an embarrassing confrontation.

Content: SMUT (MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT), AGE GAP (reader is about 25 and Burt is around 40), Alcohol, drinking, themes of depression, themes of academic failure, a lot of making out and dry humping in a car

Reader is referred to as you/yours but is referred to with feminine terminology

It had been months since you had met that man at the park. It seemed like a dream, and you nearly convinced yourself that it was. Burt… that was his name. You wondered what had been going on with him. You wondered how he’d react to how your life’s been going since you last saw him. His words made a home in your mind, tormenting you everyday. You have so much to look forward to. Don’t talk yourself out of your own happiness… just because you’re scared. You didn’t take his advice. You didn’t even come close to it. You had dropped out of art school. Too much bullshit in your life and at school held you back, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You had no idea why you were ever there in the first place. Art had become a burden to you, but no matter what you always thought fondly of the one time you drew Burt in the park. The scene would replay in your mind over and over every night. Whenever you were bored, you found yourself sketching him. Oddly, this man brought you peace, and you barely even knew him. You wished you had the courage to call him, but you were beyond terrified if he just didn’t want to hear from you again. 

Once a week you’d go out drinking by yourself, and you were aware of how pathetic that looked. It was some small local pub, and you felt comfortable enough being there alone. Though you were depressed, you tried your damned hardest to not rely on alcohol too much. Building that routine for yourself helped you self regulate after everything in your life had gone awry. Although it looked bad for a woman your age to be getting hammered alone at a bar, cussing out everyone around her before falling asleep with her head on the counter. The only times you were extroverted were when you were drunk. After a couple glasses, no one was off the table for conversation. This led to some embarrassing memories, to say the least. Most of the people you’d speak with in slurs were middle aged men in suits having drinks after work. They were often rude or creepy, but you had no qualms with being rude back to them. The bartenders had grown accustomed to your shenanigans, and you had a feeling they didn’t like you very much. 

One night while you were sitting at the bar, you casually looked behind you and saw something that made you want to disappear. It was him. Burt, the man you haven't seen in months, just so happened to walk in. You turned around frantically, praying that he wouldn’t notice you. You quickly became aware of what a mess you’d become, and tried fixing your clothes and hair. Thanks to your luck, Burt chose to sit on the stool right next to you. You shyly turned your head, hoping he wouldn’t recognize you. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to die. Slowly, you swiveled towards him, smiling as awkwardly as ever. You were already getting drunk, but you tried your best to act sober. You look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh, hello… Burt,” you said sheepishly. You just realized you never even got his last name, and you felt you sounded so stupid calling a man his age by his first name. 

He smiled brightly, and you felt your heart jump. “Oh wow, it’s been so long. I missed seeing you around! How are you these days?” he spoke to you like you were his best friend of years, and you felt delusional like you were. 

“I’ve been good,” you lied. “Uh, how have you been?”

“Well, I’ve been quite alright. I’ve just been so busy as of late. I’ve hardly had any time to myself, I’ve just been so engrossed in my work. I’ve actually been meaning to call you for the longest time, I just couldn’t get around to it,” he said in his sunshiney voice. You wanted to scream from how painfully bad you were at smalltalk. You just wanted to tell him the gritty truth, but that wouldn’t paint you in a good light. 

“Yeah, uh, same here,” you said.

“Oh my god, how’ve you been? Have you been making more art? How’s art school?” he beamed, and you winced. 

“Well to be honest-” you were cut off by Burt quickly giving the bartender his order. 

“I’m sorry, please continue,” he turned back to you. 

You sighed, “Yeah, I’ve still been doing art but…” you grimaced as you leaned your head against your fist, feeling dizzy. 

“Has everything been okay?” he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I’m a girl alone at a bar on a Wednesday night, so I don’t think it seems like it,” you laugh at yourself, but quickly stop when he frowns in response. 

“Sweetheart… are you okay?” he leans in, not even paying attention to his drink being placed on the counter in front of him. 

You turned away from him, “I’m fine, it’s just that I dropped out of college and lost all direction in my life, no big deal,” you grinned, pretending like it’s all a funny joke. Your face feels like it's on fire, between the drunkenness and the term of endearment. 

“Wait, what?” he said with concern. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I'll be good company tonight. I should go-” you grab your bag and get up to leave. Burt follows after you, but quickly goes back to the counter to pay for his and your drinks. You walk outside just to see its storming hard. You hide under cover, staring out at the weather like a fool. You didn’t know how you’d get home. Behind you, the door opened, and Burt exited the pub. He stands for a moment and looks out at the rain as well.

“Do you have a ride?” he asked. 

“I’ll just walk,” you answered, defeatedly. 

“You really shouldn’t. You should wait until it clears up a little, at least.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here all night,” you snapped.

“Then I’ll drive you.” 

You stood silently for a moment. 

“Okay.”

The two of you make a run for his car through the storm. You nearly slip and fall, but he grabs your hand, helping you back up. You internally shame yourself for letting your heart flutter at the interaction. The trip through the rain felt never ending, despite only being one block. Once you got into his car,you noticed how cold and wet you’d become. He chuckled at the situation, but you just shivered as you noticed your white shirt had become see-through. You crossed your arms, but then felt Burt placing his jacket around your shoulders. You pulled it over yourself.

“You seem cold…” he whispered.

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief. 

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable tonight… I didn’t realize I’d bother you,” he gently said.

“You didn’t bother me at all… I was… really happy to see you again,” you shrunk into yourself. It all felt so overwhelming. Being in his car, wrapped in his jacket. His scent surrounded you as he sat only inches away. You felt so guilty for having these feelings. They were impossible to ignore.

“Me too,” he smiled softly. “I wanted to catch up with you… but I’m sorry things haven’t been going well.” 

“I thought talking to you would just bring you down. I just have nothing positive to talk about.” You looked down at your lap. 

“That doesn’t matter,” he scoffed. “I really love talking to you. You’d never bring me down.” He smiled at you, and your stomach instantly did backflips. 

“Burt… I don’t know if we should keep talking like this. D-don’t you have a wife or something?” you stutter nervously, feeling yourself fall deeper into delusions of him. 

“Well, you assume I have a wife. The mother of my kids and I have been divorced for years,” he spoke matter-of-fact-ly, but not denying being flirtatious. You stared at the ground intensely, feeling the heat of your face spread to your ears.

“But- I- uh,” you stuttered weakly trying to find something to say. 

“Look, you’re a gorgeous young woman, and any man would be lucky to have you, but don’t you think I’m a little old for you?” he asks. 

“I- I don’t know,” you shriveled up inside his jacket, wanting to die. 

He sighed, “how long have you had these feelings?”

“Since the moment I saw you,” you sulked. 

He looked away from you, out the window, “yeah. Me too,” once the sentence registered in your head, your eyes shot wide open and your gaze slowly shifted to him. “I suppose I have been overly flirtatious with you. I shouldn’t have.” 

All you could do was stare at him blankly. There were so many things you could say at the moment, but you foolishly uttered the words, “please, kiss me,” and he looked back at you with heartbroken eyes. 

“Have you ever… been treated well by a man?” he asked sorrowfully. You couldn’t answer. Either you didn’t know, or you were afraid of admitting it. You looked away shamefully, and you felt his hand graze your cheek before gently holding your face to look at him. “I can show you-“ his thumb caressed over your lips, and his gaze bore deep into yours, “-how a real man is supposed to treat a woman.” His head dips into yours, kissing your lips slowly and gently. It shocked you, but his touch was so delicate that you couldn’t help but ease into it, eagerly welcoming it. Your whole body leaned forward into him, relaxing every muscle in your body. He smelled distinctly of cologne and cigarettes. It was a common scent that you’ve associated with him since the moment you met him. His face felt prickly against your skin, as if he hadn’t shaved in a couple days. It began to sink in, how much you were at his mercy and he was being so kind with you. You felt safe with him. 

He pulled back, fluttering his eyelids open as he asked, “how was that, darling?” 

“Mmh, please, more,” you mumbled, wrapping your hands around his neck to pull him back into the kiss. He chuckled softly against your lips, making you grin. His hands moved towards your body, resting on your waist, pulling you closer. His grip on you was firm, and it made you whimper slightly at the sudden feeling. You lost your composure quickly, parting your lips and pushing your tongue into his mouth. Instantly, he reciprocated, sliding his into your mouth too. You were shocked at the extent of how dirty a good man like him could become. He knew exactly how to kiss you, and how to react to every movement of your body. Your legs shut tightly and your hips were bucking out of sexual frustration. Burt noticed, and pulled back as his hands slid down to your hips. 

“Aren’t you an eager little thing?” he grinned, teasing you. “Come on, shouldn’t I be getting you home by now?” 

“No!” you reacted on instinct, feeling your stomach drop at the thought of this stopping. You cling to his body, burying your face in his shoulder, and you feel so immature and needy. 

“Poor thing,” he cooed at you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You thought back to the first time he hugged you back then, and how awkward it was. Now your body was tightly pressed up against his. “What do you want to do?” he looked down at you as his hand grazed under your chin, lifting your face. You looked up at him speechlessly. “Please use your words, pretty girl.” 

You blush deeply, trying to look away, but his hand holds you in place. “I just- I want to be with you… for as long as you’ll let me.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” he grins, caressing his thumb over your lip, “That’s exactly what I want too.” He pulls you in closer to kiss you again. You keep going, crawling up into his lap to be as close as possible. Your skirt hikes up, but you try pulling it down to remain somewhat modest. His hums stutter in reaction, and his grip on your waist tightens. You become increasingly vocal from the feeling of being sat on his lap, feeling the muscles in his thighs flex underneath you. You think about how dangerously close your crotches are in proximity, and you subtly move your hips up, trying to close the gap. Burt continues to make out with you with an increasing hunger, groaning against your lips. His hands move down to your hips, inching close to your ass. He grips you firmly and pulls you up, causing your crotch to rub up against his. You whine at the sudden stimulation, and he chuckles softly at your reaction. He slumps down against the seat to buck his hips upward, pulling you down with him. Now you could clearly feel how hard his bulge has gotten. He grabs your ass, humping you at a steady speed. Your skirt has hiked up to the point where you’re worried he can see your panties, or worse, see how wet they’ve already become. 

“Such a beautiful voice,” he whispers against your lips, as one of his hands drag up your body to lace his fingers through your hair. His other hand rests on your lower back, feeling you thrust against him. He lays still, letting you grind on him, getting yourself off. “You poor thing… so pent up,” he whispers in your ear as your head buries into the dip of his neck. “Such a dirty girl… trying to get off in my lap,” his lips graze the side of your face, and you whine in response to his teasing. “You can’t possibly finish from just this, can you?” he smirks, kissing your cheek feverishly. His dirty talk keeps pushing you closer to your release, and he can tell. 

“Please, please,” you beg, unable to think of anything else to say. He kept grabbing you tightly as if he were yours, making you feel like his life revolved around you. For a moment you wanted to believe it was true. 

“What is it you want, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly, his lips on the corner of your mouth. 

“P-please, let me come,” you cry. 

“You can do it. Come for me, darling,” he whispers before connecting his lips back to yours, muffling your squeals of pleasure, as his words were all you needed. The muscles in your lower half all clench as you come undone. Your legs tremor and your pelvis presses tightly up against his body. Your panties are overflowing, and for a second you worry that you’ve soiled his pants as well. He pulls back, watching as you pant breathlessly, holding your face gently. 

“Such a good girl,” he praises you, grinning. You rest your head on his shoulder, your body sinking into his. He caresses your back slowly, soothing you. You noticed how soft and warm he was, feeling the heat of his skin through his button up over his pudgy stomach. He kisses you sweetly, before asking, “what am I going to do with you?”

[herefortarlos]

hey desi! it's nice ask week, i hope you're well and don't mind me coming into your inbox :)

what's your favorite lone star episode?

who is your all time comfort character?

what's your favorite song/album right now?

Hello my sweetest, Rachel 💖!! Sweetie, the day I mind you coming into my inbox will be the day I am no longer a pansexual liberal, so not a chance of that ever happening 😂.

Ohh why would you ask me that!! Okay, favorite overall Lone Star episode, and not just for 1 or 2 scenes, has to be 3x13 "Riddle of the Sphynx". That episode just gave us sooo much good Tarlos! We got supportive and jealous/sassy and then understanding Carlos. We got TK attending meetings and doing what he has to do to take care of himself! We got so much tarlos physical affection and that amazing dining table scene!! I recently watched that episode again and that scene blows me away every time, Ronen and Rafa acted their butts off! We get tarlos communicating, even if it's messy communication at first, and so many iconic lines!! "It feels like he's getting pieces of you that I don't" "You don't want those pieces" "I do, I want all of it" "You have all of me, Carlos." Just throw me off a bridge why don't you 🥲, and it's one of the few episodes where I know all the tarlos dialogue word for word. @heartstringsduet are you proud of me 😊. Then TK being affected in the field and being depressed about his own mom, looking at photos telling Carlos, "I'd give anything to feel like that again", and Carlos realizes he is in way over his head and that this isn't about him, it's about TK and what he needs so Carlos gets over that insecurity and reaches out and makes sure TK has the support he needs 🥹 And then the infamous "I love you" with TK "Heart Eyes" Strand and Carlos' understanding "I know." Every tarlos scene in this from beginning to end of episode is amazing and impactful and leaves me an emotional mess every time I watch it 💖

who is your all time comfort character?

All time comfort character you ask? 🤔 After thinking about all the fandoms I've enjoyed and been a part of over the years, please don't come at me for saying the obvious of TK 😅. He's the first live action character that I have loved this much, and there are so many reasons for that! One of the biggest being how he has been through so much hardship in his life but he is so unselfish and sees the best in people and still has so much love to give!! He is sunshine personified but he is still very much a real person with flaws and baggage, but he is constantly working to take care of himself and be a better person! I've had similar, not exact of course, experiences in my own life and have come out the other side better for it! It took a lot of time of course and I needed to be in a place where I had the power to make my own decisions and I love that about TK too, that the show constantly shows that his decisions to get better have ultimately been his own! And him being an openly gay character who is proud of his sexuality was primarily what drew me to him and the show in the first place 🥰

what's your favorite song/album right now?

Ohh always love a music question! Haha and probably not what you're expecting but my favorite album lately has been Bo Burnham's "Inside (Deluxe)" edition. It's such a fantastic special and I watched the deleted scenes not too long ago and have not been able to stop listening to "Five Years". The chorus is so damn catchy and I wish it was longer and the line "Everyone's a feminist until there is a spider around" makes me laugh every time 🤣.