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legionofpotatoes · 3 years ago

Note

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

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milk-carton-whump · 4 years ago

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Ritz the Bandit Masterlist

The wild west was filled with all kinds of whumpy scenarios, one such cowboy is a bandit named Ritz who tends to find himself in all kinds of situations. No real storyline. Beautiful moodboard by: @abitefullofwhump

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Visual Ref: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Fanart: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Songs

Stories

Ritz AU Masterlist

A Gift for Ritz

Captured Bandit

Ritz the Cattle Thief

Branded Cowboy

Ritz and Boots

Ritz is Cold

Witt's Bandit

POV: Echo

POV: Echo - Sleepy Cowboy

Ritz Takes a Walk

Breaking Horses

Bandit on your Doorstep

Kiss and Tell (nsfw)

Between a Rock & a Hard Place

All Alone

Ritz discusses being Painted

Ritz Out Cold

A New Friend

Flower Crowns (fluff)

Let Sleeping Cowboys Lie (fluff)

Cowboy Anon Appreciation Day

Sweethearts (non Canon, major character death)

Percy's Hurt

Hogtied!

Stuck in the Middle 1 / Stuck in the Middle 2 / Stuck in the Middle 3 / Stuck in the Middle 4 / Stuck in the Middle 5 / Stuck in the Middle 6 / Stuck in the Middle 7

Match made in Heaven

Cowboy & Pirate

Sea Cowboy

Pirate in the West (unicornscotty)

Jail Fish

Captain Victor gets what's coming to him (unicornscotty, Ritz Whumper)

Asks/Slice of Life

Witt's Kiss (AU) / Witt's Generosity (AU) / Tis a Flesh Wound / Sandstorm / Witt's Kiss 2 (AU) / Ritz's Sleeping Habits / Ritz and Model Jokes (AU) / Echo Info / Ritz's Nightmare / Catboy (AU) / Big Beautiful Bruises (AU) / Ritz's Wrists / Anniversary (AU) / Percy's Punishment

#cowboy whump #ritz #oc #masterlist #cowboy masterlist #witt #echo

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clarionglass · 5 years ago

Photo

so i’ve spent the last month falling headfirst into the magnus archives, and i’ve rapidly been coming to the conclusion that jonathan sims the archivist needs a hug and a rest, because he sure ain’t gonna get that in the series. hence i have applied my crochet “skills” to the creation of a tiny jon who can indeed get hugs when required! i worked on him while listening to tma, so hopefully some of the Jon Spirit (tm) has transferred into him....... i stand him in my room when i’m practising so it does kinda feel like he’s watching me, so maybe it worked? still, no nightmares, so i think tiny jon appreciates the hugs and the lack of apocalypse in his current situation

(yes i am going to make a crochet martin too, this is an absolute necessity. i’m just slightly less confident on his design so i’m being a bit reticent in starting him out....... if anyone has hard-and-fast This Is How Martin Should Look ideas then send em through)

there’s no exact pattern for “jon from tma” that i’ve been able to find, so this jon has been ganked out of some basics by allison hoffman (craftyiscool) on ravelry, and some common themes in fanart. credit where it’s due, i may have done the actual crocheting but boy he wouldn’t be nearly as good without all the work other people have done that i was able to draw on :)

more details on the making, and on each photo in the sequence, under the read more!

The Making of Tiny Jon

as above, tiny jon was ganked out of a few different amigurumi patterns by allison hoffman, with modifications by me as felt appropriate. the patterns i used are for worsted weight/10ply yarn, which is hard to get here, so the transition to using a few different brands of 8ply required a bit of messing about with. still, i think it was pretty successful! he stands upright without help, which is a first for me when using this kind of pattern.

i’m honestly not sure where in the tma timeline he comes from. he has the post s1 and s3 scars visible, and in my heart, even though he’s just yarn, he has all of jon’s knowledge up to date, but he;s slightly too put-together looking for current jon. practically, giving him a ponytail wouldn’t have worked with the mass of yarn, and although i would have liked to give him a bit of facial scruff, i can’t crochet or embroider that convincingly. if any experienced crocheters out there have some tips, i’m happy to learn! let’s just call him a s5 mind in an early s3 body and be done with it. it’s my crochet, i can do what i want :)

the saddest day came when it was time to embroider those lil scars on his arms and hand... they kinda show up in some of the photos (see Tiny Jon Selects A Statement), but even if they’re not massively noticeable, i had to include them

there is a small green eye embroidered on the inside of his sweater vest, to sit just over his heart. it’s secret and nobody will ever see it, but it’s there.

pic 1: Tiny Jon

nothing much to say about this one aye. but there he is!

pic 2: Tiny Jon Sits On The Bookshelf

he works in an archive, and we have some fancy leather-bound books. i had to combine the two! plus it’s a nod to that good ol oxford pretension

pic 3: Tiny Jon Harbours Destructive Thoughts Re A Pile Of Potential Leitners

these are all books i own, selected for potential leitner-ness based on either title or content. neverwhere and picnic at hanging rock were selected on content (both the spiral), but you should be able to tell which entity applies to all the others (altho valley of fear is generic). doomsday book, though, despite the title, is not an end leitner, but is in fact a corruption leitner. i read this years ago, and remembered that it’s about a historian from the future (the 2050s, actually) going back in time to research the black death, with predictable tragedy. i forgot, however, that the b plot deals with a new flu-like pandemic in the “current day”...... eerily relevant, and also definitely open to be leitner-ised. tiny jon thinks so too, hence the matches.

pic 4: Tiny Jon Selects A Statement

again, self-explanatory.

pic 5: Tiny Jon Reads A Statement

it took me for-fkn-ever to mock up that tiny statement on magnus institute notepaper. it’s a 4-and-a-half page genuine statement written by yours truly, not just some squiggled-on pages or a shopping list or something, and is a mildly fictionalised version of something that has actually happened to me. if you can somehow strain your eyes and read it (would not recommend, i don’t think it’s actually possible), names and places have most definitely been changed because of my paranoia

i realise there is no tape recorder in shot! for the purposes of “canon” let’s just say that there is one on his desk, just out of shot. in reality, i’ll probably get around to making one out of polymer clay someday, but for the moment i just could not be arsed, and i was too impatient to delay the cute shot :)

pics 6-9: Tiny Jon Makes A Cuppa

in the absence of martin, tiny jon has to make his own tea.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #the archivist #the eye #the beholding #rusty quill #rusty quill tma #crochet #look it'd be nice for this to get noticed in the tma tag so i'm tagging it with every single thing i can lol #i'm proud of my work okay #hey anil the rq community manager if you see this i'd be absolutely heckin stoked #clari speaks #and hell let's make a tag for this sorta thing bc if i'm gonna be doing a martin i'll be putting more photos up #so let's go #clari makes

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plainsight6578 · 4 years ago

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Self-indulgent IwaOi fic because I was sad

This fic was based of a fanart by @ / marikdraw. Check them out their art is amazing!!!

Characters: Oikawa x Iwaizumi

TW: depression ???, just general self-loathing, though nothing too serious.

Genre: angsty but it turns into fluff at the end

Summary: Oikawa thinks he’s not enough. Iwaizumi shows him that he is.

Word count: 1,762

A/N: i hc that oikawa has MDD i dont make the rules... but i do

pâro

n. the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, “colder, colder, colder…”

Since he was little, Oikawa was showered with endless praise and compliments.

"Wow! he's that good and only a first year?"

"You're going to make it very far!"

"You have so much potential, Oikawa!"

No one was better than him. He was unstoppable. Unbeatable. He was, in every sense, the great king of the court.

"Oikawa-san, you work so hard!"

"Slow down, Trashy-kawa"

Those remarks from his teammates only fueled his unending hunger for greatness. But, with high status comes high expectations. And Oikawa did everything in his power to live up to those expectations. 'Just a few more,' 'just a little bit further,' 'just a little more,' more, more, more. He never seemed to be satisfied with his own efforts. Fearing that his hours of extra practice would betray him when he needed it most. So, he always did more, more, more. He didn't stop until he physically couldn't anymore.

On more than one occasion his teammates have walked in on a passed-out Oikawa, who had exerted too much of himself before practice had even started. He knew this wasn't healthy. He knew his body wouldn't be able to keep up. But no one, not even his already injured knee, could stop him. Because, as he found out, he wasn't the best. Not by a long shot.

When he first met Kageyama, Oikawa's first instinct was to crush him. He wanted to push the younger boy so far down that he would give up on trying to get back up. Because inside his heart, he knew that he could never beat him. Kageyama was born a genius. Volleyball was natural for him. Oikawa had to mold himself to get to where he was, while people like Kageyama were born miles ahead, with all the instincts for the sport instilled into their DNA. He could never hope to be overtake Kageyama when he already had such a large head-start. He knew it, but he refused to accept it.

And then, in his third and final year of high school, the spring tournament came. Everything, all his efforts, lead up to this moment. It was almost poetic that he has to face off against his former kouhai who had challenged him so much in middle school.

And then... by some miracle, they won. He won. Oikawa had actually beat the "king of the court". Finally, he felt like he was catching up. Oikawa was no longer struggling on an unfamiliar path that others had already crossed, he was struggling side-by-side with them. After nearly 18 years of his life, he finally felt like he was on an equal playing field with the others. Maybe, just maybe, all his extra hours of practice, all those bailing on gatherings with friends and nearly failing his subjects in school just to squeeze in a few more laps or serves... All of those sacrifices he made, weren't for nothing. His hard work was finally paying off. He was on a high no one could bring him down from.

And then they lost to Shiratorizawa.

He couldn't seem to fully grasp the reality of it yet. To him, it didn't make sense how Ushiwaka could beat him. He did everything right. every choice he made was the right one. Every toss went exactly where it needed to score. The entire team was at the top of their game. There was nothing else they could have done. They tried their hardest. So, why didn't they win?! Why had they lost? Clearly, it was Oikawa's fault. he was both the setter and the captain, meaning he held most of the responsibility for their loss. That's how it was in his eyes, at least. It had to be his fault; it was no one else's. This loss had dragged Oikawa from his high all the way down to rock bottom, and then kicked him down some more.

As Oikawa sat in the changing rooms after the game, he contemplated every single day he spent not training. All those lunch breaks he let his fan-girls distract him, every damn time he told himself he was "too tired" or "not in the mood" to practice. Those scenes flashed in his mind like nightmares. Tears threatened to slip from his eyes as he fought for some control over his emotions. He was so caught up in his misery that he failed to notice the sound of Iwaizumi's footsteps coming in.

"Oi, trashy-kawa!" He yelled. Startled, Oikawa looked up to see Iwaizumi scowling down at him, "the bus is leaving soon, what the hell is taking you so damn long?" He asked, less aggressively than usual, taking into consideration their current situation and the tears that pricked at Oikawa's eyes. Their loss also weighed heavy on Iwaizumi's shoulders; he was slouching a tiny bit more than usual, and he didn't really have the energy in him to yell at Oikawa like he normally would have.

Of course, Iwaizumi was beating himself up too; there was a ton of spikes and serves he'd missed during the match, and he knew the rest of the team was thinking the same things about themselves.

"I'm sorry..." Oikawa mumbled, barely loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear, "it was my fault we lost. I should have trained mo-"

"More? You're the one that did the most out of all us, stop regretting the things you didn't do," Iwaizumi had cut him off. He had now taken a seat right next to the bench Oikawa was sat on. Oikawa clenched his teeth. He didn't know why but he was getting angry. He wanted Iwaizumi to yell at him, tell him that he failed as their setter and captain, and most importantly as his friend. "Don't say that. We both know I should have tried harder," he spat back.

"Are you saying that you slacked off during the match?" Iwaizumi asked.

"Huh?! Of course not!"

"Then you did your best didn't you? We all did. That's all that mat-"

"THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, THOUGH!" Oikawa had snapped. His self-loathing had reached its peak. He couldn't stand Iwaizumi's lies anymore. Why wasn't he blaming him?! It was Oikawa's fault that they lost, right? So, why wasn't Iwaizumi angry?! Oikawa had long forgotten to stop himself from crying, and now every word he said as accompanied with the tears that flew down his face. "THEY SAW THROUGH ALL OF MY ATTACKS! THEY MANAGED TO RETURN MOST OF MY SERVES! I SHOULD HAVE TRAINED MORE! I SHOULD HAVE PRACTICED HARDER! I COULDNT MAKE IT IN TIME! I-" Oikawa's voice broke, "I wasn't enough for you..." He looked away. He couldn't stand to see Iwaizumi's face right now.

Earlier in their third year, the pair had promised each other that they would play on the same court for as long as possible. They would continue to win so they could keep playing volleyball together. And then, they would win nationals. side-by-side. Like they've always been.

When they'd lost against Shiratorizawa, Oikawa felt like he'd broken that promise. He was ready for Iwaizumi to yell at him about how disappointed he was, about how much he was let down by him... He waited... But nothing happened. Oikawa slowly turned his gaze back up to Iwaizumi and his breath hitched in his throat. Iwaizumi had tears in his eyes and his fists were clenched.

Oikawas heart immediately stopped. Of course, he would be the one to make his best friend cry. The sight of it made his heart ache. He didn't know what to do so he just sat where he was and looked away.

Iwaizumi said nothing; he simply bent down on the floor and placed the smallest little kiss onto Oikawa's injured knee. Oikawas heart started pounding. In that moment, he remembered why he'd been pushing himself so hard. Why he wanted to keep going even if his lungs were screaming out in pain. It was because of him; because of Iwaizumi. Because he wanted to play with him for as long as he could.

"You are so much more than enough, Tooru," Iwaizumi's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked up at Oikawa, who now had stopped crying, but his face was decorated with a bright blush that went up to his ears.

And, although Iwaizumi didn't say anything else after that, the look in his eyes told Oikawa everything he needed to know: 'it's not your fault, you did your best and we all know that, no one blames you.'

A weight had been lifted off Oikawa’s shoulders; all those pent-up feelings of never being good enough seemed to melt away in the blink of an eye - in a way only Iwaizumi could do. He was so overwhelmed with so many feelings that all he could do was laugh as the relief set in. Iwaizumi, who was confused at first but then offered a soft smile, reached up to grab Oikawa's neck, and then proceeded to lean in for a kiss. Iwaizumi was about to pull away when Oikawa deepened the kiss by leaning down further and grabbing the hem of the other man's shirt. He could never put into words how thankful he was for Iwaizumi, so he was showing him. Likewise, that kiss was meant to reinforce how much Iwaizumi wanted to tell the other man, how hard he worked and how much of an inspiration he was to him and everyone around him, and he wanted to keep reminding Oikawa of just how much he meant to him for the rest of his life.

When they pulled away, Oikawa wore the brightest smile on his face that Iwaizumi had ever seen; he'd also realized that, in the weeks leading up to the tournament, he didn't see Oikawa smiling much. He didn't realize how much he’d missed that smile. Iwaizumi couldn't hide his giddiness either.

"If I'm going to get this treatment every time we lose, I'm gonna start losing a lot more," Oikawa joked.

"You better not!" Iwaizumi replied, his usual scowl evident on his face, but smiled at the implication that there were going to be more matches in the future.

And Oikawa, although still upset over the loss, had realized that he could be okay with losing if it meant Iwaizumi was there for him.

____________________________________________

A/N: tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed UvU! This is the first fic I’m actually posting. If you have any criticism/feedback lmk!! I did proofread this but there might be some mistakes that I missed, if there is I’m sorry e.e’.

#iwaoi #iwaizumi x oikawa #haikyuu fanfiction #iwaoi fluff #oikawa angst

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mysticmissexplosion · 3 years ago

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Don't know why, but i was watching the ending scene of the recap episode of fullmetal alchemist brotherhood on youtube, and there I got major Balan/Claude vibes.

There are Ethereal Moon's and FMAB's spoilers, but hear me out if you don't care:

Balan is like Hohenheim--sometimes feeling in despair because of the weight of your knowledge and feeling like you have to do everything by yourself but never actually capable to do a thing alone and so, feeling powerless.

"No matter how hard you try, no one will accept you anymore!", it's what "Father" tells Hohenheim in this recap episode.

Balan hates killing people, but she won't hesitate to try, if it means protecting Jeralt, the twins, her students. But she also doesn't want to share anything to anyone because she doesn't want to admit this contradictory nature of hers. Who wants to admit out loud that they would kill, even if they hates it, to keep you safe? One thing is killing for work--even if you still have nightmares haunting your nights sometimes--, another is killing because you want and have to. No matter the reason.

And then, Hohenheim lets himself sit down, wide eyes, heavily breathing, thinking that "Father" is right. Humans are weak. They won't change, ever. Would something really change, if you meddle? If you try to help them?

Balan, in future chapters, near the end of part one, will have a huge breakdown and panic attack because of something that happens completely not according to plan. And she lets herself sit down in her office, wide eyes, heavily breathing, a complete mess. For a moment she hesitates. Why should she continue? It's useless, completely hopeless.

Both their hands trembles. Like Hohenheim is haunted by the words of "Father", Balan is haunted by the words her mother would always tell her in her previous life ("that useless girl!").

And in that moment, just when they hit rock bottom... someone gently takes their hands.

Trisha tenderly takes Hohenheim's hands, pulling him up. "We can change. We'll be able to change. I'm sure of it. We really are weak creatures, but that's why we can strive to become stronger. Even if you feel it's useless, each step we take leads to something great".

Who takes Balan's hands? Who pulls her up? Of course, it's Claude. I feel like he really would say those exact words to her. And then, he reminds her that she's his teach, he trust her. He wouldn't think bad of her, ever. Nor disappointed. And if she's not capable to do something alone, then sharing her weight with him could help--maybe together, they could find the perfect solution.

(Trisha/Claude) "Humans try their best to live and end up becoming stronger. If your heart is still hesitating... try to remember"

(Trisha) "...the days you spent in Resembool with us"

(Claude) "...the days you spent in Garrech Mach, teaching us"

And so, both Hohenheim and Balan stares at them wide eyes, but this time they remember. The happy times. The good times. The smiles, the laughs. And maybe they really were right. They could.

And then there's the lyrics of the ending, Let it all out by Fukuhara Miho, that we can hear in the background:

"We'll hold out our small hands and together find stardust and search for an eternity that glows so brightly. Farewells may come one day but still, the seasons will come and go. Even if I lose my direction a little, I'll walk... I'll walk with you. That's the one thing will never change".

____

God, the late hour makes me emotional

I soooo want a fanart of this Claude/Balan. It's a shame I'm not good at drawing...

#fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 3h #fanfiction ethereal moon #van hohenheim #trisha elric #claude von riegan #original female character #balan eisner #claude von riegan x oc #i'm kinda emotional #i don't know what i wanted to do #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

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starstruckmyths · 4 years ago

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Captain America & The Winter Soldier

The internet’s favorite duo of all time.

The biggest cliffhanger of ‘will they won’t they’.

And the best superheroes in town.

|X|

The thing is, Steve liked Bucky. He liked the tough looking man with the metal arm who bore such a gentle smile. He liked the thick strands of hair that fluttered around his face while he strutted in a way that could charm rocks, and he wished to run his fingers through those locks.

He liked Bucky, but even though the internet was sure they were meant to end up together, Steve knew that it would never be true. Bucky just did not like him that way, and Steve knew that with his nightmares and problems he would only be a burden to a man who had been through so much.

So, all the young blond could do was sigh as he looked up manips and edits of his and Bucky’s pictures, albeit always in mask. He smiled softly when he saw the beautiful fanart, where their faces were never showed, but their love was so clear.

|X|

The thing is, Bucky liked Steve. He liked the tough looking man with the quick moves of a deadly dancer, his arms strong enough to throw a car yet gentle enough to cuddle puppies. He liked those heavenly blue eyes, and that little dimple in Steve’s cheek. And oh, how he wished to kiss those cherry red plump lips senseless.

He liked Steve, but he knew that they were not meant to be, despite of what the internet said. Bucky was a hardened soldier rescued out of the clutches of HYDRA, the very organization Steve had fought so hard to weed out. He was the very reminder that Steve had plummeted into the arctic all those years ago for nothing at all. A kind of reminder that must have Steve’s heart in shreds.

So, all the young brunet could do was sigh as he listened to sad songs of Taylor Swift and wished it could have been different. He looked at the stories online, and read about himself and Steve doing things that he dreamed off every day, knowing it would never happen.

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years ago

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First of all!! Loved the MoU fic update! left you a comment on AO3 and all. 10/10 ratings haha.

Secondly, moving countries is great you should try if you ever get a chance. I've always wanted to do that and jumped in on the first opportunity I got to make that dream come true, and I recgozine how lucky I am to be able to do so. It's definitely not easy but I'd do it again if I could (in true sag fashion 😎 haha). Where would you want to live? You ever been outside the UK?

Hahaha you and I in a team would be a nightmare to play against I think. Oh come on you absolutely do not deserve people questioning your intelligence! I like to play dumb in addition to the taunting so people underestimate me, they never see it coming when I win. They never see the cheating coming either, my friends are always shocked when they find out, but I do it almost every single time! 😂 I'm competitive too but I like to play it cool especially If I lose I'll be like "it's just a game calm down yall" but if I win I'm like "in your face losers!" (very mature I know).

I love your drunken story, though does sound like it was very dangerous so I'm glad nothing bad happened to you two! Ah I love yalls nordern accent (me and everyone in this fandom 😂) haha your friend's sense of humor is golden.👌 I'm glad you enjoyed my worst drunken experience, that was the last time I did something like that, I felt bad bc my best friend had to take care of me the whole night and you're right she should've told me it was just a rock! Lucky you you didn't get a hangover the day after, I certainly regretted drinking too much that night however fun it might have been haha.

Like I said before your niece is a really cool kid haha I'm glad you have someone to talk to about Bly Manor, don't know anyone who watches the show and my friends don't like scary stuff so I have to talk to myself about it 😂 and now you! Thank you for entertaining me ;) and I only watch the parts I really like now, I'm tired of crying every time I watch the whole show haha.

Do you do random accents really badly like Dani too? 😂 it is kinda funny your mom said it like that yeah hahaha maybe she just meant the good bits? And I mean, do you think you need help? Lol

I have a sneak peek of that damie fanart here, don't think I'll ever finish it tho. I want to do a medieval AU inspired fanart. Maybe it will also inspire someone to pick up the idea and write it haha.

How's your weekend been so far? My neighbor is making me watch Grey's Anatomy season (???) 500 idk but I wish I was reading that pirate AU instead 😂

Awwh thank you so much!! I will get around to replying to the comment on AO3 tomorrow when I reply to the others I've had a very busy day today though so haven't even had chance to read any comments yet but thank you so much for giving it a 10/10!! I wanna do it as soon as I get chance but I know it's gonna be hard and that I am gonna need a bit more money behind me first but I definitely wanna do it when I can... yeah I've been out of the UK twice- one time I went to France for the weekend when I was doing my A Levels and was like 17 the college I was studying at took some of the art kids and since I was doing a photography A Level I got to go and then a couple of years ago I went to LA for a few weeks which was great but I've never been out of the UK for longer than that!! A nightmare for everyone else but it would be hilarious for us I just know it would haha... I sometimes do I have said some dumb things, I actually used one of my dumber moments as a funny little story in one of my fics- people still laugh at me now for what I said and it's been 10 years... my roommate will not let me live it down!! See surprising people that way is always brilliant like when people just expect you to lose and then you win? That's the best kind of win in my eyes!! I don't cheat at games I am just ridiculously competitive and can't stand losing unless it's something like a video game I am okay with losing those but board games I can't stand losing and I am also a terrible winner my roommate won't play games with me anymore!! I can't say anything about anyone being that kind of a winner because I know I am and one of my sister's is terrible too we literally make a song and dance over winning Oh it was so dangerous and we were so dumb to do it like anything could've happened and we both sit and look back at that and go "man we were dumb" but I also sit and go "oh my god she's gonna be a mum in like 4 months" because we've done some crazy / stupid stuff!! My roommate is without a doubt one of the funniest people I have ever met and she's not afraid to tell it how it is... I'll admit because I have a Northern accent Jamie is like the only character on Bly Manor to not have an accent to me so when I hear people talking about her accent I'm always a little like "what?" Because to me that's just how people talk around here haha I did enjoy your drunken story and honestly we've all been there I have had to be taken care of on more than one occasion for being too drunk like to the point of people having to help me into my pyjamas and everything I've been in some bad ways haha!! She should've definitely told you it was just a rock and not a turtle!! Yeah I've only had one hangover and that was after a night of drinking where I blacked out and don't remember any of the night!! Yeah the night of the drinking is always fun- the hangover isn't though and often makes you wonder if it was worth it haha She's so cool like genuinely just a cool and funny kid and she just asks all the questions about shows she's watched so with me its Bly Manor with her mum and dad it's Stranger Things she asked me about it once but I had to tell her I'd never watched it she didn't seem impressed but yeah I'll talk to her about Bly Manor any day of the week- and you too now honestly I will talk about it to anyone that will listen... I can't not watch it all if I watch it because there's just so much about it that I love even if it makes me cry... episodes 4,6, and 8 are my favourites though and are probably the ones I have watched the most!! Yeah I do random accents all the time and they're always terrible but I always find myself really funny- I had this friend at Uni that had a slight southern English accent because he had spent most of his childhood there before moving up north and he still said certain words in a southern accent and I used to do his accent all the time but it was always terrible!! Oh yeah my mum is pretty blunt with stuff like she'll say things sometimes without thinking about how it sounds that or she just doesn't care like she's said

somethings haha I am sure she did mean the Dani thing in a nice way though because she said she liked her- Dani and Owen were her favourites and I mean some help for me wouldn't be a terrible thing I'll admit haha That fan art is incredible!! Like seriously amazing!! I would love to see some medieval fan art for Damie!! I have been sent a few medieval prompts for Damie and I have started writing some of them but it's taking time to actually get full chapters together but once I have and once I have more time from wrapping up other WIPs I'll make a start on editing and uploading those because medieval stuff is always great!! It's been good thank so far today I went to a little beach town with my mum, 2 of my sisters their partners and two of my nieces (my cool niece was one of them… not that my other niece isn’t cool but you know what I mean) and me, my two brother in laws, and my nieces all played a game of crazy golf while my mum and sisters went to a cafe and had cups of tea... they didn't wanna play with us but we still had fun while we played (I came second which I was very happy with)!! I hope you enjoy Grey's Anatomy and that you get chance to read the pirate AU soon!! It's soo good!! ☺️

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stillebesat · 5 years ago

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White Lies (2/5)

Sanders Sides: Deceit, Virgil, Logan, Roman, Patton Sequel to Little Lies Blurb: Deceit has been stuck in his ‘role’ as Dilyn for almost a year now. It’s about time he changed that. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Tiny!Sides Inspiration: From @yay-cats9‘s wonderful Fanart she did for Little Lies. <3 Again thank you for the artwork! I love it! Overall Fic Warnings: Deceit, Negative Self Talk, Panic/Anxiety Attacks

To Catch Up: Chapter 1

Such a child.

Dilyn rested his head against his knees, pressing his burning eyes against the soft fabric of the circus tent of a cape, breath hitching no matter how hard he tried to gain control of himself.

Such a fool.

Fresh tears welled, running down his cheeks as he sniffed, rubbing mucus all over his grown up uniform, shivering in the darkness.

He’d been an idiot to believe--believe that wishing on a stupid star of Roey’s making would--would change him back.

Some Gatekeeper, unable to tell your truths from your lies.

And hadn’t wishing on a fake star been one of the bigger lies he’d told to the others when they were younger?

Dilyn hunched his shoulders. He’d been a child too long. Been caught up in the act. Been--been believing that a stupid little wish would--would--

Thomas doesn’t need Deceit. That’s a Fact.

A soft whimper left his lips as he curled up tighter. He would--would need to head back inside soon. Get---get back to bed like--like the good Dilyn was supposed to be. Not Le--let--the others--th-they couldn’t kno-know that he’d--tried--tried this stupid wishing thing. He shouldn’t--

“Dilyn?” A familiar voice asked in a low tone. “What are you doing--”

Dilyn stiffened. Virgil. How long had he been up here?! He couldn’t see him like this!

He grabbed at the air in a knee jerk reaction to silence Anxiety. To get him to--

Idiot.

It doesn’t work for them.

Dilyn dropped his hand before finishing the gesture, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t been able to silence the Big Four since--since---

Dilyn whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Powerless.

Some Gatekeeper.

Useless.

“Dee?”

There had been a time when the barest hint of being willing to silence him would have sent Annie fleeing from Deceit’s presence.

Some Gatekeeper.

Dilyn choked back another sob, burying his head deeper into the folds of his cape. Those days were long gone. Annie rarely cowered since he’d joined the Light Sides. Since he’d been accepted by Thomas.

Thomas will never accept you.

You’ll be a child forever.

He tensed as Virgil sat down next to him. Why was he still here? Annie didn’t care about him. He only went along with disguising himself as Deceit in order to protect Thomas from the Others. He should be back downstairs celebrating the New Year with Roey, Morey, and Logie.

He should be celebrating that Deceit wasn’t there to terrorize and ruin the night. Ruin another year.

“You remember when we used to come up here as kids?” Annie asked as the banging of pots and pans below finally faded away.

Dilyn’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the tent that was his cape. “No.” He lied, gritting his teeth to keep himself from saying more. If he didn’t talk to Annie then he would have no reason to stay and would leave him alone.

Virgil scoffed, tapped his fingers against the boards. “I’m surprised.” He remarked. “You were the one who brought me up here when we were…what? Five?”

Five? No. He’d tried to do so back then, but Annie had been far too entrenched in the subconscious to convince him that year. “Six.” He whispered.

It had been a nightmare getting the darkling up here. Each step had taken an eternity to take because Anxiety had been convinced that every shifting shadow was one of the Big Three descending on them to banish them back into the subconscious away from Happy Little Thomas.

“That was the first year I saw Creativity’s Star.” Virgil shifted, his arm brushing Dilyn’s as he settled more comfortably against the bars of the balcony. “You told me that if we wished hard enough, whatever we wished for would come true.”

Foolish.

Such Naivety.

Dilyn sniffed, rubbing his nose against his cape as he reluctantly lifted his head, resting his chin on his knees as he watched the last sparks of the star vanish. “I lied.” He whispered. Because that was what he--what Deceit did. Lied. Again and again and again. Telling the others what they wanted to hear, telling them what would give them hope because he too had been foolish enough to believe that they wouldn’t always be in the dark. Always be in the subconscious.

He knew better now.

Annie huffed a laugh, his tense shoulders relaxing as he slid down the banister, his head now more on level with Dilyn’s. “I don’t think you did. At least not as much back then. I mean, you wished on it too.”

It didn’t work back then either.

Dilyn choked on a sob, scrubbing roughly at his eyes. He’d known better back then, why had he--

Some Gatekeeper.

He’d been little too long, gotten sucked into the delusions children easily believed. “Imma fool. Wishes no come true.”

“Not all of them no.” Annie looked down, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. “And the ones that do...don’t always…” He licked his lips, shrugging a shoulder. “...they don’t come true when we want them to, but when the time is right.”

When the time was right? When the time was RIGHT? He vividly remembered telling that same stupid sentiment to Annie right before he’d left them for the light sides. And now Annie, no now ANXIETY of all people had used those words to defy Deceit. To leave despite Deceit’s strong argument otherwise. And it had worked for him. It had WORKED and---not--not---

You’ll never be liked by Thomas. Admit it. He hates you. You’re no Virgil. You don’t get redemption. You get to be a freaking CHILD.

“NEVER.” Dilyn practically spat the word, tearing his too large hat off his head and flinging it at the balcony door.

Never.

Thomas will NEVER like you.

You failed.

Some Gatekeeper.

His eyes burned as fresh tears streamed down his cheek. “Never. NEVER. NEVER COMES TRUE! IT NEVER--”

Dilyn turned shoving his face into Virgil’s side, unable to keep it together anymore, he sobbed harder, clinging to Annie’s hoodie like the helpless pathetic child he was. “Nevernevernever.” “Whoa--whoa. Hey.” Annie wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. “Dee--”

“It’s Dilyn.” He bitterly corrected. He would always be Dilyn. He was nothing else to Thomas now. Not after a year! “Deceit’s gone. Powers bye bye. All unwant--”

Virgil inhaled sharply, holding Dilyn closer. “You’re lying.”

Lying?

LYING!

Dilyn growled, shoving away from Annie’s side. “I STILL SMALL!” He yelled, pushing to his feet, gesturing at himself. “I HERE A YEAR, VEE AND I STILL SMALL. TOMMY DOESN’T WANT ME. DOESN’T NEED ME.” He glared at Virgil, stomping his foot. “HOW IS THAT.” His voice cracked. “LYING?!”

“Hey.” Vee sat up, pulling him back into a tight hug, rocking him back and forth “Hey. No. Dee. No. It’s not like that.”

How could he believe that? HOW?

Dilyn whimpered, digging his fingers into Virgil’s jacket, shivering as the wind picked up, easily sending a cool gust through his oversized clothes. “Tis too.”

“It’s not. You don’t think….” Vee exhaled, rubbing his back. “That me wishing the same stupid wish every year was...pointless? You don’t think after ten years I had stopped believing Thomas would ever accept me? That all my work was for nothing?”

But it hadn’t been. Virgil had been accepted. His stupid wish had come true.

He’s better than you. Of course it would come true. Thomas likes him.

Vee, squeezed him, running his fingers through his hair. “Your wishing isn’t pointless. You will be yourself again, Dee. You’ll...grow up. Thomas will...will learn to--”

Learn to what?

Get rid of you. That’s what. Thomas doesn’t need Deceit anymore.

The lump in his throat grew bigger. Dilyn pressed his face harder into the hoodie. “He loves me.” He choked out.

“He hated me too.” Virgil said softly. “You know that.”

Yah. So?

“But look how that’s changed in the past year.”

Dilyn huffed a bitter laugh, curling up in Vee’s lap. Sure. Annie had changed a lot. Revealing his name, upgrading his clothes, changing the Big Three into the Big Four with the others accepting him as necessary to Thomas’s functions. But that was different. “That...you.” He whispered. “You...liked. All Tommy’s fans like you.” He’d seen the feedback in the videos. Seen the fans wanting Virgil to be loved by the others. The fans had loved Anxiety from the very beginning. While Deceit--Deceit--had-- “I’m...I just…” He raised a hand to his scaled cheek.

Hated.

Scorned.

What more did you expect from a Dark Side?

Only pure evil would pretend to be Morality.

You’ll never be liked by them.

Ever.

They hate you.

They always will.

Virgil pressed his warmer hand against Dilyn’s, rubbing his thumb gently against his scales. “You’re doing what I did when I first showed up.” He said. “Making a bad first impression. Thomas will come around. More of his fans will come around. I mean...you’ve convinced us as Dilyn that you’re not that bad of a guy. It just takes--”

He groaned, jerking his head away from Vee’s hand. “Time.” He practically spat, fingers clenching on the drawstrings of his hoodie. It just takes time. Just a little more time. Another day of being small, another month of being a child. None of the others had been small for this long though! How did they know anything? “How. Much. Longer. Vee?” He demanded. “How mucher more?” He sniffed, rubbing his nose against the cape. “I small a year! I wanna…” Dilyn dropped his voice, “I wish….”

Let Deceit Rise.

Just let me be…me.

Virgil reached out resting his hand against the scales one more, a small smile playing on his lips as Dilyn leaned into his touch. “That you were big? That you were Deceit again?”

He flinched, ducking his head. “It’s dumb.”

Virgil gently lifted his chin back up to meet his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

Truth.

Why--Tears again filled his eyes. “But you should.” He whispered, voice trembling. “I do.”

Vee exhaled, chewing on his bottom lip, dark eyes searching Dilyn’s.

Dilyn frowned, fidgeting under Annie’s stare. “What?” He finally snapped, poking him in the nose, unable to take the scrutiny.

Virgil wrinkled his nose, pulling back out of Dilyn’s reach. “Nothing.” He huffed, shaking his head. “No, you thinking something. What?”

“Just…” Virgil shrugged. “Your role as Dilyn. Maybe...it’s time to end it.”

End it? Dilyn scoffed. END IT? He could only end it if he was BIG again. And that was NEVER going to happen. He was powerless. ”Why? All clear. I small. Forever. The End.”

“Well…” Virgil moved him off his lap “I was thinking that I can’t make you big again, Dee.”

Dilyn rolled his eyes, hugging himself in an effort to stop shivering. “Duh, Annie.” He grumbled. If any of the others could have made him big again they would have already done it! It wasn’t like the Big Four actually wanted him around. They were just tolerating him to protect Thomas from the others.

Some Gatekeeper.

“But.”

Dilyn looked up, frowning as the night sky behind Vee seemed to waver. “But?”

Virgil smirked, raising his own hand in a similar gesture to Deceit’s silencing one, the inky darkness behind him surging forward as he completed the movement to engulf Dilyn in pitch blackness before he could blink. “You can still be Deceit.”

To Be Continued Chapter 3

Taglist in Reblog

#White Lies #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Virgil #Anxiety #Tiny!Deceit #negative self talk tw #Panic attack tw #anxiety attack tw #It's been a bit but hey look I'm finally updating! Woot!!

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likedovesinthewnd · 5 years ago

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The Osiris Club

* fanart by @dixxiemaegraphics *

Summary: You’re the top dancer at the best strip joint Jersey has to offer— The Osiris Club. Sure, it’s grimy as hell, but it’s worth it whenever your favorite client comes in for a good time.

Word Count: 5.5K

Warning: purely smutographical content, stripping, bumpin’ and grindin’, face sitting, tail fucking, rough sex, a little fluff at the end for good measure.

It was a slow night at the club, Tuesday’s just didn’t draw the same clientele that the weekends did. No, Tuesday’s were more of the B crowd. The few scattered seats that were taken sat every strippers worst nightmare. You know, seedy types that only came in to get away from their overbearing wives, ate their weight in greasy bar food, and tipped like shit— always stinking up the place with their cheap cologne and tacky suits. You weren’t really sure what you expected out of a sleazy little strip joint in Jersey. It wasn’t exactly a high-end kind of place that attracted deep minds with deeper pockets. You mainly stuck around for the other girls who had become like sisters to you. That, and for the off chance you’d get to see your favorite and most elusive client— Big Red.

Hidden behind the shimmery curtain, you watched as Ginger finished her burlesque act. It was a stunning performance that mostly went unnoticed by the neanderthals in the audience, too busy stuffing their faces to look up. You honestly wondered why they didn’t just go to some cheap buffet to eat instead of a titty bar. Bunch of greasy losers didn’t deserve her talent or her titties.

Most of the other girls were out mingling with the cretins, leaving you to get ready in an empty dressing room. The big bucks were in lap dances, so the girls really laid it on thick, hoping to make some extra cash. You were strapping on your platforms when Ginger walked backstage looking irritated and severely unpaid.

“Ging! You fucking killed out there,” you cheered, hoping to draw her out of her funk.

She tilted her head to one side, narrowing her eyes to slits and gave you an unconvinced glare. “Sure, if by killed you mean killed their boners,” she scoffed, crossing her arms as she plopped down onto the couch.

“Maybe you should go out there dressed like a chicken wing next time. Bet that’d get them rock hard,” you chuckled under your breath, yelping when Ginger suddenly smacked your arm and started laughing with you.

“Oh fuck you, bitch.”

“Love you too, Ging.”

You checked yourself out in the mirror, giving your hair and tits an enthusiastic zhush before heading out on stage. Even if this wasn’t your preferred crowd, you still had a reputation to uphold as The Osiris’ top dancer. Ginger came up from behind, playfully twirling a lock of your hair between her manicured fingers and whispered in your ear. “You know, Hellboy is here tonight.” Her mischievous eyes looked into yours through the vanity’s illuminated reflection. You looked away, nervously rubbing your hands together, finding they were already clammy with anticipation.

Shit shit shit, he’s here, you panicked, not having expected anyone worthwhile to walk through the doors, least of all HIM.

“Please welcome to the main stage, Angel!!”

You put on your game face, silenced any neurotic thoughts, and reminded yourself with confidence that he was out there waiting to see you an only you— his coveted Angel. The opening chords to The Cult’s Fire Woman echoed through the club as you walked on stage, ready to give him the best damn show of his life.

Wound up, can’t sleep, can’t do anything right, little honey

Oh, since I set my eyes one you

I tell you the truth

The stage lights bathed you in an ethereal red glow as you sauntered down the runway, losing your marabou robe along the way. You twirled around the shiny chrome, undulating your hips to the hypnotic rhythm of the song.

Twistin’ like a flame in a slow dance, baby

You’re driving me crazy

Come on, little honey, come on now

With one arm held above your head and your back pressed firmly against the cool metal of the pole, you let yourself sink down, inch by torturous inch until you met the floor in a jaw-dropping split. Suddenly all eyes were on you and you couldn’t help but grin, knowing you had them eating of the palm of your hand. You got on all fours and crawled across the stage like a cat on the prowl, making sure to dip your spine to better accentuate the enticing curves of your ass.

Looking up after a rather dramatic hair flip, your eyes zeroed in on the bright cherry glowing at the back of the room. Plumes of thick smoke covered his face but you knew it’s was him— his imposing outline was unmistakable. Unforgettable. You could feel his hellfire stare on you, your skin tingling from the smoldering heat coming off his gaze.

Fire, smoke she is a rising

Fire, yeah smoke on the horizon He watched you with bated breath, completely mesmerized by the patterns your fingers traced along your serpentine body. Watching greedily as they traveled up your torso and chest, stopping to fondle the two most heavenly tits he’d ever laid eyes on. He wished they were his hands that were groping you, feeling every inch of you beneath his calloused fingers, but he would content himself with watching for now.

You took your sweet time with the thin straps of your top, sliding them down your shoulders, one after the other. Unhooking your top was always saved for last, and even then you didn’t rush it— savoring every drawn out moment, squeezing your tits together to tease him one last time. You didn’t have to see his face to know exactly what it did to him, and after making you wait so long to come back it felt like sweet retribution. Your tantalizing pace made the pay off that much sweeter when you finally let your breasts spring free from your top, gifting him a visual feast for the eyes.

The boorish men in the crowd all cheered, but Big Red showed no emotion, puffing away at his Cuban with his hungry eyes glued on you. There was a power in knowing he was watching you so intensely, making everyone else in the room disappear. It became a private dance, a tribute for his eyes only. You began touching yourself, your lips parting, tongue darting out ever so slightly as you mimicked the memory of his flesh hand roaming over the swells of your body. The sinful grin that graced your face matched the snarled expression on his.

Fire woman, you're to blame You climbed the vertical pole, excited for your favorite part of the performance. You gave it your all, spinning and sliding, letting your head fall back with every erotic revolution. A sea of dollar bills covered the stage as the song came to an end and you slowly descended the pole one last time, legs split and ass high in the air in a glorious display.

You happened to glance over your shoulder as you walked offstage, your eyes scanning around the club for Hellboy until they finally found him sitting at the bar with a stiff drink and his cigar safely nestled between his lips. It had been over six months since you’d last seen him— his line of work didn’t exactly make it easy for him to pop in any old time. You both understood that, with much reluctance. Part of you hated him every time he left, knowing there was never a promise of when he’d return to you, if at all. The uncertainty killed you, but you were in full bloom every time he walked through the doors and back into your arms for another fleeting tryst.

He sat in suspense, leg bouncing anxiously up and down, waiting for you to come find him. After all, that was his favorite part of the fantasy—feeling desired— and with you it never felt contrived. You were always so warm and genuine, so exquisitely beautiful that he found himself having to look away, questioning his worthiness of your time and attention. You never had to fake your interest in Red when it was so brutally real. The line between client and dancer blurring into obscurity, lost and forgotten in the passionate moments you shared in the club’s private rooms. He was worth every broken rule while he was there and every broken heart when he left.

When you finally reemerged, you were dressed in a red fishnet bodysuit, a skimpy thong and nothing else. His leg suddenly stopped bouncing as you approached him in what felt like slow motion. You called yourself Angel, an interesting choice when you looked more like sin incarnate.

“Hey, big boy, enjoy the show?” you purred, coming to stand between his thick legs, your fingers reaching out to him like a magnet, grazing over his sculpted deltoids, your palms landing over his impressive pecs.

His eyes shamelessly ogled your body up and down, thoroughly enjoying the way your nipples peeked through the constricting fishnet material—the color of your outfit not lost on him. His ego swelled knowing that you had chosen it intentionally with him in mind.

“I did and I’m enjoying this look too. Red looks good on you,” he winked, playfully snapping the material against you skin to emphasize his point.

“Mmm it certainly does,” you leaned in closer, stealing his cigar. He was silent as your lips pressed against the very spot his had been moments before. You inhaled the rich tobacco, letting the smoke billow around you in dreamy plumes.

“Red just feels... so good all over my body. Know what I mean?”

Your hands felt his responding groan rumble through his chest, the gentle vibration prickling against your palms. He drained his glass with an almost predatory stare that made you go weak in the knees.

“This one’s new,” you lilted, running a curious finger over the newest scar on his face.

He leaned into your soft touch, remembering how much he loved being doted on by you.

“Oh that one? Got it in a bar fight in Tijuana...” Red went on, telling you in sensational detail of how he’d wrestled a chupacabra into submission, making sure to emphasize his more heroic moments in the fight.

You listened intently, beaming up at him as he spoke excitedly of his time in Mexico. Your hands mindlessly roaming his body, fingers splaying across his massive chest and arms, as if guided by muscle memory. You loved how broad and firm he felt, how small he made you feel. Even with your ridiculous stripper heels on, you were still nowhere near his height.

Your gentle caresses caused his tail to perk up and coil it’s way around your ankle, the searing heat of it surprising you at first. He suddenly stopped talking and you both looked at each other expectantly, the mood shifting once again. It was technically considered a bad touch by the club’s standards, but none of Red’s touches were ever bad to you, so you allowed it. Your body thrummed with desire as his tail climbed higher and higher, curling around your inner thigh, the tip of it ghosting over the front of your thong. You were grateful that his imposing silhouette hid the frowned upon debauchery happening just out of view as you stood between his parted legs, pressed chest to chest.

“Careful, Big Red. Don’t get too carried away now,” you discreetly warned him, not wanting to alert the club’s bouncers. To anyone walking by it would simply appear as though the two of you were just talking, but part of you still feared the consequences of getting caught.

“Where’s the fun in that,” he chuckled smugly, not overly concerned with your warning. Not when he was so busy reducing you to a mess with his tail between your legs.

“Red...” was all you could rasp back in response, finding yourself flushed and out of breath.

He growled at the sound of his name leaving your lips, having missed it more than he’d expected. “Say it again,” he commanded, dragging his devilish appendage against your cunt with enough friction to make you jolt forward, repeating the motion again and again until your hips were grinding along with him.

You licked your parched lips and clung to his muscular forearms for dear life, already feeling like your body was combusting in flames.

“Red... wanna take this somewhere a little more private?”

His tail slowly began to recede, giving your ass a playful smack on its way out. “You read my mind, doll.”

There was something different in his demeanor this time around, something less timid and more brazen in the way he spoke and touched you. You couldn’t deny how much it excited you, how wet it was making you to see him assert such control and taunt the rules.

You stepped away from Red and up to your least favorite bartender who huffed at the inconvenience of your presence— god forbid he actually have to do his job.

“Joey, can you please let this fine gentleman and myself into one of the rooms?”

He rolled his eyes at your request, not bothering to look up from his magazine and Hellboy immediately took notice. You could see him fuming from across the bar, his chest puffing out, jaw clenched in anger. Rising to his full stature, he approached this “Joey” person himself, smacking the magazine right out of his hands. “You fucking heard her,” he bellowed, temper flaring as he struggled to refrain from absolutely pummeling the cowering man.

One look at Hellboy and the bartender didn’t have to be told twice as he fumbled with the keys, letting you into the biggest private room The Osiris Club offered.

You had the biggest shit-eating grin on your face as you instructed Red to have a seat while you locked the door. You’d never found the whole knight in shining armor thing to be sexy, at least not until you’d seen it in action. Witnessing Red defend your honor so fiercely was about the sexiest thing you’d ever seen, and that was saying a lot considering your profession.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” you cooed, sauntering over to the velveteen couch where he sat, his beefy thighs spread invitingly. The steady bass of the music set the tempo for every languid stride you took as you approached him.

“It’s been so long, I was starting to think you forgot about me.” You bit your lip, looking at him with a doe-eyed expression to match your pitiful statement.

“Not possible, babe,” he answered with a furrowed brow, feeling a pang of guilt for his absence. “I would have come back sooner—I mean I wanted to but—“

“I know, and it’s okay. I’m just glad my big strong hero is here now,” you spoke so sweetly, stroking his ego and his chin as you took your place, straddling his lap.

“I missed you,” you confessed, affectionately brushing your nose against his.

Red sat back, looking all too cocky at hearing that you’d missed him. “That right? And just how much did you miss me?”

“Well, let’s see,” you grinned, more than happy to humor him. “I missed seeing your handsome face waiting for me at the bar,” your hips began to rise and fall, steadily grinding against the sinewy surface beneath you.

Your arms immediately went to work, peeling off his heavy coat and shirt to reveal the bulky mass of muscle underneath. His rippled body was covered in an assortment of scars, all of which had unworldly stories behind them. You traced your fingers along the ridges of some of the newer ones, feeling his muscles jump— the time away had made him so starved for your touch. He’d especially missed the way you worshiped his body, taking your time to relearn every inch of him like you were committing it to memory.

“I missed you putting your hands all over me.”

His sharp intake of breath was felt when you placed both his hands on your ass, urging him to do with you as he pleased. His left hand roughly kneaded your supple flesh, while his heavy stone hand guided your hips movements, pushing you down harder on his straining cock. The intoxicating friction had you both panting, wanting to take more from each other. To cut the bullshit illusion that this wasn’t more than just two strangers and a business transaction.

“Missed the way you hold me in your arms like you never want to let me go.” You inched your face closer to his, your lips pursed and ghosting over his. You wanted to crash you mouth down on his, devour him— mind, body, and soul— but you held back, not yet ready to lose your last shred of self control.

“Missed the way you look at me like I’m god’s most beautiful creation when you’re buried deep inside me.”

Your voice was coming out in ragged moans, matching Red’s low growls as he held you firmly to his lap. You were so needy, your cunt pulsing, desperately needing him to fill you to the hilt. His grip on you tightened as his hands migrated up to your waist, his own desperation getting the best of him, almost at its breaking point.

“I missed you so much over the last six months, Red. Thought I’d go crazy if I didn’t see you again,” you whimpered, stopping your fervid gyrating for a minute to sincerely look into his golden eyes.

He gazed up at you in awe, his gorgeous Angel. The immense relief he felt knowing that you were as invested in him as he was in you. That it wasn’t some elaborate act— you really did care and want him. He felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the thought of you pining over him while he was away all that time, wondering how many men you turned down waiting for him and only him.

Enough was enough. He’d waited what felt like lifetimes to see you again and was unwilling to wait another second. Without warning he pulled you down by the nape and kissed you with a ferocity you felt all the way down in your toes. You flung your arms over his shoulders, fingers entangling themselves in his dark tresses, tugging slightly at the base of his skull. His head fell back, lips detaching from yours in a brief reprieve for oxygen, both of you looking at the other with lust-blown eyes.

“Looks like someone missed me too,” you smirked, cocking your eyebrow mischievously.

“You have no fucking idea, babe,” he mumbled with his mouth latched onto your neck, tongue lapping at your quickening pulse.

“Prove it,” you breathily commanded.

He snarled at your challenge, wanting nothing more than to flip you over and fuck you hard against the couch. To satiate the bestial urges that bubbled dangerously close to the surface. He knew you could take it— hell, it was probably what you wanted him to do— but he was in the mood for something else entirely.

He pulled away from you suddenly, his eyes flickering between your bodysuit and your eyes.

“You, uh, attached to this thing much?” He asked, running a stone finger down the front of it, from your collar to your navel.

“I have others,” you stated, keeping a cool tone despite feeling like you were about to spontaneously combust.

“Good.”

Gripping a handful of red fishnet between both hands, he yanked hard, tearing the flimsy garment right down the middle. He ran his hand down his scruffy face, proudly marveling at his work. Your tits fully exposed, loose fringe from where the fabric had been torn clinging to your balmy skin. The only thing in his way now was your thong and you were not about to let him rip that to shreds too.

“Don’t even think about it, big boy. I happen to be quite fond of this one.” Your sassy remark was met with a rumbling chuckle.

You rose to stand on the couch, one heel braced on either side of Red, your pussy and his face at eye level. Looking down at him, you slipped off the ruined bodysuit, chucking it on the floor. Your hips swayed to the soft music, feeling his hands snaking up your legs, stopping at the hem of your soaked panties. His fiery eyes looked into yours for permission, which you granted with a nod. He gently worked the thong down your thighs, careful to not damage it, per your request. You pulled one leg out at a time, holding onto his head for balance until you were completely bare, hovering above him.

“Goddamn, baby. Don’t you look lovely,” he mused, letting his hand freely roam your body, going wherever it pleased. His mouth peppered your tummy and hips in kisses, looking up to find a very pleased expression on your face when he delivered a lingering kiss over your glistening folds.

“Have a seat, gorgeous,” he beckoned, pulling you down to straddle his face, his fingernails making crescent indents on your ass from the firmness of his grasp on you.

He lapped at your dripping cunt like there wasn’t enough of you to satisfy his hunger, savoring your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him. Your hips rolled against his face, feeling the burn from his facial hair against your inner thighs, your hands holding firm to his stubbed horns for leverage as every inch of your body became consumed in pleasure. God, it had been months since you’d felt anything remotely close, the last person to give it to you that good was him. Not even your own hands or the myriad of toys you owned were able to replicate the delicious feeling of his mouth on you.

He growled against your sensitive flesh, sucking your swollen bud between his lips, your hips bucking at the sharp stimulation. Suddenly you jolted at the feeling of something new prodding at your entrance— and it wasn’t his fingers. His devious tail had found its way between your thighs, the girth of it enough to send you soaring higher with each shallow fuck into you.

“Red, don’t stop,” you chanted like a prayer as he delivered you closer to nirvana.

Your hips began to falter as the overwhelming magnitude of your orgasm hit you all at once. It was almost painful, your nerve endings pushed to their full potential, the sensation leaving you raw and somehow numb at the same time. It was a transcendent experience you’d never tire of and always crave for.

Hellboy was relentless, ravaging you like a beast starved, completely lost to his primal instincts. He growled, holding you up by the ass so he could drink every last drop you gave him, like sweet nectar from a chalice. It was only when you cried out for him to stop that he lifted his head in time to see a single tear fall down your flushed face. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

Slowly, he brought you back down onto his lap where you collapsed like a pile of jello, exhaustion creeping it’s way through your body.

“Hey, sleepyhead, you still alive?”

He playfully poked at your sides, checking your wilted state for any signs of life. You writhed and giggled after every relentless poke— he knew damn well how ticklish you were.

“No more! No more, Red!”

Your cries for mercy only encouraged him to tickle you more aggressively, pinning you to the couch beneath him so he had the upper hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart, can’t hear ya,” he replied, smug as ever.

That was it, you couldn’t take it anymore. You reached down and gripped his solid cock through his pants. His hands abruptly stopped their torture, his eyes wide and face turned to stone as he looked down at you with a betrayed expression.

“You don’t play fair, baby.”

He bowed his head with a heavy groan at the feeling of your lithe hand palming him, his inky hair cascading down his furrowed face.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you blurted, your second wind sweeping over you with reckless abandon at the sights and sounds of him unraveling under your touch.

He gave you exactly what you wanted, kissing you with everything he had and nothing less. Your frenzied hands worked his pants down his legs and he kicked them the rest of the way off with the same intensity, the lingering taste of your release on his tongue sparking something feral within you. You needed him with the same vitality that you needed air to breathe, the delirium making you feel like you might die without him.

“You ready for me, gorgeous?” His voice, thick with lust, broke through your haze.

You could only muster a nod in response, too far gone at that point for words. An almost pained expression washed over his features when he lined himself up to your entrance. A sign that he wanted this as much as you did, that his body yearned for you as badly as yours did for him. You anchored your legs around his abdomen, encouraging him to take the leap— to give into what you both needed so desperately.

You were no stranger to the pain that came with accommodating his size but it still managed to take your breath away each time like it was the first. He moved with such gentle reverence, suppressing the demonic part of himself that wanted to completely defile you, keeping it at bay with the last bit of control he had left in him.

“I can take it,” you assured him, arching up so your nipples brushed deliciously against the battle-toughened skin on his chest, stoking the already raging fire inside you.

He looked down at you warily, unsure of what he’d just heard you say, his body taught and muscles bulging from the tension he was holding in. Sensing his apprehension, you decided to give him one final nudge.

“Fuck me like you missed me.”

Hellboy exhaled with a rumbling growl, his grip on you becoming more constricting and possessive. It was all the permission he needed to pull your knees up to you chest and thrust into you without mercy. He set a bruising pace, unleashing his full power and stamina onto your pliant body. Your moans grew louder, tits bouncing violently, as he shifted his angle to hit that elusive bundle of nerves only he could reach. The perfect curve of his cock brushed against your g-spot with every ruthless drive of his hips, making you cry out for him, for god, for more.

“Did you miss me fucking you like this?” He snarled, pinning your hands above you head with his right hand of doom, the new leverage making it easier for his cock to impale you deeper.

“Tell me how much you missed it,” he sternly demanded, his voice strained from his exertion. “I missed it so much,” you cried out, the waves of pleasure on the cusp of swallowing you whole. Hellboy felt your body’s call for release, the unmistakable flutter baring down on his cock like a vice, bringing him closer to his own end. He released his grip on your wrists, and pulled you up by the nape so you were face to face.

“Only I get to fuck you like this, you hear me? You’re mine.”

You were absolutely done for, lost to the world, grasping to his strong shoulders as your body validated his claim on you. Violent waves of euphoria coursed through your veins, your pained cries of pleasure filling the stale room. He held your face in his flesh hand, beckoning you to look into his eyes as his hips began to sputter.

“You are mine,” he heaved, his voice a strangled moan as he reached his own peak, cumming inside you.

There was a peaceful silence between you as you both basked in the afterglow of your coupling. His massive body crushed you beneath it’s weight but you welcomed it, feeling protected and invincible in his arms. On second thought, you couldn’t breath.

“Hellboy, get off me,” you whined, out of breath after many unsuccessful attempts at prying him off.

“Oh shit, my bad,” he chuckled, bringing you both up to a sitting position as fast as his groggy body would allow.

From your place on his lap, you had the perfect vantage point to gaze up at him in amazement. He really was beautiful with his hair all out of place, the glistening sheen of sweat that coated his toned body catching the light just right. You couldn’t help but reach out and touch him, feeling your time together slowly begin to slip away. He leaned into you touch, holding you so close, you swore you felt him purr.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave again,” you whispered into his chest, hating how pathetically needy you sounded.

His big flesh fingers lifted your chin up to look into his gilded irises.

“I’m not going anywhere for a while. I took an assignment in town, so you better get used to seeing this mug around, babe.”

You yelped excitedly, pulling his face down to smother him in kisses.

You kissed his cheeks, nose, forehead, and horns ten times over before you leaned in for the kiss he really wanted. Every kiss with Hellboy was electric, it didn’t matter how chaste or raunchy, he always kissed you like he meant it. You took your sweet time savoring each other, no longer feeling the burden of time running out.

Things quickly began to heat up again when a series of loud knocks brought you out of your trance, your body tensing up with the fear of getting caught.

“Open the fuck up, Angel!” Hellboy looked at you protectively, waiting for you to say the word so he could kick some ass, but it never came.

Truth was, you were done. Done with the assholes at the club, done with the shitty pay, done faking your interest in other men when you already had the only one you really wanted. You had enough savings to get by for a few months so you really didn’t need this shithole anymore.

“Get dressed, Red. We’re leaving,” you asserted, fishing your thong and his shirt out of the pile of clothes on the floor.

Once you were both decent enough, you walked through the door, hand in hand, right past your blue in the face boss. He called you every name in the book, hurled threat after threat your way, before Big Red finally reached his limit and knocked him out in one swing.

“That’ll teach ya,” he spat at the unconscious dirtbag.

“Hellboy!” “What? I can’t have him talking about my girl like that!”

His earlier claim on came to mind, making you smile at the memory. You were irrevocably his— always had been and probably always would be.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you breathed, squeezing his huge palm in yours.

The night air was cold but ripe with opportunity, anything felt possible now that you were free from the club. Maybe you could get yourself a fancy new job at the bureau with Red, although the idea of you both working together seemed counterproductive— you'd never get anything done, not that you’d mind.

A sudden pang of hunger reminded you that you hadn’t had a proper meal in hours and fucking Hellboy had only left you more famished. You turned to him with playful smirk and a proposition.

“I’m kinda hungry, wanna grab some food?” “Fuck yeah, I’ll never turn down a meal. What were you thinking?”

“Pancakes?”

#Hellboy x Reader #hellboy x you #hellboy fanfiction #hellboy fanfic #hellboy 2019 fanfic #hellboy 2019 #hellboy

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serendair · 6 years ago

Text

Tag Game

Tagged by: @codenamed-bananafishThank you for tagging me :D

Rules: answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you want to get to know better

Nickname: None really, my family and friends call me by my given name. I tend to react when someone calls me “Seren” though considering that name follows me since forever through any game and online community I’ve been with :D

Zodiac: Scorpio

Height: 5″3″

Last movie I saw: oof...? I - don’t remember lol I don’t go to the movies that often. I did rewatch the Superman trilogy from the 70s with Christopher Reeve the other day because someone I follow reblogged a bunch of gifs ^^;

Favorite artists: Oh boy, where to start? There are so many. Famous artists of the past: Marc Chagall and Claude Monet. Beautiful use of colours and way of expressing themselves. I could sit forever getting lost in their pictures. Famous artists of today: Shaun Tan and Lorenzo Mattotti. Have you SEEN their work??? Amazing! Also: Marc Taro Holmes and Alvaro Castagnet who make wonderful watercolour art. Their grasp on the medium is stunning and I adore the ease in their works! Digital artists and members of the animation industry: Marco Bucci (That texture! Omg), Atsuya Uki (The expanse of his backgrounds, the expressions of his characters, the gestures, everything is so light and free, I could talk all day about it), @mocha708 (I don’t know their name sadly but their background artwork is breathtaking!) There are more but I keep it at this. Fanartists of the fandoms I follow: There are so many and I already feel horrible because I am sure I don’t name all that deserve to be named. Anyways, following no specific order I put them as they come to my head: e-mika (a recent discovery I found throgh a BF fanart and followed them for their beautiful art, just check them out, it’s impressive), fuwishi (found through YOI fanart, I adore their watercolour works a lot, everything is so harmonious and soft), aishakami (found through BF again I love her watercolour works and the way she uses colour, it’s so beautiful and glowing, also her digital art is adorable, I feel honoured to be followed back by her), Rayana aka rainbow09 (doing mostly digital art for the Digimon fandom but there occasionally are other things in between, I love her style so much, perspective, poses, expressions, her portrayal of some of my most favored characters is just so spot on it’s amazing, she’s an inspiration to me and one of the reasons I got back into drawing after a rather long hiatus and I am extremely proud to be able to call her a friend), yamacoya (also found through BF, has a very unique style that highly resonates with me - it’s so reduced yet really strong in expression, awesome). I could go on forever but I’ll stop here. As I said, there are so many and I feel bad for not naming them all but those came to mind first so I guess that’s alright?

Song stuck in my head: Black Sheep by Gin Wigmore (my dad recommended this song to me the other day and I can’t get it out of my head ever since, it’s so catchy and really good)

Other blogs: none - yet? (I keep considering splitting my blog by the fandoms I’m following but I’m overwhelmed just thinking about the maintanance so my poor followers have to deal with my randomness ^^; sorry guys!)

Do I get asks: sometimes :)

Following: 104

Amount of sleep: 8 - 10 hours if possible

Lucky number: 13

What I’m wearing: My go-to clothes aside from work are the jeans t-shirt chucks combo I’ve been rocking since my early teenage years. For work I’m expected to wear formal dresscode but loosen my leash and nothing stops me wearing my band shirts and chucks to a suit xD

Dream job: it used to be concept artist or animator but then life happened lol

Dream trip: Oh there’s more than one! The one I’m dreaming of for well over half of my life now would be Japan :) but there’s so many places I want to see. A backpacking trip through Great Britain. The Mayan Temples. Athens. Rome. And so many more ^^

Favorite food: Again so hard to name only one! I live in Bavaria and I love this regions food so so much. Kammbraten is amazing with Semmelknödel and Rotkraut. Or my mum’s Goulash is incredibly delicious. Or her Rouladen! God I love food xD to name something more internationally known I’d say Clam Chowder. I fell in love with that stuff the first time I went to Boston and I’m craving it madly. Oh and corn on the cob is always great! And Spaghetti! And Cherries - cherries are great. So are grapes. And I discovered Kaki fruits recently - yum!!! Did I mention that I love food? lol let’s skip ahead

Play any instruments: No :( but I want to learn to play the piano eventually

Languages: German, English, I was pretty acceptable in Spanish but that’s years and years ago. I think I can introduce myself still lol doesn’t count I guess

Favorite song: I really try not to write an essay about favourites again. It’s so situational. And this is hard to answer! I’ll pick Queen - Don’t Stop Me Now, this song always picks me up when I’m down or makes me dance through the room when I’m in a good mood, overall a great song!!!

Random fact: I’m really bad at answering questions like these with a normal answer, you either get a long ramble or a counter question to specify what exactly is being asked. I’m a nightmare for everyone trying to hold a conversation with me I’m afraid. This is kind of obvious though so...how about this: I used to raise butterflies when I was a kid. When they hatched my mum’s kitchen was full of fluttering colours :D

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: Ummm.....? Does a blank page count? I could tell you about the things I like but to describe myself as aesthetic things...? I don’t think I qualify to do so.

Tagging: Some of you are friends and some are followers of mine who I haven’t gotten the chance to get to know yet but I keep seeing your names in my push notifs and you somehow stick around despite my randomness. I hope it’s ok and I don’t bother you guys. I tend not to tag people to not be an annoyance but it would be nice to get to know (more about) you. Needless to say if you don’t feel like doing this I don’t blame you :D Anyways: @rainbow09 , @tai-grex , @nekog4y , @xsmokexflamesx , @ookamii-woof , @zeokawolfhusky , @lovecardpng , @lutyung , @ashjadelynxx , @darkangelofcourage , and of course everyone else who I didn’t tag but reads this and feels like doing it! If you do feel free to add me and let me know :D

#this has been sitting for a while in my inbox #i'm so sorry it took so long to pick it up #i started answering it and then i realized some questions do need actual thinking lol #then life took over with work and university and wips #yet here we are #again thank you for tagging #this was fun #:D #other #my own #tagged #I'm still clueless how to describe myself as aesthetics #this will have me thinking for a while #I really don't know...?#hmm...

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