#i am eating this art. like actually. crunch crunch

[faradaykay]

seeing you so enthusiastic about p3 has made me genuinely want to try getting into the series again so i just wanted to say thank you :]

WAH THANK YOU THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL… THE MITSUHAMS…

[ragnars-tooth]

It never fails to piss me off that because of my degree I wasn't allowed to take the bookbinding module (100+ hours of teaching) because it was "covered in the illustration syllabus". Was it. Because I got 15 hours in 3 years and they were all optional.

We got to third year and no one knew how to do a saddle stitch bind and the tutors (who we had in first year also) got mad at us. Like girl idk we'd BEEN asking for you to do more than all give conflicting opinions on poorly explained briefs but sure. Its my fault I can't really remember how to do that thing I learnt once when I was a silly idiot child (a fresher)

Anyways I'm planning to bind some little zines for xmas gifts and I know already that I'm going to scream and cry and throw up and do it all wrong repeatedly 🙏

[galactaknightyaoi]

normalize never ending whimsy in your soul. it's ok to self indulge it's okay to be cringe

When I first got into Kirby, I didn't expect to like, actually get into it. I thought it'd be like any other hyperfixation I'd had up to that point, that it would go away within a few months and I'd never think about it again.

Given I was so deeply in denial, I didn't care about being fully accurate and had some stuff that was really goofy and/or underdeveloped and unexplained. Stuff I'd made up to just work for the limited time I would be there.

Still, I came up with a few headcanons that I got attached to, and when I started realizing this was here to stay, I still chose to be stubborn and had to work backwards to keep these stupid headcanons, but adapt them into something a bit more fitting and polished.

It led to some cool stuff, like for example, my orbs aren't very magical, this was something I had settled on early on. But after I got invested, I had to think about what that actually meant and the implications of it like, how can they do this without magic? And what about that? What about this canon thing, how do I explain it?

I found decent enough explanations for all of these. But as a result of my unserious beginnings and continued stubborness, now I get really embarrassed at the time to actually talk about my headcanons and the stuff I've come up with.

Because what do you mean your Galacta Knight is half-dragon?

[mrchiipchrome]

The Museum

W.C. - 5.2 k

this is so the 'pookie looks absolutely fire' tiktok couple coded

thank you to the anon that requested this, much love to you:)

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

The skittles made a crunching sound as your molars bit down on them, it was an every day snack for you, tasting the rainbow more often than not. It was a relatively new habit, but when your ex had broken up with you, you promised yourself to become a better person.

It obviously had to be you who had something wrong with them, otherwise she wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else and out of love with you. Quitting smoking was the first thing on your agenda, hence the skittles.

The next thing was to get away from the small southern town in Texas, move so far away that you left the country entirely. The only thing you’d taken with you on the plane was a carryon with 2 changes of clothes, your cowboy hat and a dream of bettering your life.

The third thing you bettered was your health, going out for a run every morning through the streets of London, going to the gym after work, doing push-ups before bed. It worked wonders, the tips you got from the ladies at the bar where you worked were simply incredible.

The fourth thing you wanted to improve was your cultural knowledge, the exact reason why you were standing in the middle of a museum, old renaissance paintings in every corner of the large room. It was something you appreciated, none of that modern bullshit where people just taped a banana to a canvas and called it art, it was back from when people actually painted.

Your hand slipped down your body into your jacket pocket, fetching another piece of candy, although a voice speaking up from your right startled you nearly enough for you to drop it back into the bag.

“You’re not supposed to eat in museums, you know?” The woman had a foreign dialect, just like you. You guessed it was from somewhere in the middle of Europe, maybe Germany or any of the neighboring countries.

“It’s not a problem if you don’t tell on me, no one has to know.” She seems just as startled by your accent as you were by her speaking to you, her cheeks dusted with a light pink at the wink you sent her.

“What are you going to do if I tell them? Take me back to your ranch on your horse?” The mystery woman teases, obviously making fun of the accent and the cowboy hat sitting perched on your head. In response you laugh under your breath, shaking your head in amusement.

“I’m afraid that I left the ranch back in Texas, Miss. All I have here is a small one bedroom apartment.” She looks up at you through the side of her eye, her half smile distracting you more than you’d like to admit. Her brows knit together when she notices a security guard eying the two of you curiously and her elbow digs into your ribs when you once again reach for the skittles in your pocket.

“Nice hat, my friend would be jealous.” You nod in agreement, plucking the stetson off your head and turning it around in your hand. In a brief moment of stupidity, you place the cowboy hat on the pretty stranger’s head, it falling down the front of her face to cover her eyes. It’s frankly adorable, the way she brings her hand up to push it back to the crown of her head.

The reassuring smile on her face tells you that she approves of your action, a relief to your entire being. She takes her phone out of her back pocket, turning it on and snapping a picture of you both, the cowboy hat still perched on top of her head.

In response, you snap a picture of her alone, the woman posing like a cowboy would for you. She was going to be the wallpaper of your phone for a while, even though you didn’t even know her name.

“So, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you mine?” The cheesy pickup line just slips out, not at all consciously, it was like instinct took over, a pretty girl was to be flirted with.

“I wouldn’t mind being called yours, but for now you can call me Lia.” The woman doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your advances, in fact she embraces them, teasing smile telling you that she found it amusing how worried you got over a simple pickup line.

“Lia, a beautiful name for an even more gorgeous girl.” She gains her pink tint back, the compliment likely the cause of her blush. It wasn’t like she never got complimented, it was just the attractive zing your accent put over the words that made them feel more sincere.

“And how about you? A name attached to that pretty face?” Now it was your turn to blush at the other woman’s words, her lips splitting into a full toothed smile.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You imitate Bond to introduce yourself, sticking your hand out for her to take, a firm handshake and the tip of an imaginary hat letting her know who exactly it is you are. 

“Good to know my future last name.” She winks at you and the blush that’s already covering your face deepens significantly. The insinuation that you were to marry the girl beside you too much for your poor little heart to take. 

She starts to walk away from you and towards another section of the room, looking back over her shoulder when she realizes that you weren’t right beside her, walking. Waving her hand in a “come here” motion, you quickly catch up with the older woman. 

“So, why skittles? Is there not any other sweet you’d rather have?” She asks as you match her slow rhythm of steps, your hands shoved in the pockets of your coat with your arms forming loops. Lia threads one of her arms through yours, leaning her head on your shoulder, standing still all of a sudden to look at a painting. It didn’t feel like you’d just met, like you’d just introduced yourselves to one another, it felt like you’d known each other for decades, easily slipping into being comfortable with each other.

You gaze at her as she looks at the painting, making sure to map out all her gorgeous features and commit them to memory. She was like a breath of fresh air in a world of polluted oxygen.

“First of all it’s called candy, not sweets, candy. Secondly, they’re amazing for when you want to stop smoking.” Her cheek smushes against your shoulder as she turns her head to look up at you, her eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“You were a smoker?” You feel the strong urge to place a peck atop her lips, soft and warm against your own. But in the end you resist, you’d only just met the woman for god’s sake, you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes hold so many emotions that you just can’t read.

“Yeah, only for about a year. My ex stressed me out so much that I felt it was the easiest way to deal with it. But when she broke up with me, I decided to get my life back together, moved here, got a job at a bar and that’s it. That’s why I’m here.” Lia listens intensively at the story you’re telling her, the way she looks at you suggests that she’s hanging off your every last syllable.

“So no more smoking at all for you?” You puff your chest up, proudly displaying the grin on your face and your now discolored tongue. Lia looks on in amusement at your actions, a grin that could light up an opera house on her face. 

“Nope, I’m never picking up a cigarette again.” The amusement turns into a sort of profound proud feeling, a feeling that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling for what is practically a stranger. A stranger that in the matter of a mere hour had worked their way into her heart and made themselves home.

“Good, I’m really happy for you.” The softened look on Lia’s face makes you blush, it was the way most people looked at their loved ones. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be one of her loved ones, how it would feel to see her first thing in the morning, to gaze into her tentative eyes and try to read her like a book just because you know exactly how it is she acts, how she feels at that exact moment, what she thinks.

At your faraway look Lia nudges you in the ribs, giggling at the embarrassed expression that occupies your face. Her giggle could only be described as a ray of sunlight, lighting the glum room up in seconds, giving it a golden glow.

The older woman doesn’t miss the fondness in your gaze as you watch her laugh, your own lips splitting into a smile and soon after a loud belly laugh bubbles up in your chest, welling out of your mouth like water out a dam. 

Only moments later the both of you are doubled over in laughter, tears slipping down your cheeks and arms crossed over your stomachs. Some scattered guests give you two dirty looks, as if you were peasants in a house full of royals, but they are counter effective because it only makes you and Lia laugh harder.

The security guard from earlier approaches you both as you drop down to the floor with a loud thump, Lia bursting out into an entire new fit of laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I’ve already let you get away with a lot today but this is your last strike. Up you get, I’ll escort you and your lady companion to the exit.” He speaks through his thick mustache, his round beer gut bobbing up and down with every word like he needed every fat covered muscle of his stomach to get the words out.

Small giggles escape you both as Lia and you are led out of the building by a firm grip around both of your arms. You both watch in amusement as the fat man gets winded walking back up the stairs he just led you down, bending over for a brief second at the top before disappearing back behind the door.

“So, I take it you know the security guard then?” She sounds a little out of breath as she speaks to you, flyaways sticking out of her bun, your hand itches to reach up and smooth them out, undo her bun and run your fingers through her hair. But you don’t. 

“Yeah, he’s my regular. Comes in every day and buys a pint after work, a good friend of mine he is. He lets me get away with eatin’ in there every time I come.” You stand right in front of the brunette, hands again in your pockets as you smile at her tentatively. Her hand comes up to rub at your arm, and you feel as though you were going to pass out at any moment, the electric feeling of her ring covered fingers touching your arm overwhelming in a good way.

“Ah, a museum nepo baby then.” You can tell that she’s joking by the way her eyebrows raise all the way up to her hairline, and you imitate her by doing the same thing. Another fit of giggles ensues, Lia looking directly into your eyes, holding eye contact for a prolonged amount of time.

It makes you nervous, her somewhat challenging gaze locking on your face for a moment longer than necessary. When she grasps your hands in hers you finally look back at her, meeting her tender gaze with your own.

“I really enjoyed today, I was hoping we could do it again sometime.” The older woman looks at you sheepishly, nearly nervously. You’re mesmerized by her gorgeous simplicity, simple smile grazing her lips as you nod, a recognisable warmth behind the hug she gives you, the quick kiss she places on your cheek haphazardly before walking away, not looking back to see your rose tinted cheeks.

It’s only when Lia has disappeared far behind the horizon that you realize that you have no way to contact her AND that she essentially got away with your favorite cowboy hat. You aren’t as distraught about your hat as you are about not getting her number, it was a dumbass move from you.

You drag your feet all the way back to your apartment, not knowing that only moments after you left the museum, the girl of your dreams ran back all the way to get your number. And like you, she dragged her feet all the way back to her apartment, sulking and questioning her own intelligence.

Arriving at the bar that evening was strange, you felt almost empty without the girl you’d met earlier that day, no light brown cowboy hat perched atop your head nor a beaming smile. It was weird to everyone around you, you always had that damned hat on, but now it was a completely different one, black with a few white accents.

“What happened to you? It looks like someone ran over your dog.” Your co-worker and best friend Marla asks, placing her hand on your shoulder softly as if you were to break if she did it any harder. Shaking your head, your other friend and co-bartender Jason comes up to rub your back softly, the comfort from both of your best friends loosening you up significantly and soon after you spill everything that had happened up to that point.

They were both smirking at you when you finished up the story, knowing that despite only just meeting the woman in the museum you were already in love. 

“So do you have a picture of this goddess who’s making you drop to your knees?” Marla asks you, looking knowingly at your other best friend, who in return wiggles his eyebrows at her. You knew something would happen between them soon, and you’d rather be in hell than to watch it.

“Yeah, just give me a quick sec.” Pulling out your phone, you quickly unlock it and enter the photo app, not needing to scroll as the most recent photo was of her, Lia.

“Girl, are you fucking with me?” You look at the dark skinned girl in confusion, her eyes widening as she realizes that you had no fucking clue who it was you had met. She looks to her ‘boyfriend’ quickly in shock, who looks back at her equally appalled.

“Are you telling me you don’t recognise her?” The moment you shake your head is when the green eyed boy facepalms, not believing your stupidity. “Not at all? You haven’t seen her before.” When you once again shake your head the man sighs in disappointment, all faith in your intelligence practically gone.

“Girl. That is Lia Wälti, you know one of the best midfielders in the country? Arsenal Women’s player.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, not at all knowing that she was a footballer. All the times you’d gone over to Marla’s house to watch footy, she’d probably been injured.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even recognise her.” You lean against the door, sliding your body down until you’re sitting flush on the floor, head in your hands. Jason places his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly at you as he tries to reassure your overwhelmed mind.

“Hey, man, it was probably a good thing that you didn’t recognise her. She knows that you’re not some crazed fan trying to kill her, eh?” Marla’s hand plucks your cowboy hat from your head and runs her fingers through your hair, your shared shift started in mere minutes and yet they were there, comforting you.

“I’m okay, just a bit shell shocked.” They both laugh, pulling you up by your hands and bringing you into a group hug, patting your back before Marla gives you your hat back, smacking both you and Jason’s asses before disappearing out to her office.

“You know, we have an extra ticket to the Arsenal game on Sunday, so I mean if you want to see her again then you’re welcome to join.” You smile at the man’s kindness, telling him that you’ll definitely take him up on his offer. You didn’t have a shift at the bar either way that day so spending it looking for your … well you didn’t really know what it was she is to you. All you know is that you wanted to see her again.

Two days later you find yourself sitting as close to the pitch as you possibly can, waiting for the North London derby to start. 

Lia is in the starting lineup, looking determined as she waits for the whistle signaling the start of the game to sound. The shrill noise cuts through the air and the game starts.

It’s physical right from the start, loads of pushing and shoving coming from both sides, red and white. There are a few times where you nearly jump to your feet as Lia gets pushed but the fact that your friends sat there right beside you made you choose not to.

At half time the score is the same as the beginning, nil-nil. Despite not knowing much about football you join in on analyzing the first half of the game, mentioning all the times Lia went down. Marla makes some ‘innocent’ comments about how you’d much rather have her ‘go down’ somewhere else. The blush that overtakes your face is enough for you to blend in with your jersey, the red of the Arsenal shirt the same shade as your face.

When the second half starts, you’re basically on your feet all the way through, cheering loudly when Alessia scores, meaning that the gunners were up one-nil.

It’s particularly hilarious when Lia finally notices you, a pause in the game meaning that she had the time to look around at the fully packed Emirates Stadium. When those eyes you love to gaze into meet yours for the first time since Friday, her face split open in a smile, a smile reaching all the way up to her eyes.

It looks like she has to physically restrain herself so that she doesn’t run over to you, her body shaking slightly as she calmly inches her way towards you, the cheers of the fans around you becoming louder as the player comes closer. Lia tunes them all out though as she looks at you, the only thing cutting through her trance being the whistle signaling the freekick being awarded. 

Lia looks back towards you as she walks in the direction of the group of players and you wink at her, even though she’s far away it seems like she saw it, the deep tint of red dusting her face definitely more than exertion from the game. 

When the three loud whistles sound throughout the arena, it explodes in cheers as Arsenal manage to keep their one-nil lead and in doing so make London red again. But you don’t even acknowledge the win when there’s a speeding Lia Wälti heading straight in your direction.

She only starts to slow down as she reaches the barrier which separates the fans from the pitch and players, with you standing up behind it to watch her come closer and closer with every quick step she takes.

Lia throws her arms around your torso when she comes close enough, the way that she had been longing for your touch had been driving her crazy in the days since you first met. She also knew that it wasn’t smart to do it all out in the open, fans and professionals alike were probably going to know everything about you within a few days. You didn’t seem to mind though, content with having her in your arms again.

Pulling away from her, you quickly take her face in your hands, looking her over to see if her face was scratched up from all the times she’d met the ground in the game. 

“Shit, darling, I think you spent more time on the ground in this game than on your feet. You ought to be more careful.” Your southern drawl is especially thick when you speak to her, the worry you’d experienced the entire game bubbling to the surface.

“I’m perfectly fine, I think you’re forgetting that I do this for a living.” She smiles at you reassuringly and you calm down fully, her hand placed on your arm a sure factor of it. Lia’s head turns to your side, looking directly at your friends who both send her starstruck looks. 

“Hi, I’m Lia.” The footballer smiles in their direction and they both remain in their seats, completely unmoving. She looks back to you concerned and in response you just laugh, they were apparently not expecting her to actually greet them. “Are they okay?” 

“I think they’re just a bit starstruck.” Gesturing towards their gaping mouths, Marla quickly slaps your hand away from her face, biting at the air to show you that she wasn’t afraid to bite.

“Oh okay, well do you think they want anything signed? I can ask the team, or maybe if you want we can go meet them?” Lia sounds unsure of herself, apparently doubting that her first impression on your friends was good.

“I think that they’d love that sweetheart. But judging from all the looks we’re getting from that same team, I do think they want you back.” You glance towards the women gathered in a clung in the middle of the pitch, all of them staring at you and Lia interacting. She sighs at their slightly invasive culture, but alas there wasn’t anything that she could do about it. When you smile and wave at them, you’re thoroughly amused when every single one of them repeats your actions back to you, some in confusion and some in amusement.

“A guard is going to tell you to follow him, just do as he says and we’ll meet again soon.” By that point the stadium was almost empty, everyone wanting to go home and brag about their team’s win over the archrival. So as Lia walks away from you, you’re totally free to stare at her ass, only stopping when Marla slaps your arm harshly.

“Did that just happen?” Jason asks shakily, running his hand down his face in embarrassment.

“You’re damn right it did.” You laugh at their stupid expressions, their embarrassment clear on their faces. “Well look on the bright side, y’all are going to meet the team.” With that their embarrassment turned into excitement, meeting their favourite athletes quickly turning their mood around.

“Y/n Y/l/n? Come with me and take your friends with you.” Walking around the labyrinth of slinging hallways and narrow paths, you appear in front of the locker room in no time, the loud music escaping the door a clear indicator of the Gunners good match.

“Now just wait out here until they come out, they’ll probably be out in a few.” The guard tells you unbothered, not caring at all that he’s leaving people he doesn’t know outside of the locker room.

“Yes sir.” You speak up clearly, mock saluting him as he disappears down the hallway with a sigh.

“I can’t believe that you’re 28, you act like a 12 year old.” Marla tells you jokingly, leading to you pushing her away from you. In the span of a few seconds both you and Marla find yourselves on the floor, engaging in a wrestling match. It only gets broken up when the sound of the door opening echoes through the hallway, both you and your best friend quickly getting on your feet.

“Nah what’s going on here?” A very amused Irish accented voice escapes the player exiting the locker room, one Katie McCabe staring at you and Marla.

“It was her fault.” You point at Marla so as to gesture that it was her who started it, the woman vehemently denying it.

“So I’m guessing you’re Lia’s cowboy then?” Katie completely ignores the blame game currently going on in front of her as she talks to you. Blushing at being called Lia’s, you quickly start to stutter out an answer.

“I- uhm yeah, I think so?” Laughter coming from behind the Irish woman makes you glance in the direction of the sound. Seeing Leah Williamson of all people is not what you expect, a bit starstruck yourself.

“Of course it’s the cowboy you buffoon, who else would wear a cowboy hat in London? You have to tell me where you bought the one Lia brought home, I need a new one. Mylie-moo chewed mine to filth a couple days ago.” Leah throws her arm around your shoulder as if you’d known each other for years, the woman clearly having heard a thing or two about you.

“Oh well I’ll be sure to bring you one next time I go back to Texas, my buddy Carl, he’s 72 and he makes the most gorgeous hats you can imagine. Last time I visited him I made him an instagram page, I’ll send you the link if you want?” You speak enthusiastically with the England captain, her arm still resting around your shoulders casually. Both Marla and Jason are in a conversation with Katie and Lotte, who just got out of the locker room.

“Important question, so answer me truthfully now, do you like country music?” She looks at you skeptically, trying to deduce if you’re being truthful or not. The question itself makes you roll your eyes playfully, but alas it didn’t surprise you. It was widely known that Leah was quite the country fan.

“Ma’am I grew up in Texas, yeah I’m a country fan. I’d be disowned if I wasn’t.” Leah looks at you like you’re her hero, it was clear to you that she accepted you. The hinges of the door squeak as a few other players exit, namely Lia.

“Lia please let me steal her, she’s perfect.” Leah says jokingly, holding onto your arm softly like she was a little kid. Lia looks at her weirdly, but quickly catches on to the joke, walking over to the two of you.

“I know, that’s why I want to keep her.” Lia wraps her arms around your waist tightly, her newly washed hair curling up into adorable curls, head placed on your shoulder. 

“Sharing is caring.” Leah is on the verge of laughter as she talks, the statement a shocking one for sure. It was hilarious though so you also had to keep from laughing.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind-” Lia shoots you a mean glare at your half serious words, and even though it was like being glared at by an adorable kitten, Lia already had you wrapped around her finger. “Actually I’m taken so I don’t think that would work.” 

All it takes for you all to break character is a shouted ‘WHIPPED’ coming from one of the players watching the interaction like it was a soap opera, the three of you laughing like it was the last thing you’d do.

“Alright, anyone want a drink? Not to brag but I can make a mean cocktail.” The women all cheer as you ask them, everyone rushing out to get into their cars and get to the bar. Just as you’re about to follow them, someone takes hold of your collar, making it so that you can’t go. 

Lia looks back when you don’t follow her but you just wave her off, telling her to go on without you. Turning back, you’re met with all the ‘scariest’ Arsenal players, looking like they’re about to beat you up.

“Listen carefully now, because this will only be said once, if you hurt a hair on her head, do anything to hurt her emotionally, if you do anything wrong that makes her sad, we will not hesitate to take your knees.” It’s Katie that speaks, all the others just nodding intimidatingly, glaring at you. 

“I’m going to try my best to make her happy, I know that she deserves the world.” They let up the facade of intimidation at your words, patting your back and pushing you in the direction of the car park. The conversation as you all are walking out of the building is pleasant, when you arrive at the parking lot there are just a couple of cars left.

Both of your best friends had left you to carpool with one of the remaining players, Lia called dibs though the second she looked at you, so it was with her you went.

“They weren’t too scary with you right? I know how they can be.” Lia says over the soft music being played from the radio, some Tyler, the Creator song. You look at her face, she was in deep thought and absolutely adorable. 

“Nah, it’s like being threatened by a pair of teddy bears. Let’s just say that I’ve had worse shovel talks.” She giggles as you start to tell her about all the weird shovel talks you’d gotten back in Texas, everything from being threatened with Chinese water torture to being hung upside down from a tree for simply speaking to a girl that wasn’t her.

When the bar comes into sight you see that multiple people have parked their cars right in front of it, telling Lia to just park on the curb.

“Y’all are such dickheads.” You laugh, slapping both Marla and Jason’s heads hard, they left you stranded. 

“Well you’ve got a girlfriend now who can drive your broke ass.” Marla shoots back, rubbing her head in pain. You roll your eyes at her dramatic actions, the slap wasn’t that hard.

“One-nil to me then, at least I have someone.” The sibling like banter was normal between you two by now, she was your best friend after all.

“C’mon cowboy, let’s sit down for a little.” Lia’s hand rests on your stomach as you both sit down on the booth, the place to sit being suspiciously small, to the point in which Lia had to throw her legs over your lap to get enough space.

It was nice to sit and talk with the team, they were regular people just like anyone else and it made you glad to see them just relax after a match. The atmosphere was calm, so calm in fact that Lia managed to fall asleep on your shoulder, quiet snores escaping her mouth.

Only moments later you fall asleep too, after having fought sleep for as long as possible. Your head rests on top of Lia’s and the girls think it’s absolutely adorable, some of them taking pictures of you both to send to their group chat.

“I knew being friends with her would pay off.” Jason jokes, thinking naïvely that you were fully asleep, getting a few laughs from the girls in the room. They get startled though as you utter a quick;

“Hey!” In protest, everyone soon laughed at your dramatic reaction to his joke.

Who knew that going to the museum would result in you getting a date?

[turbulenthandholding]

👀 just wondering if you’re writing anything these days!

1. Hi, hello, thank you for the ask @anxietycroissant! ❤️

2. I am...or I am trying! I am about 16,000 words into what is probably going to be a pretty long fic. It's an unexpected pregnancy/speed-run-the-relationship Sydcarmy and I am happy to be writing it because it's what my brain wants to read but it alternately falls out of my head and gives me great angst. I had been pretty blocked for more than a week but 3000 words fell out of my head like nothing last night which was a nice surprise.

Excerpt (Syd and Carmy are at IKEA):

“Sammy, right? Weren't you Carmy's sous?”

Sydney looks up to see Claire standing before her. “Claire. Hi. It's Sydney, actually,” she says and rises. Claire's eyes fall to Syd’s abdomen. “And I'm his CDC now.”

“Oh, that's so cute!” Claire says, her eyes falling to Syd’s belly. “You finally got over your weird obsession with Carmy and moved on,” Claire says. “Congratulations!”

“Weird obsession?” Syd asks. She feels pinned again like she did the first night she met Claire during the reno, glared at for reasons Syd at least thinks she understands now. Jealousy, and this time, lingering anger at her breakup with Carmy, which Claire lobs at Sydney like a knife.

Syd struggles to respond. “Sorry...are you like here to look at a couch? Or like, eat some meatballs? Sorry.”

“How do you feel about a lingonberry juice box?” Carmy asks Syd as he returns, focused, unaware, unwrapping and inserting the straw as he moves to hand it to her. “Got some water too,” he says, finally engaging with the scene in front of him.

“Carm, hi,” Claire says, features pinching. Syd takes a sip from the straw.

“Uhh, hey, Claire,” Carmy returns. He slips his arm around Syd, possessive fingers digging into her hip. A united front.

“Just one…” Claire begins. “Did this, uh, overla…how far along are you?”

“Due at the end of February,” Syd says.

Claire calculates, glares at Carmy. “You didn't waste any time.”

Carmy shrugs.

“Well, this is just so fucking precious,” Claire says through clenched teeth. “I guess when you said you didn't have space for fun or enjoyment in your life, you really just meant you don't have space for me. Cool. Cool. That's just…I’ll see you around, Bear. Good luck with whatever.” She slings her bag over her shoulder and stalks off back towards the escalators.

“Uhh,” Syd says, before taking a last drink from her juice box. The lingonberry juice is good, a little tart cutting through the sweetness. The box scrunches and crunches in her hand and makes the sound that juice boxes do when they are finished. “Sorry, that was loud. And just like…sorry that, uh, this happened.”

(2.5 - I could probably use an alpha reader if any of my Sydcarmy mutuals wants to take a look and tell me if it's bad or that I'm crazy because it could very well be!)

3. I'm also working on a soul mark/soul scar Sydcarmy. It's probably about 3k words so far but I put it to the side because I realized I had a huge plot hole and haven't quite figured out how to come back from it yet.

Excerpt:

Sydney gets really good at applying foundation to her arms, pressing it in with setting powder to help keep it waterproof just in case. The number of tattoos gracing her arms has been growing exponentially over the last few months. There's a pyrex measuring cup holding the whole world, a couple of angels, a fish. S-O-U on the fingers of her hand. She's a senior in high school on track to graduate with honors and the body art would be a distraction, a mark against her. An indication that she's not serious enough to do anything other than make terrible decisions or jeopardize her future; a constant, tangible reminder that she doesn't have the grace about things like this than people whose skin is lighter than hers. She wishes she didn't care. But she does, so she covers them up every day in a routine that feels like it has become her religion. She wears button-down shirts with long sleeves secured at her wrists most days, even when the heat and humidity in Chicago are oppressive. Counts the seconds until she can go to the CIA where maybe the sight of Schrödinger’s tattoos (simultaneously hers and not hers) won't hold her back.

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

Our Copyright Problem Submissions

The two Maori artworks (New Zealand does not have a fair use/fair dealing clause for parody/satire, and while this MIGHT qualify as review/criticism, this is tumblr. I am not comfortable saying this is NOT satire):

Kohatu by Selwyn Muru at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa in Wellington

This Land is Ours by Buck Nin at the Auckland Art Gallery.

The other Indigenous artwork that hit a stumbling block (Kent Monkman's website requested we fill out a form, and Mod Salix couldn't make it load, and other mods didn't find the time, so we erred on the side of caution instead):

mistikôsiwak (Wooden Boat People): Resurgence of the People by Kent Monkman on the artist's website, it is on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. commentary: (Art) history as I used to learn it was very whitewashed seeing this large painting harking back to the so called 'canon' but focusing on native view point, gives me life. (anonymous)

The three tumblr artists who did not get back to us! No reposting here!

The Watcher by seamlessoo We've actually been unable to refind this one after the submission for some reason!

Untitled by petersolarz commentary: The colours are so bold and crisp, it reminds me of toothpaste and i get the urge to eat it. Would it be soft, like toothpaste? Or crunchy, like hard candy? I want to eat it to find out, but since I can’t, I can only stare at it again and again as I try and figure the answer. It also feels like tubes of neon illuminating the night, and like a zap of electricity. It’s something about those colours being so bold that draws me in. I want to touch it. I want to crunch it. I want to squeeze it. I can’t think of many paintings that intrigue me so much and draw such a strong emotion. (thegirlsinthecity)

Internet Cat by hannahlockillustration commentary: Look. At. Those. Colours. It’s so bright and vibrant and full of joy. I want to 1) hug the cat, he looks very fluffy, and 2) jump into the screen and live in this vibrant world. It almost hurts my eyes, in the best possible way. I keep zooming in to look at all the little details. I want to burn this image into my eyelids. (thegirlsinthecity)

and one artist who respectfully declined to have their art entered!

grendel-menz

[marrowcrunch]

What are your top 3 favorite vtm clans (or bloodlines)?

Bonus: which clan do you think you'd fit in with? :3c

Oh boy, this is going to be long lol

Favorite: Tzimisce 

Gosh, what a surprise :O

But yeah. I mean, firstly, the cool factor is undeniable. It's always such a joy designing Tzimisce characters because even toeing the strictest borderlines of canon they're allowed to get real weird with it in a way that most other clans aren't. I don't mean this as hate at all so I hope it doesn't come across like that, all clans are beautiful <3 but if you're playing Ventrue, Brujah, Tremere etc to some degree you'll always just be playing as Some Guy. With a Tzim it’s like…Do you want some sick-ass bone blades on your arms? No problem! Another pair of arms to put more bone blades on? Sounds good! Do you want to be bioluminescent like a squid? Great! Go crazy! 

Second: Full disclosure, I am the “My fursona is my TWOO SELF” flavor of furry. And the idea of having near total freedom of form— to be able to give myself a tail, claws, fangs, horns, [long censor beep], whatever I want, to abandon my human shape, fills me with Yearning. 

In the complete opposite direction, I also find personal meaning in the clan as someone who suffers from chronic pain. Shamelessly copy-pasting a reply to another post: 

The flavoring of Vicissitude as a creeping infection, as the actual body of the Eldest spread from generation to generation, able to rise up and consume its bearers at any moment, resonates with me very deeply as someone whose pain is caused by congenital tissue defects and which will inevitably get worse over time.

The idea that…there’s something horrible lurking inside your body. It can’t be cured. It can’t be removed. It is part of the very fabric of your being. And it is going to eat you alive, it is going to eat and eat until there’s nothing left. That no matter how you struggle, eventually it’s going to win. But you struggle anyways, because what the hell else is there to do?

The clan also has its revenant families, who are all collectively my most Specialist Little Guy in the world. I am a huge sucker for ye old trope of Special Family Bloodline Technique, and they scratch that itch for me in a really fun and interesting way. 

Second favorite: Giovanni. I actually don't have any deep reasons for this one, I just think that “fucked up necromancer vampire crime family” is such a fun concept lol. I like organized crime stories. It's also another one for the “bloodline technique” category— in v20, they even have their own associated revenant family, the Rossellinis! 

Third favorite: Salubri. The vibe I get is that they’re deeply underappreciated because people feel like their designation in both fluff and crunch as “the nice ones” means that they’re boring and clash with Masquerade’s overall tone. But I STRONGLY disagree— I think that's exactly what gives them so much potential for the sort of personal, existential horror that is supposed to be at the heart of Masquerade. I actually want to write a much longer post sometime that really gets into why, but part of it is this— being a magical pacifist unicorn prancing in a sunny flower field isn't “horrifying,” but being a magical pacifist unicorn in a dark forest where the only other animals are wolves that want to eat your face sure is. I also think the contrast between mainline (healer) Salubri and Salubri antitribu is a really rich thematic vein— again, I want to write more on this later. 

Bloodline lightning round:

Ahrimanes: Cat-themed woman power. I like the concept of Gangrel in tune with the spiritual elements of nature. Spirits in World of Darkness are fun because they can be anything. 

Ventrue antitribu: Knights in modern settings are cool.

However, if the question was “Which clan are you most like?” instead of “What's your favorite”, the answer is far and away Toreador. I love making art, and while I mostly just write now because my body has kind of fallen apart, I used to dabble in a bunch of different mediums and loved them all. That and I already do the “oh that flower/painting/ random pattern of light on the wall is really pretty *zones out and stares at it*” thing in real life lol so that would just be business as usual. If I couldn't be a Meat Criminal this is actually the clan I'd choose to be embraced into. 

Thanks for giving me a chance to talk :)

[nekosd43]

the saga continues

I am still not moved. My partner just informed me that his mom (the reason we were held up) might be putting the move on hold indefinitely. I'm so tired. All my shit is in boxes. I've had to start UN packing because things I packed in May when I didn't need them (like my work clothes) I need now that it's September.

My partner had COVID for the 5th time so I haven't actually seen him in over a month. Our 19th anniversary is Monday but we're probably not going to get to do anything special because we're both just so worn out.

His cat has kidney stones and needs surgery.

My dad's cancer diagnosis is moving a lot faster than I think anyone anticipated. It went from an "oh we will wait and see" to a "you're going to die in six months if we don't start chemo immediately". He starts chemo this week.

My grandmother was hospitalized last week for what looked like it might be bladder cancer (thankfully it was not), but my family has been in serious denial about her situation. She turned 95 this year, is incapable of standing or walking for more than a few seconds, won't eat without being forced to, and is incapable of living alone.

My aunt and my mom have been living with her in shifts for two years, but they wanted to lie to the hospital about this because they refuse to admit they might need more help. I know they're doing the best job they can but they are not nurses and they are not trained, and their refusal to accept the reality of the situation is stressful.

Grandma gets out of the nursing home today and they're going back to the way things were without reflecting on the "maybe it IS time to get full time help instead of doing all this unpaid labor ourselves when we're not qualified." Which means half the week my mom will not be here to help with my dad when he's on chemo, which means it will be my responsibility because my brother is not available to help.

I'm working full time (not for full time pay of course because why would we pay a fully credentialed substitute who is doing all the same work that a teacher would do the same rate as a teacher???) at a school that is apparently the epicenter of the right wing insanity that has overtaken my school district.

Our school board is being held hostage by extremists that openly talk on social media how they think all teachers are child molesters and groomers. Apparently I was targeted by one of these people because I asked students for pronouns on the first day of school (it was a private, optional question on a survey of getting to know you questions). I intentionally have not gone looking for the attacks but I'm very afraid about what these people might be saying about me and what that might mean for my job.

Also my feet are just... fucked up. They just really hurt. My ankle makes crunching noises when I walk. I'm really tired. I probably have mixed IBS but I've been too busy to get it checked out. All my art supplies are packed and my ipad is starting to give up the ghost so drawing is hard and I haven't had any fun of any kind in at least two months. My ttrpg stuff is in boxes. I miss my friends, I miss hosting my game club, I miss having a cat, I miss DND, I'm frustrated with my family's behavior, I'm frustrated with my partner's situation, I'm frustrated with my work life, I'm tired and I'm scared.

I genuinely feel like I'm being stepped on.

[gamerbearmira]

Porcelain skin

As the day wore on the hardened skin only spread further. they wouldn't be able to hide it much longer.

Mirabel didn't know what scared her more, what was happening won't stop or telling abulia. 

After another it was lunch and they were both getting hungry. 

Stopping Mirabel brought out the lunches she'd packed for both of them. Antonio finished eating quickly and started playing with his new animal friends that had come to join them. This made her happy it was a good distraction for him.

  For the next few minutes Mirabel just sat there eating watch Antonio run around till he fell

Antonio was able to catch himself, for the most part all except for his knee that slammed into the ground.

Mirabel shot up rushing over with some of her mama's food in hand.

Dropping down next to him Mirabel rapidly start asking questions Antonio are you ok, does it hurt, what happened 

The next words that Antonio spoke made her stomach drop

"Mira Mirabel i can't move my leg!" Fear was evident in his voice flipping antonio over and taking a look revealed that his knee was completely fine the reason why was obvious and much worse

The hard glass-like skin had grown to completely cover the joint making the leg unmoveable. 

Inside Mirabel was terrified but she didn't let it show that would only make Antonio more scared. 

With her support She got him on his feet problem was that with only one leg Antonio was forced to jump around well holding on to her kind like how people with crunch moved well at least that's what she'd read no one ever need crutches in the encanto

Lucky for theme a solution quickly protected itself parce Antonio new jaguar friend crochet down indicating for Antonio to get on his back 

Lifting Antonio up Mirabel succeed in getting him on parce back

Packing up there lunch Mirabel could only think of what she was going to do

quickly coming a decision she desired to tell abulala what was happening after dinner tonight 

If it was just herself she could handle what was going on but she wouldn't risk Antonio.

no matter what happened to her she would make sure Antonio was safe. 

Hi there couple of things first I'm back from vacation seconds I thought I would send in something I have been working on hope you like it 

Also if you have any tips to improve my writing and lengthen my chapter that would be greatly appreciated

Sorry one more thing that picture you made gave my an idea may I use it don't worry I will give you credit also I may not use it just thought I'd ask I didn't want to steal your work

-----

Ok one. AMAZING❗❗ Love it so far. As for tips ummmm, I would say? Maybe add some more dialogue, or even descriptions when you don't want talking. AND AND. Something I do a lot: explore characters point of views. You know, write it from their eyes, that's what I do; it explores what they're thinking and it helps add more length <33

ALSO I AM SO SORY FOR NOT SEEING THIS SOONER. I don't get notified of submissions, and I often answer asks from my notifications board, so I often don't see things like this u til I actually go to the inbox itself. Sorry <333

And yes❗❗ You can use my art, I don't mind as long as you credit me. Even if you don't end up using, I don't mind.

[the-cosmos-withinus]

Why do I hear crunching?

THIS IS THE LAST ASK LIKE THIS I'M GOING TO ANSWER

I have a pinned post that states what my rules regarding the askbox are and I have updated it to try to be more clear about what sort of questions are and are not appropriate to send here. Please read them.

I've answered a few in a similar vein to this because I had funny response, but I cannot emphasize this enough, this is not an RP blog, it's an art and writing archive based on a private au RP on discord that I will answer questions about

and I have said repeatedly that am not responding to ask directly interacting with Philip and Astrophel because you are not a character in our RP

The closest thing to that I actually answer is things like creating a situation for them to react to, and if that's the intent here, the rule for that is you can create situations but there is no 'you' to participate in the situations with them.

But even if that's what you were intending this to be a situation for them to react to, this ask is far too vague to respond to regardless. Why is there crunching? What's making the crunching? Is this ask directed at Philip or Astrophel? What sort of response am I supposed to make from this??? Beats the hell out of me-

-because this ask reads very much like you are trying to 'catch' monster Philip/Belos in the middle of eating someone, which would also be god-modding (controlling my character) if this actually were an RP blog and also shows blatant disregard of my portrayal.

I like making these little art responses, it's been a fun way to explain some of the AU's lore, and most of the asks I get are on anon so I don't want to turn it off. I can block anons and I will if this continues, but I don't want to have to do that either. Please read my rules and send appropriate asks for the type of blog this is.

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (16 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

The Less Clan healer’s alcove was not nearly as cozy as that of the First. Killian did not see any beds, or even seating, for that matter. Patch’s limited supplies were gathered at the base of a dead tree. Killian found a flat spot by the wall and dropped heavily to the ground. Patch tossed a ball of fluffy plant fibers, dripping with disinfectant, in Killian's direction, then pointed at the stiff stain of blood on his upper leg. Wincing, he reached forward and scooped it into the bloodstained claw his hand had become. Minerals dissolved in solution began a chemical reaction within his open wounds, its bubbles like boiling water poured all over his palm. Growling, Killian dropped the fibers into position covering the tooth punctures in his thigh, and the vigorous fizz soon had that area similarly aflame.

Killian sat back, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth. It would be easier to bear if it had any meaning, but as it was, he had gained nothing but more injuries to add to his extensive collection… some serious, potentially even life-altering. He was no closer to rescuing Puzzle and thus could take no solace in possibly getting one step closer to Alice. Frustration offered no balm, only salt rubbed into throbbing wounds. 

Killian bit back a yelp as Patch began scrubbing roughly at his mutilated palm, which was no more than he had expected from an enemy caretaker, but still felt like Hellfire seeping its way down to the bone. Those long hours spent under Mandible’s paws seemed like pure bliss compared to this. 

“I am sorry,” murmured Patch with surprising sympathy. “You will thank me later.” 

“Maybe,” Killian grunted, trying not to squirm. “I am a bit partial to this hand. Would prefer not to lose it.” 

Patch dipped her cloth into fresh disinfectant and resumed her task. “I cannot promise anything.”

Some excruciating length of time later, the scrubbing gave way to that unique red-hot shock that could only belong to one thing: the helpless insect he was growing too familiar with. Through the squeezing heat of its venom, Killian heard the quiet crunch as its body disappeared between Patch’s jaws. 

“You may have the next one,” offered Patch. 

With gritted teeth, Killian shook his head. “No thank you.” 

Eating insects always stirred up unpleasant memories of desperate times. And he was too woozy to be hungry at the moment anyway. Still, considering how much of a delicacy Patch’s species considered them to be, it was kind of her to offer. Killian risked a quick glance at the next struggling ant, just to confirm its identity. 

“I was under the impression that your rivals were the only clan to use Warrior Ants in their healing arts.” 

It wasn't a particularly important question, but it gave him something to take his mind off of the ruins of his hand he’d just glimpsed. Patch carefully applied the next set of jaws.

“Mandible told you that?” 

“Yes…” He thought for a moment, then amended, “Actually, it may have been along the lines of his being the one to perfect the technique.”

“That is closer to what he told me as well.” 

“You've spoken to him?” 

Killian had thought that the animosity between the two clans would prevent any casual contact between their members. To his surprise, Patch said, 

“I learned most of my healing skills from him.” 

Figuring that any additional intelligence about clan dynamics could be used to his advantage, Killian asked, 

“How did that come about?” 

The Less healer glanced up at his face in brief hesitation before responding. “I was born to the First Clan and discovered my purpose there. Mandible is a good instructor, and it was only after he taught me all he knew that I became the chief healer of the Prime Clan.” 

“And what made you decide to switch sides?” 

Patch set aside her container of ants and opened a pouch containing bandaging material. “Our Chieftains arranged a trade. The Prime had just lost their only healer, and the First needed a skilled metal forger.”

Killian had been watching the monkey's face but lacked the ability to read complex emotions. Thus, he could not tell how Patch felt about the situation. 

“Were you given any sort of say in this trade?” 

Patch waited until her bandaging job was underway before answering slowly. “Favor willed it so.” 

Killian managed to turn a derisive scoff into an only slightly exaggerated grunt of pain. “Just because someone is in authority over you, it doesn't mean they have your best interests in mind. Quite often, the opposite is true.” 

Patch said nothing and Killian did not press the issue. A moment of silence elapsed, then he sighed. 

“I suppose you’re completely loyal to your new clan now. Considering the infallible wisdom of the two chieftains. You couldn't possibly have retained any sense of belonging to the family who raised you. Not a dutiful servant such as yourself.” 

Patch would not meet his gaze. Killian allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope and tried a gentler tone. “You couldn't be blamed for not feeling the same animosity. Especially if you still have friends on the other side. Look, surely you don't condone this whole kidnapping business, after having been through something like it yourself.” 

With nimble paws, Patch secured the bandage and sat back on her haunches. She glanced over her shoulder, then said, 

“My opinion does not matter.” 

Killian lowered his voice, even though there was no other being in sight.

“You're the only one who might be able to help! You know I don't stand a chance against Quake; not like this.” He indicated his freshly bandaged hand and winced. Patch remained motionless, and Killian dared to believe he saw indecision in her eyes. 

“Think back to when you were first brought here,” he urged. “You must have felt so frightened and alone; I know I would have. It couldn't have been easy, knowing you may never see your friends or family again. Do you really want to leave Princess Puzzle to that same fate? Or arguably worse, considering her intended role?” 

Patch's coppery fur puffed out in a sudden shiver, and she busied herself once again among the tools of her trade.

“Of course not,” she hissed, eyes averted. “But what can I do? Lack would never listen to me. If I spoke up, it would only anger him, and that would make life very difficult for me.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Killian assured her, trying and failing to find a comfortable position in which to rest his hand. “Perhaps just some information; something I could have found out on my own if I’d had enough time. Doesn’t have to be anything that could be traced back to you. I would be grateful for anything at this point.” He raised an eyebrow and flashed what he hoped was an encouraging smile at her. “So… what do you say?”

Patch had turned her attention to the bites on his leg, tending them through a rip in his trousers, and she did not answer immediately. When she did begin speaking, she kept her volume to a level just barely audible.

“The princess is under guard at the edge of the marshland to the south of here. Chief Lack is fiercely possessive and does not trust the rest of the clan to be in easy contact with her, so she will be kept out of the way until she is mature enough that he can claim her. If you could manage to defeat her guards, it’s likely you would not meet much resistance all the way to the edge of Prime territory. Hardly anyone ventures into the marshes. Predatory and venomous reptiles call that place home.”

Killian did not relish the thought of another confrontation, but with all the references to “escorts” and “guards,” he knew it was all but inevitable. “Do you know how many are guarding her?”

“My best guess, only two at a time. They will be formidable warriors, but female. No cause for a jealous chieftain to worry.”

Killian nodded slowly, calculating. He would learn the way there whenever he was granted his request to visit Puzzle. They would be more alert to trouble at that time, but perhaps he could steal away later in the evening… that, of course, would mean navigating unfamiliar and hostile territory in the dark, without a map… what were the chances the princess would know the way home?

“There is a secret trail through the marshlands,” Patch said hesitantly. “As a young First scout, I would accompany a group of warriors to spy on the Prime, using the marshes as our route in and out. You only need to travel in a straight line between the stripe-barked trees, and there will be solid ground beneath the mud.” 

She began winding a bandage around his thigh, adding, 

“I do not believe the Prime are aware of this path. The final tree, the one up on solid ground… it points the way to a Stone Forest entrance within First territory. Head northwest a short distance and you will come to the border where you first encountered the Prime sentries earlier today. From there, you can simply retrace your steps to return Princess Puzzle to her family.”

“Easy enough,” replied Killian, already so exhausted from merely thinking about the journey. Travel through the treacherous bog would require at least some daylight, so a night-time rescue was out of the question. “Are there no sentries at the other end of the marsh?”

“There is always a risk, wherever you are along the border.” She tied a secure knot on the bandage, then reached up to pull his shirt away from the scratches adorning his ribs. He did his best to assist, using his stump to hold his shirt out of the way while she applied the abrasive antiseptic to the scratches. 

Now that he knew where the princess was being held, perhaps he would not need to stage the rescue while in his current state. He could bring his findings to the First, wait to regain the use of his hand, then return using the back way through the marsh for a more capable rescue. Even if the First clung to their stubborn beliefs about interference and refused to accompany him, at least he would stand more of a chance against the pair of Less guards. It would mean a longer imprisonment for Puzzle, which would be unfortunate, but probably worth it if it meant a greater chance of success. However… all of this depended on the Less keeping their word and letting him go the next morning. And he had already learned not to take their promises at face value. 

“Tell me, Patch... what do you think the chances are that I'm truly set free in the morning?”

She ducked her head slightly, ears flattening in an almost cringing motion. “They will keep their word. You will be escorted from here and released into First territory. Then…”

She trailed off, and it didn’t really need to be said. Killian closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest back against the wall. “Fair game?” 

“I am sorry,” she confirmed. “The Torn are not worthy of the gods’ attention. Chief Lack’s misleading of you will not provoke their wrath.” 

Killian sighed. “I was a bloody fool, thinking I could come in here and do some good for once. So, in summary: in the morning, I could choose to release the princess only for me to remain behind to be eaten, ensuring that she would be recaptured swiftly. I could leave her behind, take my chances with the entire Prime Clan, and if by some miracle, I managed to escape, sneak back through the lizard-infested swamp to attempt to break her out when I'm stronger. Or, I could make my move today when I'm escorted to visit her, while everyone is on high alert for just such a thing and I have no usable hands and a similar measure of reserve strength. Would you say that's an accurate assessment of my three equally terrible options?” 

Patch put the finishing touches on her dressing, stopped to scratch her back with a hind paw, then paused, deep in thought. Killian watched her with one eye slitted open. 

“Wait here,” she finally said, then dashed off. Alone with scattered thoughts and pains old and new, Killian heaved a quiet groan as he attempted to rest. His hand throbbed unbearably, feeling three sizes too big, and the pressure from the bandage offered little relief. He tried wiggling each finger in turn, and the only partial victory came with a feeble twitch of his pinky. He winced and gave up.

“Oh Alice,” he sighed. “Your papa is not nearly as clever, brave, or strong as either of us believed. You deserve so much better.”

Some white knight he was. Bloody white elephant, more like. How many times had he counseled her to never give up, to believe in herself and her dreams of freedom? Too many to number, surely. If she could see him now, this bloodied, defeated mockery of the example he’d always endeavored to be for her, she would be met with the reality he had so naively sought to deny: he was not father material, and never had been. His upbringing and a long life of depravity had corrupted his soul, and the love he felt for her was not enough to compensate. It would have always come to this, sooner or later. Captain Hook deserved only suffering, and he’d been a fool to hope for a happy ending.

But… even if he didn’t deserve happiness, certainly Alice did? As much as it felt like the universe was conspiring to make him fail, he had to believe that Alice’s innocence would add weight to the opposite end of the scale. He tried to envision her adoring smile in an effort to wipe away the imagined disappointment that had festered a little bit more deeply inside with each additional failure. He needed to take his own encouragement to heart. 

Mindset is everything, he recited at the vision of his daughter. 

Everything starts with belief, the memory of her voice chimed in. And he swallowed his pain, drowned the discouragement, and met the eyes of a returning Patch with weary resolve.

“I have informed Chief Lack that you require one hour’s rest before you visit the princess,” Patch told him. “I can mix a draught that will boost your energy for a short period, but it will work better if you have a chance to relax first.”

She stopped nearby, clutching a small pouch and looking Killian over once again. Silent, he nodded his assent. Patch scoured their surroundings for any sign of eavesdroppers, then she lowered her voice.

“Now. This is the course of action I would advise you to take…”

[snowmuttgetsweird]

07/31/24, morning

Actually slept okay. I would really have preferred to get, like, at least one more hour, but for once I didn't wake up at like, 5 AM randomly so I'll take it. I've actually heard that sleeping worse is a common side effect of being at a caloric deficit, so maybe that's actually a good sign...? I haven't been counting my calories really- just my protein, though even that I know I've been undercutting quite a bit. I'm probably getting about 100g on average, when I should really be shooting for at least 130-150g, but it's just really hard to convince my stomach AND my wallet to consume that much food in one day. This might be a "you just need to incorporate protein powder into more meals/snacks throughout the day" situation. I'll do some research, but honestly, this early into my "fitness journey," I don't think my body is going to do a lot with that much protein anyway.

Decided the overnight oats need to be eaten pretty quickly. While distracted by another activity like drawing or posting art or something, I tend to eat and drink very slowly, so yesterday it probably took me an hour to eat my oats, and they got pretty gloopy and unpleasant after a while. Good to know.

Red Beans and Rice were a great success. Best pot I've made so far. Added a red bellpepper to the usual trinity, diced everything up MUCH finer than I usually would, threw in a good scoop of bacon fat after browning my andouille to sautee my veggies in, cut a few seasonings in favor of a couple big tbsp of Tony Chachere's, threw in a few dashes of a nice vinegary hot sauce, and simmered the whole mess WAY longer than I normally do- like twice as long. Blown away by the result. I was worried the Tony Chachere's being mostly salt would keep the beans from softening, but cooking them down longer made up the difference just fine, and now I've got a vat of rich, delicious red beans and rice that'll feed me for like a week! Think the only thing I regret is not having some cornbread and collard greens to go with it all. Next time I wanna source a ham hock to throw in too.

Still keeping up my morning exercises. I decided what I'd originally committed to was too much too early, so I've mostly been doing 3x10 knee push-ups, 3x20 crunches, and 3x20 glute bridges the last few days, but I think I'm gonna be ready to tack the bicycle crunches back on soon, and I'm just about ready to graduate to full push-ups. I can see myself trimming up a little bit, and my shoulders starting to fill out just a little, but I think it's mostly just that I've been shedding water weight. I haven't been using my scale the last week or so- the battery died and I keep forgetting to grab a replacement, so I don't know how much I'm actually losing, but again I'm pretty confident it's mostly just a combination of water loss and eating less overall, and fewer things that would make me bloated or gassy shrinking my tummy.

I'm very used to starting a new exercise routine, and then quitting out through shear distraction about a week later, but I'm really doing my best and this is the longest I've kept it up in a while. That said, I haven't had much DOMS since I first started besides a little achiness in my thighs the day after squats here and there, and it's making me nervous. I hope I'm not sabotaging myself by not lifting heavy enough or something, but even my shoulders didn't get achy despite really struggling on even just 10lb dumbbells for my side lateral raises. I couldn't even quite finish a 3x10 that way- I think I got to, like, 3x8 and had to tap cause I couldn't even really do a decent partial rep by that point. I was really expecting that I'd be sore after but my shoulders are absolutely fine. Well, yesterday was my "rest day." I didn't even hop on the treadmill, though I wanted to, but being that I hadn't walked much yesterday anyway since I was just drawing all day, I wasn't exactly prepared to spend 100 minutes on a treadmill to hit my 10k steps for that day anyway. Today I'm back on weights though. I think I've got a good idea of what I should be lifting for each exercise, but I think I might still need to up my squat weight more. We'll see tonight.

Think that's about it... Uh, final thoughts: Furikake and sriracha are great, they make like 50% of all my meals right now way way better. My shift at the day job today is short enough that I won't really wanna bring a lunch, but I think I'm gonna hardboil an egg to snack on anyway to try to cram a little more protein.

Think that's it. Think I'm gonna try to relax and conserve some energy before work- maybe read my book and clean up around the apartment just a bit. I need to hit up my friends and try to get them to play pickleball with me or something.

Tchuss.

[apriiicotx]

Lady killer I(1)

This is a heavy draft and I’m having fun, so don’t be a dickkk lol. also tumblr is being a dick as well with the word count, so im uploading part one into two parts

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Beep, Beep, Beep! The loud ringing sound of the alarm clock echoes throughout the small dormitory space. The rays of sunlight slightly peek through the curtains as a chill breeze makes its way into the small aperture of the cracked window. Vira rubs her eyes, letting out a slight groan as she reaches under her pillow to stop the alarm on her phone. She checked her lock screen and read 8:00 am‒It was time to start her day. Vira had a schedule she followed every day: Make her bed, shower, skincare, and then study before class. She sat there looking through her finance notes, her phone buzzed from a message she received. Vira checked the message, 

“Wanna grab brekkie? Pls pls say yes, don't be a bum.”

It was Vira’s friend named Kash. She met him at her job, they were coworkers for a few months but he later quit and hasn’t left her alone since. Yet, she doesn’t block him, and fun secret: she enjoys being friends with him. Vira closes her notebook and slips it into her bag, packing up her utensils and school supplies.

“Can’t you eat breakfast by yourself bruh���‒Vira

“No. mwah, come to louty hall. We should get coffee. I’ll buy u ur grass fed premium gmo gluten free zero calorie tea”‒Kash

“you think you’re funny. Matcha is actually good wym”‒Vira Vira tossed her leather jacket on along with her black bag and headed out the door as it closed behind her. Placing her dark green headphones on her ear, she pushes back the curly pieces that caught her helix piercing and tucks it behind. Today was awfully bright for such chilly weather, the multiple trees that surrounded the side of the walking path, and the leaves were a beautiful orange tint‒fall. Step by step by step, Vira felt the leaves crunch under her boots as more fell from the tree onto the sidewalk. She reached her location within a few minutes, luckily the town was small, so everything was within walking distance. Vira walked in and the cafe was quite busy. Since it was morning, people from town would come in and purchase from the cafe before it was student hours. Vira pushed past the mini crowd near the cash register and headed towards the back to find her friend. She looked to the left of her and saw Kash sitting on the patio outside, he gave her a soft smile and a wave to come over. Vira opened the patio door and walked towards the table, setting down her bag. The red ceramic cup steamed from the coffee table, it had one of those latte leaf art, Kash laid out their hand in the direction of the seat in front of him and the matcha.”Seeee” he paused. “I told you I got your boujee ass tea”. Vira pulled back the chair and sat down, “Oh, I hope it didn’t hurt your pockets too bad”. She giggled and puckered her lips in a teasing way. Kash rolled his eyes and smiled. “Tuh!” She placed her headphones on the table and picked up the red cup, taking a sip. She scrunched her brows at the taste‒the matcha was more on the bitter side, did she really look like a no-sugar type of girl? Vira stared into the distance, watching the little river flow down the rocks and the huge white oak tree hanging from the edge of a hill, seeing small parts of its root exposed at the bottom. The wind blew a few leaves into the river as it flowed along the current to wherever the bottom was.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

authors note:

Tumblr was giving me a really hard time... part two here

[missmusicmary]

The Southern Table Athens, AL

Sunday Brunch menu

Since moving to Athens, Alabama (a surprising omen I believe may hint at me one day moving to Athena, Greece), my boyfriend and I have been on a hunt of what places excite our tastebuds. As odd as it may be to begin with a huge photo of a glass of sweet tea, in the south a good glass of tea is art. This glass of tea was pure diabetis (and yes, I am referencing the diabetis meme). This is the first glass of tea we have had that we approved of. Now when we walk around the town square on a blistering hot and humid day, we have a goto stop for a southern water.

First up:

Fried Green Tomatoes

Be warned, pimento cheese is also on top of them, ew. However, nothing alittle scraping action did not fix!

Although unpictured, there were seven tomatoes perfectly fried in a cornmeal batter. The aioli was amazing! It was zesty, tangy, and inviting. I actually beat my boyfriend to most of them!

Main yum:

Southern Burger

Some say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and some chefs say we eat with our eyes first.

The meal started off great with my boyfriend being so excited mentioning the chef's detail of the most wonderfully toasted top bun. Not to mention the same aioli from the fried green tomatoes! However, the joy was short lived. The bottom bun was burnt, a disappointment he went on about randomly for the rest of the day. Bacon, the salty mouth watering crunch that always brightens up a meal. Bacon, a meat that people compete on cooking. Bacon, an important ingredient that gives fat, salinity, crunch, and smokiness. The Southern Table must have missed the memo on what bacon should be, on what bacon could be. Their bacon tasted as if it was cooked an hour prior and sat on a hot plate to get soggy. There is a difference on purposefully flaccid bacon versus bacon not maintained to keep the integrity of its cook. The onion rings were under seasoned, while the fries were on the edge of tasting fresh. Atleast the fries were making me come back for more of them.

Chicken Biscuit Gravy

This dish has so much potential to be a heart fluttering explosion. These elements are my favorite things to eat!

My first bite of the biscuit and gravy had me question my food pallet. I am used to a homemade gravy, sometimes spiced with ground pepper for what I know as a traditionally southern peppered gravy. Lord knows my mother adds too much pepper. She even burnt most bacon, and because of that, I do not mind eating burnt crispy meat at times! However, this gravy was so unexpected I dived back in a few times throughout the meal to assess my feelings. This gravy is an onion gravy, with limited salt and no pepper. I am honestly not sure it is from scratch due to the sauce looking broken. The biscuit looked and tasted dense. It was pure Bisquick mix. I was really looking forward to a fresh biscuit considering all the photos the business posts. I know there are different kind of biscuits, but I was still trying to assess where the funky taste was coming from, that I did not focus on the biscuit until later in the meal. I eventually figured out the weird taste was onions in the gravy, and a huge metallic and salty taste in the biscuit. They were probably trying to hide the fact it tasted like Bisquick.

The fried chicken. Oh the love of my taste buds since I was a toddler. The one thing my family could always count on. My 'emergency frozen food' that is ALWAYS in the freezer. Such high high hopes. The chicken was moist, and yet rubbery. The flavor of a fast food joint I have not pinpointed yet. The batter looked old, the way it congealed to the chicken reminded me of post freezer burned frozen chicken.

Lastly, the potatoes. Frozen, over cooked, maybe double cooked, and sat in a hot plate. No way the potatoes are fresh.

Ketchup. Thank you ketchup.

My ending feelings are mixed. Maybe our bad experiences were due to arriving 30 minutes after opening, or the fact it was a brunch menu. I will always go back for the tea and fried green tomatoes. That is a definite. As far as brunch again, I would rather cook at home. I am willing to return for dinner, even though it is expensive, to determine if it is a menu that fills me with happiness.

Appetizer: 11/10

Main: 3/10

Honorable mentions: sweet tea and aioli

[janiestumb]

Tokyo

Yesterday’s early morning rain and wind made for a humid, sunny mid-morning. Yesterday’s 7-10am weather event was truly the only weather wrinkle in an unexpectedly warm trip thus far. So I won’t even remotely complain. But I had planned to take the train to Kamakura at 8am and hike to Buddhist and Shinto shrines in the wilderness early so I could make my way back to Tokyo for a pre-planned omakase at 6.

I, of course, did consider hiking in the rain. Because I’m nuts here. More on that later. But when the unfriendly weather and time crunch forced a pivot, I decided to listen to reason (Pee Wee) and escape the heat in some of Tokyo’s truly overwhelming number of museums (dedicated to art! origami! military weapons! packaging!) and continue to do what I love most here. Walk and walk and walk and and walk. And walk and walk. And walk. And have a coffee and charge my phone. And find a bakery and eat bread. And think and look and go "wow" and take a picture. And walk and walk.

At about 10am, I was making my way north toward a museum complex in Ueno when I found myself sweaty, frizzy and self-conscious in the modern, airy business district of Toranomon.

From the moment I arrived in Tokyo, I have felt incredibly out of place here. Not just for my phenotype, but because I am dressed like a piece of shit. That said — despite sticking out, no one in Tokyo has given me even the slightest sense that I don’t belong or any sense of judgment. This is internal. I keep expecting France-style side-eye and getting none!

Before coming here, I of course knew that Tokyo style would be cool, but I am still blown away. People are dressed breathtakingly, stunningly simply and chicly. Not just some people. All people. I mean it.

The common cut of women’s clothes is loose but well-fitted, modest and refined. Not a lot of extraneousness. No prints. No logos. Nothing flashy. Just clean, interesting, modern but classic, and perfect.

“Loose” for locals is not for me. I learned this the fun way a few days ago when I tried on a pleated skirt with an elastic waist at a boutique in one of my favorite new areas, Nekameguro. Already feeling like a hulking ogre in my clunky hiking shoes, dirty shorts and anything-but-understated backpack, I squeezed the skirt over my hips and it squinched my stomach like a hairband. I pulled back the dressing curtain and signed to the shop clerk, “bigger?”, making a circle with my thumbs and pointers and then expanding. She shook her head. “Only one.”

Yes, stores sometimes carry only one size, and that size is too small for me.

So there I was, yesterday, in my extremely non-modest leggings showing off my above-average-for-this-city size, feeling self-conscious that I brought a short, purple rain jacket when that is simply not the cut nor color here, and I was wondering about the salary men.

At every corner in the large district of Minato City, there are groups of men waiting for the walk signal (no jay-walking here) in extremely expensive-looking suits, all going to or from this office or that. Where are they going? What do they do all day?

Sometimes you travel to a place and wish you lived there (Portugal), but this is not one of those places for me. I am obsessed with this city. My heart and mind are expanding at an untenable pace, but I have no desire to live here because I recognize that my life as an outsider is totally different than that of someone living here with a career.

Work-life balance in Tokyo is notoriously tough. My dinner host from Sunday (who I have to devote an entire other blog post to) told me that her late husband used to come home at 11pm and leave for work again at 7am. You get PTO, but never for more than a week at a time, and then sometimes you have to cover for a coworker, so actually just forget it. Time off is never a guarantee. But for me? Without travel, I would be dead.

What’s unbelievably moving to me, in contrast, is that wedged between the modern office buildings, and skyscrapers and businesses and monuments to capital, there are extremely old, fucntional shinto shrines.

And as people come and go throughout their day, they actually use those shrines. They follow the ritual — cleansing their hands and mouths when they enter, bowing, clapping, praying, then bowing again at the exit. Imagine if you were in New York on a Tuesday at 10am, hustling your way from the gynecologist on E 72nd to your office at a media company on 23rd, and on the way you stopped for a quick traditional prayer. It’s breathtaking to see.

Some very brief, reductive info on Shinto - it’s not something you can convert to. It’s Japan’s native belief system. Japanese people can practice it along with Buddhism. Not at odds. I told my host I loved the shrines and she asked if I could even enter because I’m Judeo-Christian. (This is not an unreasonable question! I googled it. Some Christians feel they can not!) My version of spirituality is “all roads lead to the same place and g-d is everywhere.” If I don’t have to pray to a deity or through an intermediary, it’s a go.

Anyway, every day of my life, I feel like I have to make up for lost years, for time spent dealing with death, for giving away my life to career paths that spat on me and a dude who sucked, for actually never having PTO because I was full-time but freelance (still mad), and of course COVID. This is my first non-working vacation in a really really really really long time. And I haven’t had PTO in about a decade.

Yesterday, contemplating what work is all for, I texted my friend “But what do salary men do?” He responded, “I think we are salary men.”

Here’s the thing — he is right.

I had a career pivot this year. I officially stuck the landing of re-entering the full-time employee corporate sphere, selling my soul for health insurance, but the tradeoff for benefits has been that I find myself having to wake up at 7am, sign on and work until 6pm, without ever having the chance to even change into real clothes. I’m still falling behind somehow, and the stress is horrible. (Funny enough, my large mega-corp is based out of Japan.)

I think that’s part of why this trip feels like I’ve been shot out of a rocket. All I do all day long is sit sit sit. Every day is the same. There’s no movement. There’s no meaning. No nothing. Lately, it’s been actually kind of stupidly bad because all that’s consuming me beyond the drudgery of whatever I’m doing is the barrage of horror in the world and my sadness over the way the government is handling it and people are handling it online, my disillusionment with what it means to be progressive, and America slipping further and further into a country of hateful, gun-toting mavericks without any hope for socialized medicine. The tension between my desire to have a family and not wanting to be stuck with some loser partner, no longer being able to travel the way I like, and also wanting to throw up at the thought of what a kid being raised in our modern world has to face. To step away from that right now made me feel worried and guilty, but it has been wonderful.

And life in LA is obviously as good as it gets in America, but don’t come for me, I still think it mostly sucks. It isn’t a city for walkers. It isn’t a city for exploring. It’s a city of cars. I hate traffic and freeways and repetitiveness. And a lot of the time, I feel a weird tension with it.

[Redacted rant about LA because no one cares]

But then, to land in Tokyo. And find a New York meets Paris but way bigger, extremely safe, quiet, clean and tremendous and its entirely own thing that is so fucking pretty and cool and interesting with a phenomenal history feels like shooting off the starting block. I’m flying.

My hips are aching, my lower back is tight and my already-calloused heels have blisters. Despite my brain wanting to keep going going going going every night, at some point I have been forced to stop exploring and assess if I should rest.

I feel this spiritually too. I’m 37 and making up for lost travel time. I’m making up for all the places I haven’t yet seen and trees I haven't touched and people I haven't met and wondering when I’ll get to go back to each place I only see for the first time. My physical ability and my being alive are not guaranteed for one second longer than this moment. Soon, will I be forced to rest?

There are places I go - like here - that my mom would have loved but she never made it. I grieve her so much when I travel. She’d be proud of me. She’d know this person I become when I travel - someone who’s more curious, humble and brave - as me. There’s certain things she said to me that I carry with me when I travel, that nailed the exact kind of person in and of this world I want to be.

I always wish she was with me. She is, but she isn’t. There’s an awe I feel that I get to experience anything at all.

And every day in Japan, I’ve felt what the Portuguese call saudade, a unique nostalgia. For me, it’s for the fact that this trip will end and I’ll be back in my stupid chair 13 hours a day and then trudging through traffic to get to an office in Culver City and back. I’ll be wishing I was traveling. I’ll be feeling like each day is meaningless.

But I’ll get PTO.

Until then, I am simply here — and in life —needing to go and go and go until the wheels fall off.

[mauannacreates]

Day 2 Flufftober: Family, Friends, Loved ones

Here's my second day that I did for the flufftober Made by @flufftober. Hope you guys enjoy. (And this is my first time trying to write in Marielle's perspective.)

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I glance around the table standing in front of us. To have the wondrous Elaine sitting in the desk as she goes and fiddles with her fork. One where a smile trails across her face. And then with Tynan… The darkened knight whose brows twitches as he searches through the two of us.

It’s our first time sitting in the desk together like this. But then, we’re having a lot of firsts together as a power couple.

“Why are you so happy about this?” Elaine says, and I give a smile. 

“Because Lainy, you’re just so funny when you’re always just asking countless questions about me. “It’s like I’m an anomaly to you, lil’ sis.”

“Please do not call me your little sister.” 

“Oh, right. I forgot.” I laugh, “I’m the cool, awesome mom, while you’re the little big child who needs to be pampered in the cottage constantly.” 

“Marielle!” Elaine's hard and sharp voice says. But I keep on laughing.

“And Tynan’s the dad.” I point towards him, but he gives an unamused glance.

“Marielle.” He says, with his voice grumbles, “I am sure we talked about this.” 

“And we’ll keep on talking about it until the day we all die.” I say, as I give the greatest laugh ever… Too bad they don’t know humor. Even if both of their hearts twist against mine at the presumed sense of worse humor in the world. “Anyway, I shall have squid.” And I go and grasp the bucket that I had inside of me, and got a big headed animal with eyes dulled and tentacles flopped against the table. And their faces…! I have to laugh at how their faces twists and turns as if there’s something wrong with it…!

“Lainy, Ty, You guys have never eaten squid?” Their expressions makes it so obvious, and I turn towards Elaine. “I would think that they’d serve these sort of stuff to you, Lainy.”

“No…!” She slams the desk, but then her ears twitches, as her slit eyes glimpses towards me. But then, she sits back down on the seat. “Actually, they did serve me squid once; I hated it. So please, not under any circumstances insist that I’d have to try this slimy, barely cooked squid.” I stared at her. She’s as strict as a child without any sense of good culinaries.

“Ty! You must try it!” I say, bring it closer to him… And even he’s looking with his brows curved slightly… But it doesn’t seem of disdain.

“Is it like fish…? Like trout?”

“Ooh, it is even better!” I say, “Here, try this.” And I thrust the tentacle out until it gets pulled out. And I place it on the table as he stares at me. He goes and picks it up with his beak and starts eating it. And Lainy is just coughing and gurgling as she twists her head away. But he uses his claws to hold it as he keeps on eating it. “So, how does it taste?”

“I will admit, it is not the worst thing I tried.” He says. “But it could be better.” 

“Whaat!?” I say, “How?” And his beak twitches up. 

“Maybe with some pepper, a dash of lemon and… Parmesan.”

“Parmesan…?” Why have fish with dairy…? It tastes so much better by itself.

“You eat cheese!?” Elaine voice echos, that I nearly bounce off the table as she points towards him, and Tynan's head tilts to the side.

“Uhh, not typically.” The blue owl says, as his big wide eyes glances towards me. “I just heard that squid tentacles is great with parmesan. That is, if I’m not wrong.” And I give a nod… 

“Did you read it from a book?”

“Culinary of fine arts, seafood section, page fifty three.” Wow... That's very... Specific.

“So Ty… How often do you read books?” I say, leaning closer to him. “I mean, having to leave your own library for this? I doubt you’d have any time to read. while you're with us.” 

“Marielle, I read as often as I can. Whenever I can, wherever I can.” He says crunching his beak. “It doesn’t really matter where you’re at, as long as I'm reading something, it's is fine by me.” He eats another piece of the squid, as he glimpse towards me. “Besides, it is my dad’s, not mine.”

“But still, it’s so cool to have to meet a princess and a librarian in Aeromount Ridge… It’s so awesome…!” And with the soft smile trailing Tynan’s beak to Elaine rubbing the back of her neck… I have to admit. It’s so nice here…!  

If you guys are interested in looking into some of the other prompts that I have done from the previous months, check it out here: