#i think art block is slowly getting to me so this looks like shit i apologize

[rudycrowley]

I'm cooking something guys

[sunflowerwinds]

stick ‘n poke | e.w

summary: it’s the first day of the campers arriving and you have a discussion with ellie about tattoos. during the supervised session of the campers doing arts & crafts, she mentions that she knows how to stick ‘n poke and you take her up on the offer. late night tattooing and exposing questions ensue.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: even more flirty!ellie, oblivious!reader, needles and slight bleeding so tw for that, steve being a himbo ally.

word count: 3.6K

a/n: maybe i love this series. comments & reblogs are much much appreciated lovelies <33

under the summer stars masterlist

The first day of the children arriving was more than hectic. More of the staff came the day after everyone else had arrived like the chefs and security for the grounds. Now, the seven camp counselors, including you, stood in a row outside of the main office on the opposite side waiting for the children to come out one by one to sign in with their parents. You recognized a few familiar parents and children but there were always new faces which you loved to see.

Ellie stood on your left while Steve was on your right. The group wore white baseball short-sleeve shirts in blue, green, and red blocking with block letters reading ‘STAFF’ on the back those coordinating colors. You thought they were insanely cute compared to the years before; it was strictly neon but Dina and you begged for something less bright and more flattering.

Thankfully, Tommy, Joel’s brother, and owner of the campgrounds, heard the complaints and had the dress code changed. You forgot every year how exhausting it was trying to reassure sketchy or overprotective parents that their children are safe and are never going to be alone. Etc. You could never blame them considering what people hear a lot about summer camps: specifically slasher-type movies based around the isolation of camps.

There were a lot of kids you recognized from the summers prior, making sure to let them know it, especially the ones that recognized you first.

Once the early crowd came by and huddled into your cafeteria for a complimentary lunch before the parents headed off home, you finally were able to take a breath, turning to the auburn-haired girl with a smile.

“Jesus, I always forget how overstimulating that is. How many parents asked if I was thoroughly CPR trained?” You exasperated to which Ellie threw her arm over your clothed shoulders, tugging you in for a moment.

“Trust me, I get it. Almost every parent asks if I’m even allowed to work here because of my tattoos.” Ellie rolled her eyes and held her arm up to you, turning her wrist from side to side to show you the tattoo. “Like do they think I’m gonna just grab their kid and shove a needle into them?”

You simply chuckle, resting your head on hers. Her thumb rubbed at your shoulder through the fabric causing you to slowly close your eyes with a hum. Every touch from her felt like a stress relief.

“Definitely. They saw tattoos and thought ‘she can definitely do a stick and poke on my child.’” You hum.

“You don’t have any tattoos right?” Ellie questions as her hand moves from your shoulder to your upper back.

You shake your head with a disapproving sigh, trying not to think about how her thumb was now massaging into your tense upper muscles. What the hell was she doing? Trying to send you into a coma?

“I do want some though. They’re just expensive as hell,” you lowered your voice which Ellie hummed in agreement.

“Well, I’m sure when you do you’ll look even better than you already do,” Elise raised her eyebrows at you with a cheeky smirk.

You shrugged her arm off your shoulder and shook your head.

“Shut up,” was the only argument you could come up with as you felt flustered at her comment.

Ellie merely chuckled and held her hands out in defense. “What? You want me to lie and say you’ll look like shit?”

“I didn’t say that, Els,” you look around as she openly cusses without thinking, hoping none of the helicopter parents heard her.

Before Ellie could retort something back, the two of you heard Joel calling the whole group of counselors over. You give her a pointed look before she playfully pushes you along as you walk, making you giggle like an idiot. When you get to where Joel is standing, Ellie’s hand lingers on the middle of your back as he speaks to the entire group.

You couldn’t believe how touchy she was being. Not that you were complaining but you swore years prior she had never been as lingering with her touches with you.

“After everyone is done in the cafeteria, gather your groups so that y’all can go to the cabins and help them unpack. After that, take them to the arts cabin to make their name tags for their bunks and tie-dye their shirts for next Wednesday for the field trip to the Botanical Garden,” Joel reads off his see-through red clipboard.

The group nods as they agree to the set schedule for the day. Once every single parent had said tearful ‘goodbyes’ and ‘love you’s’, your friends began to round up their troopers for their cabin. This was arguably one of your favorite parts of camp; getting to know these adorable children.

One by one, each of the counselors called the names of all 12 of the campers for their assigned cabins. You introduced yourself to the children, smiling at them kindly in hopes they would become comfortable with you. Some of them were more shy than others but that’s usually the case.

“Okay guys, you’re just going to follow me to the cabin where everyone will put your bags down before we head on over to the art cabin. If you have any questions, any at all, do not be afraid to ask me, okay?” You look at the wide-eyed and curious faces before they all agree to your statement.

You reluctantly had to walk away from Ellie and made your way to the cabin, checking to make sure every child was accounted for once you arrived. After about half an hour passed where you explained the basic rules for camp to all the kids, you gathered them to make their way over to the art cabin.

You felt more at ease when you entered the much larger cabin to see the rest of your friend group already having the kids make the name tags. Your campers dispersed once you gave them the ‘okay’ to go and color.

Ellie gradually made her way over to where you were standing, watching over the kids to make sure they weren’t drawing anything inappropriate on their name tags. Her shoulder bumped your own, a brazen grin on her face. Your brows set in a furrow at her fidgety manner.

“What’s up, Els?” You question, turning to her.

“I may or may not have gotten stuff to do stick and pokes,” she lowered her voice, making eye contact with you.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at her words. The children were thankfully distracted by the rest of your friends to even listen to what you two were talking about.

“Where the hell did you get the materials for a stick and poke?” You asked in disbelief.

“Gave Tommy 50 bucks to go and get everything from the grocery store down the street.” Ellie shrugged nonchalantly.

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I could give you one, you know. Free of charge, of course, since it’s your first one.” Ellie added on which really spiked your attention.

The offer was tempting if you were being completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t as if Ellie was a terrible artist; she actually had a bit of talent in that department. She was pretty much the only person here you would trust to do such a thing. On the more selfish side, you could be alone with Ellie.

“Miss Ellie! I need help!” A young boy shouted from across the room.

“Alright, buddy. I’ll be right there,” she called back before turning to you to point a finger in your direction. “Think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly. “I will.”

Content with your response, Ellie jogged over to the boy who had gotten the glue on his face. You internally freak out as your eyes dart around the room. All of your campers were doodling away, chatting amongst each other while you were having a crisis.

You had zoned out so bad, that you didn’t even realize that Steve was now standing next to you.

“Oh, Steve, hi.” You greeted him with a small smile.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back, “I don’t want to seem nosy but is there something going on between you and Ellie?”

You snap your neck before shaking your head furiously, a weird chuckle leaving your lips.

“No! No, absolutely not.” You persisted.

“Okay,” Steve trailed off, “you… like her, though, right?”

You looked at Ellie who was leaning over all of the kids' drawings, commenting on how all of them were ‘sick’ or ‘cool’. It was undeniable.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brows at him.

“Damn. I owe Robs 20 bucks.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. You mouth ‘what?’ to yourself before Steve continued with: “She thought you just liked her and hadn’t told her yet and I thought you two were screwing in secret.”

“And you placed a 20-dollar bet on that?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve said ashamedly. “Robin went on and on about how ‘not everyone is hooking up just because I do’ and how ‘it’s different because it’s two girls’. I understand that but it doesn't mean, you know, two consenting adult women can’t be hooking up too.”

You blink at the flawless-haired man, listening to him ramble. Robin and he had very valid points.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyways because I’m never going to tell her,” you added, shrugging your shoulders as you scanned over the area to see if any of your campers needed help.

This time Steve whipped his head to stare at you.

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I could humiliate myself and lose her as a friend. I know our relationship wouldn’t be the same if I did,” you explained with a long sigh. “She’s not making it any easier either. She asked me if I wanted her to give me a stick and poke tonight.”

Steve whistled playfully before you bumped his shoulder. He scoffed at your annoyed expression before putting his hand up in defense.

“I’m just saying if I know flirting,” he leaned down to mutter to you, “and I think I do, she wants you just as badly as you want her. My personal opinion is to go for it.”

You shake your head at his words but don’t necessarily push the thought away. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Robin and Abby whispering amongst each other. Robin glanced over to where you and Steve were standing before nudging the taller woman.

“You know what’s going on over there?” You lean into Steve with furrowed brows.

“No clue but I think I gotta go. One of my kids just shoved a googly eye up his nose.” Steve patted a hand on your shoulder before speed-walking over to this table full of campers.

To your surprise, none of your children had spoken up once. You jinxed yourself almost immediately as a little girl with dark coily hair pulled into two ponytails raised her hand and waved it around to get your attention.

You make your way over to her, leaning over to lean over her small shoulder.

“Hi, Vanessa. What did you need help on, sweetheart?” You tilt your head and look at her name tag.

“Oh. No, I didn’t need any help. I have a question though,” Vanessa turned in her chair, looking up at you.

“What is it?”

“Are you and Mr. Steve boyfriend-girlfriend?” She pointed her little finger in the direction of Steve tilting the child’s head back to see if he could get the googly eye out.

You awkwardly laughed at her question, scratching underneath your jaw. Kids, from what you’ve learned working at this summer camp, are extremely nosy and have zero filter with their questions. You remember just last summer when a little boy asked you what were the dots on your face: you were breaking out the first week. He was talking about your acne.

“Uh, no. Mr.Steve and I are good friends.” You said slowly. “Boys and girls can be just friends, you know?”

“Oh, well, he’s super cute,” she giggled as she covered her mouth like it was a secret.

The girl had taste but you just didn’t swing that way. You didn’t know what else to say but thankfully, Abby shouted over the conversations to turn in your name tags to their designated counselors so that they could get started on the tie-dye shirts.

You retrieve the hard stock paper from all twelve of your campers before tucking them underneath your clipboard.

“When your group is called, carefully walk up to the front table to grab a white shirt. If you need help picking out a size, ask for help from any of the counselors.” Abby grinned before making her way over to you.

You turn to her with a small smile, nodding your head over to her group of children.

“You doing okay with your kids?” You question, tilting your head up at her.

“Yeah, they’re not too bad but I give it a few days before they start pulling pranks on us.” Abby sighs with a shrug.

You nod sadly, knowing how truly creative these children can get when it comes to pranking. You still can’t stand the smell of a bubble bath.

“Well, you promised to help me prank Ellie so you’re really one to talk,” you raised your brows at her with a soft chuckle.

Abby couldn’t even say anything to you as you were right.

“I meant that, too. I got a few ideas for her.”

A part of you tried to ignore the quite obvious disliking Abby held for Ellie. Her tone triggered you from the first day and their little tense bicker.

“I will, Abs.”

Abby simply smiled before patting your shoulder with her own clipboard. You rolled your eyes playfully as she walked away from you. You catch Robin’s eye and she avoids your gaze almost immediately.

Weird.

“You sure this is safe?” You question for probably the tenth time that night as Ellie dipped the needle into the little plastic cup of ink.

Ellie let out a soft chuckle at your antsiness, reaching over to place a hand on your fidgeting one. You, after a lot of second-guessing, made your way to the cabin next door, making sure to only knock on the counselors’ side to not wake up the children. Every single voice in your head was telling you that you were betraying your one goal you had for this summer but your heart was telling you to spend as much time alone with her as possible.

Your mental and emotional state often collided with one another.

Now here you were in your oversized gray tee and a pair of green pajama shorts that had white shamrocks on them, sitting on her springy mattress as she dipped the disinfected needle into the tattoo ink. Ellie had on her signature black wife pleaser and a pair of boxer-briefs, one singular black glove on her right hand. The dim yellow of the lamp on the small desk was the only source of light in the small room.

“It’ll be okay. Now, it will sting a little bit because, well, it’s ink going into your skin but let me know if you need a break.” Ellie gave you a heads up, scooting in closer to you on her swivel barstool. “You said you just wanted a sun with a swirl in the middle?”

You nod as you watch her place a hand on your knee to steady your shakiness. You were nervous but excited for doing something like this. Outside of the camp, you weren’t someone who left their house often unless it was to eat, for school or when one of your three friends invited you out which you declined most of the time.

“Can we talk about something so that I don’t move a lot and fuck it up?” You nervously chuckle.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath as she began to poke the needle into your skin, causing you to scrunch up your nose at the pain.

“How about you tell me about life back at home? Just tell me everything, you know.” Ellie looked up for a second to give you a reassuring smile.

You mutter a soft ‘okay’ as you close your eyes, gripping onto the thin sheets on the bed.

“I don’t really do much. It’s not that I don’t get opportunities to. I just never have the courage to do a lot in my life so that gives me a lot of free time to read romances even though they make me feel extremely lonely. It’s annoying but I guess I kind of did that to myself,” you sucked in a deep breath when the pressure grew stronger on your upper thigh.

“You’re doing good,” Ellie whispered as she dipped the needle back into the ink cup. Her thumb was gently rubbing underneath the skin where she was placing the tattoo.

Great. Now you’re getting aroused and you’re in pain. A dangerous combination.

“Um, oh, I tried dragon fruit and kiwi for the first time last week. It was in a really big fruit bowl with melon, strawberry, mango, green grapes and pineapple.” You blurt out as you remember how delicious the refreshing bowl was.

“Very summer-y,” Ellie hummed with a cheeky smile as she was finishing up the spiral in the middle.

“I thought so,” you hum, sucking in a deep breath as she wiped a disinfectant wipe over the finished swirl portion to clean up some of the dots of ink and blood resting on your skin.

Ellie sat upright to stretch out her hunched over position, looking at you with a gentle smile. You weakly smiled back as you looked at the swirl, tempted to ask her to just finish there but that would mean going back to your cabin which you really didn’t want to do.

“How’s it looking?” Ellie cleared her throat, twiddling the makeshift ink pen around her fingers.

“It’s so clean. How did you do that?” You ask in genuine shock.

Ellie sheepishly shrugged her shoulders as she scratched at the space behind her ear. You let yourself take a few breaths as you brace yourself for the last bit of the tattoo.

“Okay, I’m good now,” you grin as your hand finds itself gripping onto the sheets once again.

Ellie nodded at your ‘okay’ but her eyes locked on your tight-knuckled hand. She clears her throat before motioning to her knee that was pressing into the metal bed frame.

“You can… put your hand on my knee. Just so you don’t screw up my sheets,” she teases as her eyes flicker to her exposed knee.

You hesitantly release the nylon sheets before carefully placing your hand down on her protruding bone. You held back every urge to rub your thumb on her pale skin just as she had been doing to you this entire time. You did, however, feel the little pricks of hairs that Ellie missed on her knee. You weren’t going to judge her, of course. It was comforting knowing how human she was.

“Is there anyone special back home?” Ellie hummed as she dotted the sunbeams.

Your eyes bulged out of your head. How fucking ironic the girl you had been head over heels for is asking you this question.

“Uh, no, not back home,” you shake your head at her question.

You weren’t technically lying. There was nothing waiting for you at home other than your dads.

“So you don’t have feelings for… anyone at all?” Ellie sounded almost nervous asking you the question.

Suddenly your palm grew hot and sweaty at the on-the-nose question. You could lie and say ‘no’ but your lack of immediate response captured Ellie’s attention. Ellie’s eyes flickered up to you with a shit-eating grin on her pink lips.

“I-I don’t.” You accidentally stutter, making you want to wring your neck right then and there.

“You’re a shit liar,” Ellie scoffed as she wiped off the excess blood and ink. “Who is it?”

“No one. Seriously don’t start,” you let out a strained chuckle.

“Why did you get so tense all of a sudden then?” Ellie quipped.

Well part of it has to do with the fact that I would give anything to have your tongue down my throat, you thought to yourself.

“Nothing. It’s no one and nothing, Els.” You shake your head before motioning to your tattoo. “Aren’t you supposed to be tattooing not being nosy?”

Ellie shook her head with a raise of her eyebrows. “So it is someone?”

You mutter an ‘oh my god’ to yourself before she continues to speak. “If it was really no one, you wouldn’t have called me nosy. I’m just saying.”

God, her sarcastic tone both irritated and comforted you.

“I don’t know. Abby is pretty… cool and sweet.” You blubber out, your word vomit causing your head to ache.

Ellie’s features dropped for a moment at the name. You even felt a nerve in her knee twitch. Why did you say Abby of all people? She pursed her lips before going back to the task at hand.

“Abby?” Ellie hummed. “Really?”

No.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with Abby?” You question the freckled girl, eyes flickering to her furrowed brows.

Ellie sucked in a deep breath, shaking her head. You wanted to scoff at her reaction but you simply kept your hand on her knee, allowing her to finish what she started.

“What about…you?” You carefully ask.

“What about me?” Ellie raised her brows.

You sigh. “Do you have anyone special?”

Ellie’s soft green eyes followed up your body to your lips before shaking her head, dismissive of your question.

“No one you know of.”

This needle is digging into your skin and your blood is seeping to the surface but Ellie’s words hurt the most tonight.

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[iloveundertaesooomuch]

!!THIS IS NOT CALEB!!

This is my version of the FTF Grimwalker that got possessed by Belos and then was resurected on GrimIsles!

His name is Cheese! ...Bear with me here-

His grimwalker siblings let him to choose his own name, because they didn't want to force something so important onto him. Especially when this "newcomer" was lucky enough to not be named by Belos. So the freedom of choice felt pretty important to consider for his ability to built his own identity and carve his own destiny.

But.. Cheese was litteraly "born yesterday" and he didnt understand the language yet. At all. So, of course, when he started to learn some words, he chose to identify himself with something he really really likes. And.. this thing he related to happened to be a block of yellow dairy product with holes in it and a funny taste. He is too much of a cheese lover.

Later on he often "changed his name" from Cheese to Onion to Gerald to Boot to Nike... Uhhh..., it was difficult to say the least. But the name Cheese stuck with others, so now it is how he is called. Although many end up pronouncing it as "Chez", which is valid too.

As you can see on my art, Cheese doesn't have his legs rotting like the body in the s3 ep2. Thats because it was part of his "mortal wound". In otherwords, Chez wouldn't be able to live with parts damaged like that. Usually all that left after the person's "mortal wound" after the resurection in the temple is a small light scar. But, even if Cheese got his body fully in tact now, the bottom part of his body nonetheless seems to be paralised. Thats why he requires a wheelchair to move around the Isles. (I wont deny the possibility of him getting a jetpack or something like that so he could move thought the air on his "loyal carriage". Imagine that vine video but with Cheese. He would be very enthusiastic about creating and building shit like that.) Chez also happens to be mute due to his damaged throat and vocal chords also from Belos'es possession. Thats why he has that little oracle stone on his hair-clip that helps him speak his thoughts out loud! He wasn't always able to use it, so he was also taught how to use sign language. His siblings were glad to learn it along with Cheese so they could finally chat.

I was initially imagining Cheese to be enthusiastic about sports. Especially since the grimwalker body in FTF looked quite buff weirdly enough XD. But he slowly grows to be much more than "CHEESE IS SPEED". Perharps our discovery of him as a character reflects his own journey of getting to know himself. Chez came to be as a blank slate. I guess he is technocally the happiest grimwalker in this AU, since he never experience any kind of abuse and has a loving family that treats him with respect even if he doesn't understand everything yet.

It was my first time drawing a wheelchair I think. So I really heavily referenced just to get its structure right. Maybe when I draw Chez again I will decorate it to his liking. He would probably enjoy some stickers on it. Especially of space and ships. Or Cheese could have a Starwars (or however that franchise is called in TOH universe) merch on it! He likes spaces, because it is full of infinite possibilities.

Thank you, @crypticpara and @talisman975 for inspiration!

[mizzstromalarkey]

Mizzstro’s Memory

-Balan Wonderworld Oneshot-

-

“Run that by me one more time.”

Mizzstro’s words are tense. His short fur stands on end, a glistening platinum white under the stage lights of the otherwise dark theatre.

Balan exhales and gathers himself.

“As Wonderworld’s maestro, it is my role to conduct the memories of inhabitants so that they may rekindle balance within their hearts—“

“Right. Less poise, Balan. I don’t know who you’re trying to impress here.”

“—erm…but…without a proper stage, I’ve yet been able to draw your memories forth…”

Balan then gestures to the stage Mizzstro is lounging back on.

“…That is, until now. I have an idea. A work-around, if you will. Provided you would let me try.” Balan’s wide grin then softens. “I will not force you to do this, Mizzstro, but… you should consider my help.”

The jester beast hunches over his lap with a long sigh. He brushes his claws through the messy bangs of parted fur around his mask. He doesn’t look at Balan.

“You know how I feel about someone digging around in there.”

The maestro’s brow furrows.

“I’m only conducting your memories—guiding you through so I can help determine what ails your heart. I can see them, I suppose, but you will be the star of your own show.”

“Psh, you think I don’t know why I’m like this? I’m the conductor of psycho-analyzing myself, Bal.”

Colorful gem drops appear around him. Mizzstro simply pushes them aside with his tail. The annoying things always get in the way. Balan stiffens at the sight.

“I know you’re hurting, Mizzstro. I can—“

“You can what? Watch from the background as I relive all the shitty things that’ve happened to me?” Mizzstro’s claws dig into the floorboards. “If my issues were as simple as…as getting over a fear of dolphins, or just having goddamn art block then don’t you think I would have told you by now?”

Balan huffs like the beast struck a chord. “You would have never told me regardless because you fear being vulnerable with others.”

“Well, look who’s breaking out their Masters in Psychology. Should I pay that $75 cash or card?”

“Do you use this witty persona to deflect all the negativity surrounding you?”

Mizzstro chokes on his words. In one swift movement he tears into a frustrated shout, flicks his tail with a charge, then teleports across the stage. The green flash blinks through the theatre’s shifting main room. For a moment, rows and rows of empty seats stare back at Mizzstro. He searches the darkness for their lingering image.

With an uneasy sigh, Mizzstro strolls to the edge of the stage then slumps down against the wall.

“…don’t forget to add my recklessly charming personality to the analysis as well, doc.”

Mizzstro chuckles. Balan doesn’t react, much to the jester’s awkward disappointment.

He looks so small, Balan realizes, crouched against the wall with his knees now tucked tightly against him. He grips himself so hard his claws dig into the fur of his upper arms. His tail curls around his ankles, the sharp star tip still poised to strike.

Balan approaches anyway, though gingerly, floating over to little beast. Mizzstro flicks his tail at Balan’s presence but doesn’t stop him from planting down on the floor beside him.

“Putting on the jester hat, hell, the whole mask…and being everyone’s favorite little shithead…sometimes that’s easier. I can control that.”

Mizzstro hurries to wipe the moisture building in his eyes.

“You’re asking me to process things I’m still trying to understand. I’m not even human anymore, Balan.”

Mizzstro’s words hang between them.

“So, I’d rather put back on the costume cause that’s the only way I can get through this shit, even if it hurts just as bad.”

Balan tenses but finds himself nodding slowly.

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to share this, Mizzstro.”

He squirms at Balan’s words but can’t hide a small grin curling.

“Yeah, well… don’t get used to it. Just give me my heart piece therapy badge and I’ll be on my way.”

Balan searches the jester beast’s face. Mizzstro finally turns to look at him, even if just slightly.

“What?”

“Your heart is still imbalanced and missing, I fear. Do you trust me enough to let me help you?”

Balan reaches out for a moment to comfort him before pausing. Mizzstro flinches at the approach—Balan recoiling. Mizzstro shifts and stares back to the ground, his otherwise lively lilac and green eyes glazed over. His tail taps at the ground.

“It’s not…it’s not that I don’t. I just don’t have much of a choice.”

“Without your heart rebalanced, Mizzstro, you may never leave Wonderworld—“

The beast tenses, “—you think I don’t know that, Bal?”

“Please, allow me to help you…” The maestro’s voice strains with desperation, a rare falter of his grace. “I owe it to you to try.”

Mizzstro wipes his eyes again. He can’t cry in front of Balan, not like this.

“If you knew what you were looking for in my head, then you wouldn’t be asking to go digging. You won’t… you won’t see me the same after. I’m not the same.”

Balan floats to the ground.

“I…regret…that Wonderworld has taken your humanity from you.”

Mizzstro stares off, muttering, “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first…”

Balan sinks. Negativity radiates from the false maestro, even as just a glimpse behind the mask.

“The pain you’re in is too much for you to handle alone. If you truly want to leave, let me help you in the best way I know how. I won’t give up trying,” Balan slowly offers his hand out to Mizzstro, “and I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

Mizzstro’s ears droop. He looks up at Balan’s hand, then to the maestro himself.

“Even if you vandalize the theatre and terrorize Wonderworld,” Balan chuckles. He gives an awkward shrug.

A small smile creeps across the jester’s mask, but its warmth is real. Uncurling himself, he exhales a long, loud sigh, and grabs hold of Balan’s offered hand.

“You’re frustratingly good at this shit, you know that?” Mizzstro chuckles. “Alright. Show me whatever therapy parlor trick you wanna try now.”

[separatist-apologist]

Cowboy Like Me

Never thought I'd meet you here

Summary: When Nesta is stranded in rural Montana, she finds herself rescued by an unlikely pair.

Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek: Meet-Cute

Also, check out this art of Cowboy Cassian from @melphss

Read on AO3

Nesta was in hell. 

Who got married in Montana? Montana seemed like the sort of place you exiled people to die in lonely misery. She didn’t give a fuck about all the open sky, the clean air, or the nature that quite literally ambled up to her rental car looking for a snack. Nesta wasn’t built for this sort of life and maybe it said something about her that she couldn’t imagine anyone else who was.

She’d made a mistake, though. When she’d rented her airbnb, she’d just assumed it was an actual home, like the pictures had depicted, and not some ramshackle hovel with a literal hole in the ground for shitting.

For fifty dollars a night, she supposed she deserved that. Nesta thought that maybe she also deserved her twisted ankle. Heels on a gravel road had been an obvious mistake—was she supposed to go barefoot? She hadn’t brought anything else. Nesta emitted a soft scream of hatred for this new, cheerful place before propping herself up on the hood of her car to look at her swelling ankle.

All this for a wedding. The minute Nesta managed to get back into her car, she was going to book a flight home and block this friend forever. Why was she even trying to have friends outside of Gwyn and Emerie, besides? Nesta maneuvered her phone from her black skirt pocket only to find that of fucking course she didn’t have service.

She screamed again, irate with the whole endeavor.

“All right, ma’am?” a masculine voice called. Nesta whipped her head to the side of the long, gravel drive, intending to give that busybody man the middle finger for his trouble.

She hesitated. To start, the man in question was astride a large black horse. She had no quick comeback for a man who was pulling towards her shiny red sedan like he’d stepped straight out of eighteen forty six. 

He swung one of his long, powerful legs off the creature with ease, revealing himself to be at least six foot-five. Nesta had never considered herself a small woman, standing at five-nine without heels, but as he approached, his rough stubbled face hidden beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, Nesta felt positively dainty. 

He swept his hat off his head and Nesta wished he hadn’t. Holding it against the blue and green flannel of his shirt, he was like something out of a magazine ad for country living. Warm brown skin, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders was a lethal combination on this man. His chiseled jaw, the stubble grazing his cheeks, and his rough features made Nesta think he had no trouble picking up women.

And that irked her, even as she swallowed with desire. He was absurdly stunning, the absolute dream of anyone hoping to marry a cowboy from a long-forgotten age. Those eyes of his, framed with ridiculously long lashes, swept over her, and then her surroundings.

“Tricked, huh?” he asked in a rich, deep drawl. “You wouldn’t be the first. Won’t be the last.”

“Someone should burn this place to the ground,” she hissed, one hand still gripping her hurt ankle. 

He chuckled. “I don’t think that would stop someone from tryin’ to sell it. You hurt?” he added, his eyes falling on her ankle. 

“I twisted my foot,” she admitted. He knelt, the sight emptying out all of Nesta’s thoughts. She could only stare at his thighs, bulging in his tight jeans. His hand was large enough to wrap fully around her ankle, and ever so slowly, he pulled her foot from her scuffed black heel.

“This is your problem,” he said, holding up her shoe with a frown. 

“Well I know that now,” Nesta hissed, “you must be a psychic.”

His eyes flashed. “Can you drive?”

“No,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn’t go around insultin’ the only person who can help…but that’s just me,” he replied. 

Nesta hesitated. “Are you a doctor?”

He snorted, rising to his feet again. His large, muscular body blocked the bright sun the way a tree might, and Nesta couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful.

“Cattle rancher,” he replied, “but I know a thing or two about tapin’ up a sprain. We’ll get you iced up and bandaged and on your way Miss…”

She sighed. “Nesta Archeron,” she half grumbled.

“Miss Archeron—”

“Nesta. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He smiled, setting her heart racing. “Miss Nesta, then. I’m Cassian, and I’m walkin’ towards you real slow because I don’t want to spook you.”

“Why would you—put me down right now!”

He shook his head. “And let you finish breakin’ what you started? No offense, darlin’, but carrying you is a lot safer than letting you hop on the horse—”

“Why can’t we drive?”

He looked down at her, his amusement plain. “And what would I do with Bryaxis?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nesta breathed, gripping Cassian’s neck until her nails dug into his skin. “I’ve never been on a horse.”

“He doesn’t bite,” Cassian replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She couldn’t help her squeal as he hoisted her up into the fine leather saddle. Nesta’s bare thighs touched the material, spreading her legs obscenely, though Cassian didn’t seen to notice or care. He merely swung himself up behind her. He put one hand on her hip, the warmth seeping through her silken skirt, before reaching for the reins.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

He nodded towards a saddle bag. “Needed a few things in town.

“And you took a horse?” she replied, trying to imagine where he’d even park it.

Cassian’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Where are you from, Miss Nesta?”

“Chicago,” she replied, well aware she was proving every city slicker stereotype true. “Have you ever been?”

She felt him shrug. “Nope. I’ve been to cities before, but not so far south.

So far south. Nesta didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re not missing much, honestly.”

“No? Is Chicago not home sweet home?”

It was Nesta’s turn to shrug. “It’s where I live.”

If he had thoughts about that, Cassian kept them to himself. That was just as well—Nesta didn’t want to fight some stranger when she was currently on his horse, unable to even run. He’d left her shoes on top of her car and her suitcase in the trunk. Nesta was literally at his mercy, given the small, two-lane road they were currently traveling down had no hint of civilization besides the two of them. 

She’d done such a shitty job picking an airbnb. 

“What are you doin’ up here, then?” he asked after a moment. His voice had the most pleasant gravel, deep and dark like a star-flecked sky. Nesta knew she was leaning against the broad plain of his chest and found she didn’t care. 

“My friend is getting married,” she said. “I guess her fiance grew up out here.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, an obvious smile in his voice. “Married on a ranch?”

Nesta twisted in her saddle. “Don’t you dare—”

“Lots of people rent out my barn on the edge of the property. You can stay up with me, if you need a place. I’ll charge you a real fair price.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that?”

“You ever mucked out a stall, Miss Nesta?”

She poked him in the ribs, turning back to face the endless expanse of cloudless blue. “Is that your thing, then? Humbling the city girl by making her clean up shit?”

“Maybe I think you’d be real pretty with a little mud on your face.”

Nesta swallowed. “I don’t do mud,” she said, looking at her immaculate nails.

“What do you do, then?” Why did he sound so suggestive? Nesta’s hands were clammy–nervous. When had a man ever had that effect on her? 

“Law,” she told him. “Corporate law.”

He made some soft, noncommittal noise that was, honestly, a lot better than a lot of the finance men she dated. Cassian acknowledged he’d heard her without feeling the need to cut her down in service of his own ego. 

“I don’t know much about that,” he finally admitted. Nesta could have kissed him for it, though she wouldn’t. 

“It’s pretty boring,” she said, earning another of his soft noises.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he replied. “You don’t strike me as the type to spend your time sufferin’.”

“Well…I do get to humble really rich men with a fair amount of regularity,” she admitted with a smile. His grip on her waist tightened. 

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his breath fanning against the back of her neck. She shivered, unintentionally leaning further into him. She was acting like a cat in heat over a man she’d known for fifteen minutes.

“I’ll pay,” she breathed. Behind her, Cassian went stiff.

“Pay?”

“For a room,” she clarified, wondering what he was thinking. “If you were serious about your offer, I’d pay you for it.”

“Oh, darlin’, there’s no need for that. Just a little hel—”

“I told you I don’t do dirt,” she snapped. “You can have money or nothing at all.”

“I’m not takin’ your money,” Cassian drawled. “Just keep after yourself and don’t disturb the cats.”

Her heart stuttered. “Cats?”

“Yeah. My girl just had kittens and she’s real skittish, so if you see her, be real quiet and soft.”

Nesta could have died. “What's her name?”

She wanted a cat so badly. Her landlord expressly forbade any animals at all, and Nesta was too much of a rule follower to risk a secret cat. The thought of spending three days surrounded by a mama cat and her little kittens seemed like heaven.

“Cheddar,” Cassian admitted ruefully. “She’s orange. Dad must be black, though, because half her little beans are black, too.”

A soft squeak slipped from Nesta’s throat. “Do they have names?”

“Not yet. Maybe you’ll help me out with that,” he added with what sounded suspiciously like hope. 

She didn’t dare unpack that. Not as Cassian pulled off the road, steering his steady horse down another gravel path. Untouched grass stretched for miles in every direction until the sky met mountains in the distance. 

“Your friends will be down there,” Cassian told her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Accident, she swore, watching the point of his finger. “But we’ll be up here. I’ll walk you down for the wedding…keep you from wreckin’ that other pretty ankle of yours.”

“Does that work on the women around here? Your folksy charm, your aw shucks—”

Cassian laughed. “Are you askin’ if being nice gets me laid?”

“Does it?”

“My good looks get me laid, darlin’.  My folksy charm, as you so eloquently put it, is just called manners outside of the city. No need to pretend.”

“You’d be surprised,” she told him dryly. Cassian merely held her close, his eyes fixated on the two story ranch just in the distance. Nesta could have wept with relief. The saddle was rubbing against her inner thigh, chafing her delicate skin and the woodsy scent of smoke and pine coming off Cassian was threatening to throw all Nesta’s good sense out the window. 

His home sprawled against the Montana countryside. Built to look as if it was made of wood—and maybe it was, for all she knew—the house had to be worth a cool million in Nesta’s estimation. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at him, though. Didn’t dare acknowledge she knew this man wasn’t the simple, rural cattle rancher he was trying to embody. 

And Nesta certainly didn’t let him see that she was weirdly relieved. She liked an ambitious man. And unlike all the men she’d been dating back home, Cassian wasn’t slick. Nesta would have put all the money she had on Cassian being the sort who had his heart on his sleeve for all to see. She had no business thinking about that.

This wasn’t a date.

Cassian swung off his horse and gently pulled her back into his arms.

“Don’t you go runnin’ off,” he warned Bryaxis.

“Will he?”

Cassian merely shrugged as he took her up a stone laid path towards his glass and wood front door.

“If he goes anywhere, it’ll be next door to his girlfriend.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “Your horse has a girlfriend?”

“He’s a good-looking horse. Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend. I catch him all the time down by the fence nuzzlin’ her with his nose.”

“Like you, then?”

Cassian chuckled. “I am very single, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she interrupted, breathless as he brought her inside. “The Miss makes me feel like someone’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Fine, Nesta. I, unlike my horse, am very single.”

“Any particular reason?” she asked, wishing she sounded snide and not interested.

Cassian set her on a long, dark leather sofa, He swept his hat off his head as he knelt in front of her again. 

“You want to know why I’m single? Maybe I work too much,” he said softly, sliding her his hand up  and then back down her knee. “Maybe I’m a shitty kisser.”

“I’ll bet it’s the second,” she replied. Cassian’s hazel eyes met her own, a smirk curving over his sensual mouth.

“And you? Are you a shitty kisser?”

“Terribly deficient.”

“I figured,” he murmured, turning his gaze back to her swollen ankle. Cassian grabbed a red pillow from the corner of his couch to prop up her foot. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll get us all set up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Cassian vanished long enough for Nesta to fire off several quiet texts and otherwise study his really nice home. The living room had a wall made of pointed windows, and though everything had that wood cabin aesthetic, it was cozy and cheerful and bright. She flipped through her work emails while she waited, dragging a knitted blanket off the back of the sofa over her lap. 

Was she insane for hanging out in a stranger's house? She would never have dared back home—her friends thought she was insane. And yet she was at the right place, and if Cassian wanted to hurt her, surely bandaging up her foot wasn’t necessary. She doubted his neighbors would have heard her scream if she stood outside and emptied her lungs of air.

Cassian returned nearly an hour later, balancing a glass of water and a plate in one massive hand, and her suitcase in the other.

“You got my things?” she asked him, surprised he’d bother. She’d assumed she’d have to hobble back out there for it.

“Of course, darlin’,” he replied, setting a nice sandwich and two ibuprofen down on the wood coffee table right in front of her. “Unless you plan on wearin’ that skirt the entire time? I don’t mind, but…”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. That was really nice.”

He ducked his head. “Have somethin’ to eat before you take the medicine. You look like you haven’t had anything but coffee today. Pain killers won’t settle well on an empty stomach and while you’re cute, you’re not cute enough to clean up puke.”

Nesta was rendered speechless. That was for the best. Everytime he casually said something nice about her, Nesta was far too tempted to crawl into his lap and repay him for his generosity in a different sort of way. Instead, Nesta remained perfectly still while Cassian wrapped up her ankle with a beige colored bandage and pressed a bag of frozen green beans against the aching bone. 

“Keep this elevated,” he insisted, taking a spot close enough that Nesta could have scooted forward and put her head in his lap. She was far too tempted. 

“Want to watch something?” she suggested. “Or are you busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” he teased, reaching for the remote. “How do you feel about history?”

Their eyes met, and in unison, they said, “Ancient Aliens.”

Cassian smiled with satisfaction. “Fuck yeah.”

They wasted the afternoon that way. Nesta inched closer and closer until her head was propped up against his thigh. Cassian kept his arm casual against the back of the couch, unconcerned as they giggled their way through each new show. He didn’t stop until the sun dipped low, bathing the room in shadow.

“Want to help me make dinner?” he asked, his voice gruffer than before. She looked up at him.

“No eating out?”

His lips curved into a sly smile. “Are you asking to be eaten out?”

She smacked at his stomach, heart racing all the same. “You don’t seem like the cooking type. Isn’t that something for your little wife?”

“Are you offerin’?” he joked. “I accept. C’mon, lazy bones. At least come talk to me.”

“Does anything bother you?” Nesta asked, unconcerned when Cassian lifted her back into the air. She winced at the jolt of pain lancing through her ankle, though she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ease with which he carried her through his house. Cassian was careful, setting her atop a granite kitchen island so she could watch over his attempts at cooking.

“So tell me, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta.”

“Nes,” he grinned. “Miss hot shot attorney. What do you think about my humble home?”

She looked around, pretending to survey with an arched eyebrow. “It’s a little rustic—”

Cassian’s fingers were between her ribs before she could stop him, tickling until she thrashed and gasped for a breath of air. 

“Stop it, stop—”

“Rustic,” he chuckled, pulling out a nice creuset pot and setting it atop the range. “You’ll have to work on your insults.”

“I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me,” Nesta replied. Cassian smiled.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s not everyday a beautiful woman is waitin’ for me on the side of the road.”

“I wasn’t waiting. I was stuck.”

He shrugged. “Sure felt like you were waitin’ for me.”

“Maybe you were waiting on me.”

“Almost certainly,” Cassian agreed cheerfully. “Do you eat pasta?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Nesta agreed. Cassian nodded.

“You and me both, sweetheart.”

And God, but Nesta wanted to find out if that was true. Cassian had a box of recipes he’d inherited from his mother that he’d been more than happy to show her. While Nesta pulled the cards out one by one, Cassian made his own tomato sauce. She knew it shouldn’t have impressed her and still it did. 

He was nearly done when his cat, Cheddar, slunk into the room. Three black and orange kittens flopped just behind her, the third tumbling face first over the threshold from the hall to the tile. Nesta gasped.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Where are the other four, mama?” Cassian asked his cat as she wound her way through his legs to rub against him. “What are those little demons up to?”

Nesta carefully hopped off the counter so she could scoop up one of the babies.

“Probably peeing in my boot,” Cassian grumbled, stirring his sauce with a wooden spoon. 

“Babies,” Nesta breathed, delighted when the three that had ambled in with their mother immediately bounded towards her. Her favorite, for no reason at all, was the one with the split black and orange face. She had the brightest blue eyes and when Nesta lifted her up to really look at her, the small creature meowed loudly. 

“Well now you’ve done it,” Cassian teased as Cheddar trotted over to see what the fuss was. “Be careful–mama cat has claws.”

Nesta scratched behind her ears. “Maybe for you.”

“I suppose like calls to like,” he grumbled. While he plated their food, Nesta played with the kittens until there was a snag in her skirt. Cassian offered Nesta a hand and when he pulled her up to her feet, balancing on one foot, he yanked just hard enough that she fell into his chest.

Into his lips. 

“Oh,” she whispered, unsure what to do. Cassian kept her steady with one arm, the kiss polite and chaste and just enough to make her want much, much more.

“Sorry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair off her face. “Probably shouldn’t kiss the woman rentin’ one of my rooms, but…”

“It’s alright,” Nesta assured him, letting him lead her to the blocky table just outside the kitchen. It might have been awkward had Cassian not been so charming. So laid back and nice. He’d made her spaghetti and didn’t care when his cat spent the entirety of the meal winding her lithe, orange body through his feet and purring so loud Nesta felt like she was competing for his attention. 

Cassian kept the conversation going as if nothing had happened, but Nesta couldn’t get the feel of his mouth against hers out of her mind. He’d smelled crisp and clean and when her hands had pressed against his chest, he’d been all hard, toned muscle. 

“Why don’t I clean up down here, and you can get settled in your room?” Cassian suggested when Nesta had been silent a little too long. She was undressing him in her mind, and when she looked up at him, the little smile on his face made her wonder if he wasn’t aware. 

“Sure,” she agreed, if only to get out of helping with the dishes.

“I’ll carry you up,” he added, his eyes flashing. Nesta shook her head, her pride unable to stand being taken up and down the stairs.

“I can do it myself.

“Are you always this difficult?” he asked, rising to his feet. Cassian was a big man. Nesta had never felt small in comparison, had never once looked at a prospective lover and thought herself little. Cassian, though. Cassian exuded strength. In another life, he might have been a warrior prince worshiped by the masses. 

Nesta offered him a feline smile. “Maybe.” Back home, that refusal to yield would have earned her nothing good. With Cassian, though? A slow smile spread over his rugged face.

“Wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t, I suppose. Go on then, Miss Nesta. Yell if you need me…I’ll come runnin’.”

Nesta suppressed a shiver at his sensual tone. “Is that a promise?”

He looked her up and down, his expression suddenly ravenous. If Nesta had less pride, she might have hopped over to him, pressed her hands to his chest, and let him finish what he’d started. 

“It is,” he said simply, those hazel eyes finding her face again. 

It was shree will that made her turn. As if she had something to prove. And Nesta made it all of four little hops before Cassian was coming behind her and sweeping her up off her feet. Nesta gasped, unprepared to be so close to him again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, holding her like she was something delicate.

Something fragile.

And no one thought that about her. Nesta swallowed hard, biting back the urge to snap at him. He didn’t know what she was like and maybe that was a blessing, because Nesta didn’t have to put on a show for him. She could press her head against his chest and sigh, “Thank you,” without needing to scowl, to stare him down so he knew not to ever try such a thing again.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he drawled softly, taking that first wooden step. “But I’ve got the feelin’ that back home, you’re somethin’ of a ball buster.”

Nesta tightened, her hackles raised. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, ma’am,” he chuckled. “It’s just…I’m thinkin’ that most of those men up there don’t know how to act right when it comes to you. And because they can’t make hide or hair of you, they treat you bad. Try and break you, make you small? So you’ve gotta be real tough, don’t you baby?”

Nesta swallowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said crisply, careful to enunciate every single syllable which she knew only proved his point. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, taking her upstairs. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. I was a strange thing, to be so seen. To be laid bare by this man she didn’t even know. 

“Don’t get mad at me for sayin’ this, but you remind me of Bryaxis—”

“Your horse?”

“He was mistreated too,” Cassian explained. “Screamed at, whipped…you name it, he endured it. But all he needed was a soft hand. A little patience. I figure you probably aren’t too different.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

Cassian had opened a bedroom door that absolutely belonged to him. The dark masculine reds and blacks of the bed were a dead giveaway, along with the half-full glass of water on a wood bedside table and a stack of books dog-eared haphazardly. A leather jacket was hung from a chair near the open closet door, and though it was dark, Nesta could see an adjoining bathroom at the far end of the room.

“Where, I think, you want to be tonight. Tell me if I’m wrong—I’ll put you somewhere else.”

“This is your room, Cassian.”

She could see he was trying not to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tell him he’s stupid. Tell him he’s wrong. Demand he put you back in your own room and—

“Okay,” she whispered before she could talk herself out of it.

Relief all but crumpled over his features. He murmured something that sounded suspiciously like Thank the good lord, and set her atop his neatly made bedspread.

Nerves shocked through Nesta, rendering her silent for a moment. Cassian, for his part, seemed to have realized that he, too, had her in his bed and didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“I ah…why don’t I wash up the dishes and you can take a shower?”

“That sounds good, Cassian.”

It sounded better than good, and though Nesta swore she wasn’t going to say so, she called, “Unless you think I need help in the shower?”

Cassian froze. For all his bravado, it was obvious he’d never thought he’d get this far. Nesta crawled toward the end of his bed with exaggerated slowness, holding his stare. He took a slow breath, those eyes of his darkening to almost black.

“Is it safe for me alone in there?”

The knot in his throat bobbed. “I reckon it’s not, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she reminded him, rising up on her knees so she could touch the hard planes of his stomach. “Do you think you could call me that, Cassian?”

“I…” his voice trailed off when her fingers found his belt and tugged. 

“You know,” Nesta continued with far more bravado than she felt, “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for coming to my rescue today.”

“You..” he cleared his throat. “That’s not necessary. I—Nes—”

“That’s better,” she crooned, having undone the button of his jeans. A lump was forming—hard and thick and Nesta was desperate to see what the cowboy had hidden in those black pair of briefs. 

“Nes,” he tried again, his hands resting on her shoulder. He wasn’t stopping her, and given the way his fingers curled against her, she thought he was trying very, very hard to be a gentleman.

That wouldn’t do. 

“I’d be a poor guest if I didn’t thank you,” she said, slipping past the waistband of his underwear. Nesta gasped when she curled around him—or, tried to. As she pulled Cassian out, she realized she’d need to rethink her plan to thank him with her tongue. Cassian was enormous, both thick and long. Hardly a grower, given he was still stiffening in her curled hand.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to do something. Deciding he was erect enough, she pumped him. Her fingers just barely fit around his shaft, and even with two hands she couldn’t have fully covered him. Nesta certainly wasn’t going to be able to fit him all in her throat.

But god she wanted to try. 

He exhaled a breath when she stroked him again, earning a chuckle from Nesta. “Tell me how you like it,” she murmured, softening her grip. Nesta had to hope that the cowboy liked it rough, because she wanted him to fuck her within an inch of her life. 

“Nice and slow?” she tried, making a sweet pass over that large cock of his.

Cassian shook his head, his dark tresses, whispering against his broad shoulders. What was he like out of control? 

“What about this?” she tried, pumping him harder, squeezing tighter. He shook his head again, allowing her to make a third, rougher pass. Nesta twisted her wrist against his head, her nails grazing the sensitive vein trailing his now very erect cock jutting from between two powerful legs.

“That's what I thought,” Nesta murmured, looking up through dark lashes. “Just like me.”

“Nes—” 

Nesta silenced him by taking him into her mouth. She had to use her hand to make up the difference and she didn’t care. A soft, strangled noise escaped Cassian as his fingers plunged into her hair. 

Yes.

This was what she needed. Nesta took him until she gagged, and then she took a little more, teeth grazing his sensitive skin, hand punishingly tight. Cassian moaned, tugging at her hair. Nesta sucked again, trying so hard to communicate that she could take it. He was holding back, practically shaking from the effort. 

Nesta took more of him, widening her jaw in order to accommodate the sheer size of him. That was all it took. Cassian made a rough, snarling sound, pushing her off him.

“You’re a lady,” he panted, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. 

Finally.

“And in my house, ladies come first,” he continued, eyes flashing as he shrugged out of that shirt. Nesta swore softly at the sight of all that gleaming, corded muscle. Nesta had never seen someone so effortlessly toned, so big.

Powerful.

“I seem to recall something about eating out,” she said breathlessly, swallowing hard when Cassian prowled toward her.

“I haven’t forgotten, darlin’,” he promised, hovering over her with his unbuttoned jeans and a smile that made Nesta’s heart race. “But first, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

“Just one?” she asked as his lips ghosted over her own.

“Let’s start with one and go from there,” he said, sliding his hand around the back of her head. Nesta had only her ripped dress between them, which provided no protection against Cassian when he pressed the weight of his body against her. 

In another life, she might have kissed him nice and slow—teasing it out, exploring him thoroughly. Right then, though, Nesta thought she might explode if she didn’t have his mouth directly on her, his tongue stroking, thrusting, tasting. He was just as excited, grinding himself into her while she pulled at the strands of his hair.

He tasted like snow kissed wind, somehow. Like the crackling of a fire and a frosted window—like some memory she’d long forgotten. Nesta dug her nails down the back of his neck and against his shoulder blades until he bucked into her, wild and nearly unrestrained. Nesta could not remember the last time she’d wanted someone the way she wanted him.

“Off—get this—off,” Cassian panted between messy, hungry kisses. He was pawing at her dress, trying to figure out how to take it off. Nesta arched her back into his chest, earning matching moans from them both as she yanked down the zipper

Nesta would never know how she managed to get that dress off her body given Cassian never stopped his frantic kissing. Nor did she figure out how her bra joined her clothes on the floor. She only realized she was nearly naked when Cassian licked down the column of her neck before burying his face between her breasts.

“Fuck, Nes,” he breathed, both hands covering them entirely—no easy feat, given how large they were. Cassian massaged them, callused thumbs dragging over her aching nipples until Nesta was certain she was making a mess all over his bedding. 

His mouth latched around her and Nesta was lost, ripping at his hair as her body bowed off the bed.

“Responsive,” he teased, his tongue tracing around the sensitive bud. “I wonder…”

“Cass—” she gasped when his hand made its way between her legs. Nesta writhed when he began drawing circles on her clit, teasing touches that weren’t even close to what she needed, even as he switched between her breasts, sucking and licking. She could feel it all in her pussy, like every nerve in her body was intimately connected.

She could have come from that—for the first time in god knew how long. At least, without her own hand, without assistance from a toy. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time a man had pleased her so easily, so effortlessly.

Cassian pulled back, wild and impossibly sexy. Holding her gaze, he nipped his way down her body until he found the red pair of panties still clinging to her hips.

“Aw, for me?” he teased, kissing against the fabric. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

Nesta pushed herself against his face, but Cassian was still licking against the lace. 

“I’ll bet you could come just like this. Couldn’t you?”

If he was doing it? Probably. Nesta merely whined, arching when he hooked his fingers into her underwear and peeled them off her.

He whistled softly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Do you know that? I feel sick at the sight of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. Cassian’s tongue slid down the center of her, rendering speech impossible. Nesta reached for something to hold on to, and found his hair for purchase. Cassian groaned, the sound vibrating against her. Her thighs tightened around his face, earning another groan of pleasure. 

Cassian’s tongue was everything. She realized, after a lifetime of thinking she was just difficult to get off—too fussy, too particular, too exacting—that what she really needed was someone who knew what they were doing. Cassian had her spread apart, licking and sucking her clit with the sort of expert precision that told Nesta he liked what he was doing. 

She regretted not sucking him more. Nesta was going to come apart in record time and she knew she was going to beg him to do this again in a few hours. All weekend.

For fucking ever. 

Release was gathering on her spine, burning hotly through her blood until Nesta didn’t recognize the noises coming from her throat. Cassian, too, was rolling his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate his own arousal. Nesta nearly stopped him, if only to have that long, thick length in her body.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cassian pushed one of his fingers into her. Nesta tightened around him and Cassian swore at whatever he felt, though he didn’t stop. He fucked and sucked in time, working her like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. Nesta built up, up, up, until she was fucking his hand, rolling all over his face like a wild animal. 

Nesta broke apart with a scream she couldn’t control, bucking against him as she shattered into fractals of starlight. Cassian didn’t stop, riding her through wave after wave with clear, obvious excitement. It was only when pleasure became edged with pain that Nesta released the grip her thighs had around his face and Cassian came up for a deep breath of air.

“Fuck,” he said, his lips gleaming from her arousal. “Fuck, Nes—”

“Come here, come here,” she panted, scrabbling for his shoulders. Cassian obliged, kissing her frantically. His tongue was coated in the taste of her, pushed against her own. Nesta liked it, wanted more of him.

“Condom,” he breathed, finally shucking his jeans to trip over to his dresser. Nesta propped herself up on her elbows to watch, admiring his firm ass as he went. Cassian was quick about it, rolling the condom onto his cock with what she swore were shaking hands. His eyes shone, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn Cassian could not believe his good luck. 

“You sure?” he asked, hesitating at the end of the bed. Nesta nearly laughed, given she was spread out and still trembling from his mouth. Any other man would have jumped on her, would already be balls deep buried in her.

He was sweet, she decided.

She wanted to keep him, though she had no idea how. She’d figure it out later. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” he said with another heart stopping smile. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

“Sure you do,” she offered in what she hoped was a sultry voice. “You’d have gone into the bathroom and used your hand.”

“That was my plan to start,” he agreed, settling between the cradle of her thighs. “But this is much better. Have I said how pretty you are?”

“Once, at least.”

“Well.” He pushed himself an inch or so into her. Nesta gasped loudly. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.”

He’d punched all the air from her lungs. Nesta didn’t think she’d ever been stretched against anything half as large as Cassian. It was the sweetest pain that, with each shallow stroke inching him in deeper, became wholly pleasure. By the time Cassian had fully seated himself within her, a bead of sweat was trailing down his temple from the effort it took to go slow.

“Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, gripping the back of his neck for a kiss. “Cass?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m not fragile. You can fuck me, if you like.”

Cassian pulled himself out before snapping his hips so hard the headboard above them rattled. “Like that?” he grunted.

“Yes—yes, Cassian—”

He did it again, groaning loudly when she tightened involuntarily around him. This was Cassian unrestrained, his hair wild around his rugged, handsome face. His muscles bunched and shifted from the effort, held over her just enough that she could incline her had and watch his cock slide in and out of her body. 

He wasn’t finished, and Nesta already wanted to have him again. 

And again.

Cassian reached for her knees, bending them up by her shoulders to drive himself deeper. Nesta moaned, eyes rolling up into her head. The balls of her feet were pressed to his chest pushing him with each slide out, only for him to return with twice as much force. When she’d said she’d wanted it rough, well…this was exactly what she meant. 

“Nes, fuck—” he panted, eyes rolling up into his head as she came on his cock. Nesta arched hard, every muscle in her body going taut all at once. She clamped around him and Cassian came too, clearly unbidden and unprepared for the force of his own release. She wanted to drown herself in the noises he made, in the frantic thrusting of his body driving himself deeper on instinct. 

Cassian collapsed on top of her, dropping Nesta’s legs carelessly. She hissed when her bruised ankle hit the bed. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips against her jaw. “And I’m not, at the same time. Nesta, I…”

“I know,” she agreed, because she was certain they were thinking the same thing. Something else had happened between them, something they couldn’t so easily walk away from.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, perhaps guessing those words were never going to come easy to Nesta. “I can hear you worryin’. Baby, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Nesta brushed her fingertips against the rough stubble of his face. “Promise?”

Cassian grinned. “I promise.”

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles 2023

Day 2 - Step

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

FCG & Ashton - ModernHuman AU

Steps.

Why did it always have to be steps?

What was wrong with a nice, accessible ramp? They were easier for everyone, nobody had to fear tripping down or up them, parents with strollers could get inside, injured folk didn't have to struggle… and Fresh Cut Grass could have a little of his independence back, being able to wheel themself in with their wheelchair.

But of course life was hardly ever that kind.

A tired sigh slipped past their lips as he stared up at the flight of stairs, blocking them from the sweet little cafe they’d been oh so excited to try out. A customer, Jester, they thought, had been raving about the cupcakes here, and knowing the woman to be a real pastry connoisseur, Fresh Cut Grass had near instantly wanted to get a few themself.

But that dream seemed so cruelly out of reach now.

“Man, you’d think fucker’s would have caught on by now. Shit like this doesn't fly these days! Fancy new chairs and tables, but the owner can't be assed to make their business accessible. Bastard!”

Oh how they startled, jolting in such a way that almost had Fresh Cut Grass and their chair veering dangerously close to toppling. A solid, scarred hand steadied them, letting his frantically beating heart finally come to a rest.

“Fuck! Didn't mean to scare ya like that. My bad. You alright?”

“Y-Yeah! You just gave me a right startling, is all. I'm a-okay!”

“That's a relief. I’d feel like crap if I’d sent your heart packin’ or something…”

Did… Did the stranger look guilty? Well, that just wouldn't do at all! After all, a stranger was just a friend you hadn't met, and the last thing Fresh Cut Grass ever wished to see was a friend all sad and down in the dumps!

“It's fine, really! I spook real easy, my friend Imogen says I’d jump at my own shadow if I ever forgot it was there! But you're not scary yourself. I like your purple hair, and the eyeliner! Oh, and your cane too! Did you decorate it yourself? It looks fun-spooky!”

The stranger stared down at them, slowly blinking as their one good eye focused down on Fresh Cut Grass, taking in everything from their chunky cerulean blue box braids and round, thick glasses, to their bright yellow sweater and mismatched fingerless gloves. In contrast to their own ragged leather vest, covered in hand stitched patches and badges, deep red plaid pants and spiked belts, topped off with boots so hefty they looked able to smash someone’s head in… Well, they couldn't look more different.

Yet Fresh Cut Grass still smiled up at them, all warm and welcoming and so completely genuine that it seemed to catch them off guard.

“Most people would just flip me off and tell me to get fucked,” they muttered, leaning heavily upon their cane before shrugging and sticking a hand in their pocket, seemingly relaxing. “I didn't decorate this shit myself. A friend did. She’s one hell of a spooky ass bitch. Real arts and crafty. But anyway. I’m Ashton. Ashton Greymoore. You?"

“Oh, right! Introductions! Smiley Day to ya, Ashton, I’m Fresh Cut Grass!”

There was a beat of silence, more than a tad awkward, as Fresh Cut Grass awaited their response. Likely a laugh or a roll of the eyes or maybe even a sneer! Most people were funny about names when they weren't the most normal.

Not Ashton though.

No. He grinned, wide and bright and just shimmering with absolute delight.

“That's one hell of a name. You picked it yourself?”

“I did! It's my favorite smell. Ya don't think it's… weird?”

“Oh no, it's weird. But, I mean, fuck, have you looked at me? I like weird,” Ashton grinned wider, throwing one last glance at the inaccessible cafe as something shifted once more in his demeanor. “I know a place a few blocks from here. Unlike these fuckers, they actually give a fuck about people like us. Wanna join me there, Grass?”

“... Do they do cupcakes?” Fresh Cut Grass asked, their mind already made up before Ashton even had a chance to answer.

“Freshly baked in house. So… You coming?”

“I’d love t’ join ya! Thank ya kindly, Ashton!”

Their laughter in turn was rough and harsh, yet the warmth it held settled deep within Fresh Cut Grass’ tired bones… and within moments, he couldn't even quite remember why they’d been upset at all.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Okay here's my impromptu datv review that nobody asked for but I feel a certain need to ramble. Spoilers duh

Shit I vibe with:

The hair. Not the selection but the overall way it was implemented. It's nice and flowy and actually moves when my character does which is pretty neat and definitely hits a spot I didn't know have

Exploration is kinda fun. As in, getting sidetracked by side paths and the likes

Contrary to popular opinion I actually like my Character having a voice and actually being part of the conversation, so that's cool

Considerably minor choices have an impact. And now I want to punch Solas for being a smug asshole after I was a dick. I mean cmon he kinda deserved that one

You can somewhat customize your room. That's fun

Also; aquarium room yay

Stuff thats just 'fine'

The character creator. The scars are cartoonish, the tattoo selection is something, for lack of better term, and the hair selection at least for elves is atrocious. But, there are a lot of sliders for the face and body itself and you can get lost in them for quite a while

The atmosphere is alright. Environment is pretty to look at usually

The tarot art and stuff is pretty

Shit I definitely don't like

The lightning, or lack thereof. Somehow my white haired dude has black hair everywhere but in the lighthouse where it's somewhat muddy gray. Outside of the character creator I don't think I've actually seen the color I chose. Seemingly not an issue for dark hairs tho

The action combat. Don't get me wrong, looked super fun, and may be, but at least as a warrior who needs to get up and close to enemies half of the time I just don't see shit cuz of the weird camera angles. The darkspawn and shit are especially horrible cuz the blight usually covers the mark that would tell me whether or not an incoming attack is blockable. Which is fun if your combat kinda relies on you blocking shit.

Complaining further about the 'action combat'; it's so oddly slow at times? At least the warrior combat doesn't feel particularly fast, especially dynamic attacks like dodging, rushing or jumping. Which yk, you'd think would be fast. Then again, I am used to incredibly fast-paced combat and games in general (yk the kind that doesnt even allow you to think), so that might be working at my disadvantage rn.

Further complaining about the combat +1; the tutorial is shit. I'm sorry but text dumps ain't a tutorial that's a wiki or smth. Tell me which button to press in a tutorial fight while I actually need it and see my actions immediately translated and don't tell me 2 seconds after spawning 'hey u can dodge like this' only to have absolutely no reason to dodge for the next 10 minutes and 3 cutscenes. That's just lazy game design

The combat controls. Listen I know this is super nitpicky but who the fuck uses space to dodge as standard control in 2024 and why do you hate your players like that?

The writing. It's so on the nose. It's legitimately written for people without any critical thinking ability or attention span or whatever. Also it's so fucking repetitive. Yes we've established the elven gods are evil like 10 times in the last 60 seconds. I think I understand now. Can we talk about literally anything else please?

It feels like all characters have this 'try not to smile now' smile all the time. The stakes are supposed to be high but everyone's just grinning about. It does definitely impact the vibe

Being a sarcastic bitch sometimes is as morally gray as this game gets

The story is paced slowly. Which could be a win, but in this case feels more like a drag or a timestretch to artificially increase the content.

I've been a bitch to harding, nearly killed her, told her to stay back multiple times, overall did only thinks she disapproves of and I still rizzed her up somehow. Why. How. Does it even matter if they approve or disapprove of my actions? So far it doesn't rly seem like it

Why do you allow me to pet cats nd stuff if I can't actually see it happening. -100 points just for this one in particular

Most of the NPCs are copy pasted models and I can't unsee it. BG3 spoiled my ass with their diversity.

Turn your brain off and it's fine. Nice to look at. 60€ worth nice to look at? I'm rly not sure. Oh but definitely don't try to think if you listen to or read the dialogue cuz it will physically hurt you.

Will I keep playing it? Idk, honestly I am kinda bored after the initial 'oh new shiny game' wore off even though the concept is exactly the shit I usually vibe with. But welp, we'll see, whatever happens happens, for now I'll just disappear back into the void where I came from and probably take a nap.

[detective-inspector-her]

Incorrect Quotes Based Of This Au Because I'm Finally Writing About It -_-

Darquesse: I am strong! I beat Skulduggery at arm wrestling! Valkyrie: Anyone can beat Skulduggery at arm wrestling! Skulduggery: Hey-

Skulduggery: Met a dumbass today. Awful. Darquesse: You looked in a mirror? Skulduggery: Someday you will have to answer for your actions and god may not be so merciful.

Skulduggery: Why don’t you go talk to them? Valkyrie, sarcastically: Oh. Yeah, sure. Skulduggery: What? So you go tell them they’re cute, what’s the worst that could happen? Valkyrie: They could hear me.

Valkyrie: Can we talk? One 10 to another? Darquesse: I’m an 11, but continue.

Darquesse: What is your favourite mythical story? Skulduggery: The Story Of My Will To Live. Darquesse: I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, you’re in charge! Darquesse: Valkyrie, can we start a fire?

Darquesse: All of your existences are confusing. Valkyrie and Skulduggery: How so? Darquesse: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

Darquesse: Well, you know what they say: Can’t bake a pie without losing a dozen men!

Valkyrie: Darquesse, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement- Darquesse: Aww, thanks- Valkyrie: But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.

Skulduggery: Nothing feels better than winning Monopoly. Not love, not sex, not free pizza, nothing! Valkyrie: I’m sorry, have you tried pizza? Skulduggery (Has Valkyrie's Tastebuds): Yes, and it doesn’t compare to owning half the board and watching the light die from your friend’s eyes as you take their money and feel your friendship slowly deteriorate. Darquesse: I like you.

Darquesse: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake. Valkyrie: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear. Darquesse: … Darquesse: You mean ring bearER, right? Valkyrie: … Darquesse: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to Tanith and Ghastly's wedding.

Valkyrie: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

Skulduggery: Darquesse is a perfect cinnamon scone who’s never done anything wrong in her entire life! Valkyrie: Never done anything wrong?! She set a city block on FIRE!

Valkyrie: Go big or go home! Skulduggery: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home. Valkyrie: I'm going big!

Skulduggery: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Valkyrie: Incoherent mumbling Skulduggery: Huh? Darquesse: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

Darquesse: Have you done this before? Valkyrie: Well, Darquesse, it's like if you read the script you come better prepared. Skulduggery: That's not what they do in the US, they don't read things. Darquesse: I don't read, Valkyrie. Valkyrie: You're Irish!?

Skulduggery: I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally.

Valkyrie: You know what I asked Santa for Christmas this year? Skulduggery: If you say me, I swear I’ll— Valkyrie: You? What? No, I asked him for that cool Ninjago Lego set we saw in Target!

Valkyrie: English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art! Skulduggery: What is this "paper art" you speak of? Valkyrie: That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper! Skulduggery: … Valkyrie.

Valkyrie: Nice rock. Skulduggery: Thanks, Darquesse gave it to me. Darquesse: I threw it at you! Skulduggery: Isn't she the sweetest?

Darquesse: I dropped Valkyrie. Skulduggery: Darquesse, what the fuck.

Skulduggery: If you want my advice- Valkyrie: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your significant other. Multiple times. Skulduggery: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, they’ve also tried to kill me. Darquesse: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

Darquesse: Why won’t you all just lie down and die with dignity?! Skulduggery: We don’t do anything with dignity!

Darquesse, texting: O Valkyrie: What? Darquesse: Don’t read into that. Valkyrie: But I will read into that. Darquesse: HOW?! IT’S A LETTER! Valkyrie: Why is there a space after it, hmmmmm? Darquesse: Dude, really? Darquesse: It’s a fucking letter. Valkyrie: It could stand for something! Darquesse: IT DOESN’T, I PROMISE! Valkyrie: Like Oppression! Or worse… Darquesse: Dude, I just typed the letter O, that means nothing. :/ Valkyrie: Optometrist. Darquesse: Oh my God…

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason. Valkyrie, wearing a suit jacket that's 2 times bigger than her size: Spooky.

Skulduggery: Would it be discrimination to only hire employees at my doughnut shop who have the same name? Darquesse: Legally, I don't believe that breaches any discrimination laws. Morally though… I don't know. Skulduggery: I believe god is on my side when it comes to Duncans' Doughnuts.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, Darquesse, I’ve left a letter telling your guardians not to worry— Valkyrie: They won’t. Skulduggery: That you’re safe— Valkyrie: That’ll just depress them. Skulduggery: —and you’ll see them in a few weeks. Darquesse: Do we have to?

Skulduggery: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Skulduggery: Core-ean Valkyrie: The center of the earth is arond 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there so they don’t need a language! Darquesse: Core-ean.

Valkyrie: The ritual. To perform it requires a sacrifice. Skulduggery: Sacrifice? I nominate Darquesse. Darquesse: Wait, what? Skulduggery: Because you're little, you'll fit on a barbecue. Darquesse: I'm 5'9, it's like average height in most of the world! Valkyrie: It's not that kind of sacrifice guys!

Skulduggery: Please, Darquesse, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Skulduggery: I’m sorry Darquesse. Skulduggery: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Darquesse: It has to be done. Skulduggery: Darquesse: Skulduggery: Darquesse: Places +4 Uno.

Skulduggery: I’m not being weird. Am I being weird? Darquesse: Yes, and that’s coming from me.

Valkyrie, to Darquesse: Are you peanuts? Because I want to boil you alive.

Valkyrie: You don't know anything about me! Skulduggery: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

Darquesse: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material. Valkyrie: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.

Darquesse: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Valkyrie: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Darquesse: They're not. Valkyrie: Haha, very funny. Darquesse: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Valkyrie: No… what happened? Darquesse: …Why would you fall for this again-

Darquesse: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- Skulduggery: Awwww, you’re so adorable! Give me a hug~ Darquesse: Wh-What? nO, yOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- Valkyrie, recording: This is so cute.

Kidnapper: We have your child Ghastly: I don’t have a child? Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich? Ghastly: Oh god, you have Valkyrie

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, why does your bucket list have ‘Die’ on it? Valkyrie: So I can die feeling at least a little bit accomplished.

Skulduggery: Valkyrie, I am nothing if not a man of principle. Skulduggery: Now let’s break into this apartment.

Valkyrie dies in a game with ships Skulduggery: This ship is no longer a ship of love, it's a ship of vengeance, a gavel of justice against all that is wrong in the world, showing no mercy, as no mercy was shown to us. Skulduggery: The spark of love will now fuel the fires of destructive glory as I wage my war across the world with righteous fury. Darquesse: Legend has it that Valkyrie still haunts the ship, stealing my fucking drinks. Valkyrie: Of course I do.

Valkyrie, throwing her head into Tanith's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Tanith, lovingly stroking her hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

Darquesse: You look mentally ill. Valkyrie: I am. Let’s go.

The Squad is eating dinner mentally, in Valkyrie's head. Darquesse: Can you pass the salt? Skulduggery: throws Valkyrie across the table

Skulduggery: So what’s the plan? Darquesse: I don’t know. You’re smart, points at Valkyrie she's mean, come up with something.

Skulduggery: Go ahead, Valkyrie. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry. Darquesse: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Darquesse: I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them.

Darquesse: What do I get? Skulduggery: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death. Darquesse: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one. Skulduggery: It won't be you. Darquesse: I'll get my coat.

Darquesse: Skulduggery, can I speak to you for a minute? In private. Skulduggery: Ooh, someone's in trouble. It's me. I don't know why I did that.

Valkyrie: I hate Darquesse. Skulduggery: "Hate' is a strong word. Valkyrie: I have strong opinions.

Valkyrie: Do you even, cuddle, bro? Do you even lift, bro… each other up with kindness? Do you tell your loved ones that you care about them regardless of who is listening? DO YOU EVER RESOLVE CONFLICTS, EMOTIONAL ISSUES THROUGH COMPROMISE AND COMPASSION RATHER THAN ANGER AND DENIAL?!

Valkyrie: Can we go to a haunted house? Skulduggery: What’s wrong with the one we live in? Valkyrie: Wh-what? Skulduggery: Goodnight, Valkyrie.

Skulduggery: Children are the most insanely stupid people I have the displeasure of interacting with. Darquesse, referring to herself and Valkyrie: Even us? Skulduggery: Especially you guys. Valkyrie: Darquesse: Valkyrie: Petition to kick Skulduggery out so he stop insulting us. Darquesse: Seconded.

Skulduggery: My level of gay has reached “sighing deeply whenever anything extremely heterosexual happens near me”.

Skulduggery: If a demon possessed me, I’d just be like, “Okay, take it from here, good luck man.”

Skulduggery: Define “dream”. Darquesse: Dream - the first thing people abandon when they learn how the world works. Valkyrie: That’s too dark!

Skulduggery: Is anyone going to tell me what's going on in here?! Darquesse: It's kind of complicated, but Valkyrie- Skulduggery: Got it. Forget I asked.

Valkyrie: Gives a bouquet to Darquesse Darquesse: You know I'm allergic. Valkyrie: That's the point.

[justagamerandaweeb]

What-if Crossover - Akaza vs. Goku

This is just a random thought that was in my head, like what if Goku didn't have his Saiyan genetics, but kept the knowledge of his martial arts? And what if Akaza wasn't a demon, but kept his years (115) of knowledge of soryu shiki?

Don't virtually crucify me if your favorite character loses, this is for shits and giggles. (And lowkey a interesting fight if this ever were to happen.)

_______________________

Akaza violently coughs as he succumbs to his unconsciousness. He looked around to see that he was in some sort of white, empty room. It was like there was no start, or end to it at all. Something must've happened to him as he couldn't remember why he was unconscious. He just suddenly passed out, and he was just here.

The hell? Where am I? What is this place? He looks down, and coming to realize that he was wearing his gi when he was a human. What the? He then raises his hands up to see that they were no longer a bright green-tinged white complexion, but rather a light tan skin tone. He then notices the tattoos covering both of his forearms, the ones he got when he was marked as a criminal. Is this... some sort of dream? Am I dead? Akaza pondered as he was still confounded at this ac​tu​al​i​ty.

"Hey! You there!" Akaza heard the sound of a middle-aged man behind him. He turns around to see a man wearing an orange gi with a blue shirt underneath it. He had a blue belt, blue wrist wraps, and blue boots. He had a kanji on the left side of his top that reads Go. His hair was black and spiky, and his eyes were round and pure looking, while his pupils were a solid black. He raises his hand up, and waves at him as he shouts, "Hi, my name's Goku! What's your--"

Goku was interrupted when Akaza came at him at light speed when he tried to knee his head. Luckily, he blocked it with his left forearm, leaving Akaza a little bit stu​pe​fied that he blocked it so quickly, and so easily. Akaza then flipped back away from him, landing him on his feet, and getting into his fighting stance.

Goku bursts out a joyful laugh as he says to Akaza, "Wow, you're really fast! Had I not blocked that, you would've for sure taken my head off!" Akaza said nothing to him while maintaining his stance as he thought to himself, How did he block that so easily? I got to him within the fraction of a second, and he somehow defended himself. Who the hell is this guy?

"Hey, there's no reason to be so hostile, why don't you tell me your name? My name's Goku, what's yours?" He said as his hands were on his hips, and he nonchalantly stood there, swaying himself left and right, waiting for him to respond.

"Akaza." He spoke out as he was still defensive, not taking the chance of letting his guard down. "Where the hell am I? How did I even get here? And how did you get here?" He said with a faint sense of ma​lev​o​lence in his voice. Goku scratches the back of his head as he looks up and says, "Honestly, I'm kind of just as lost as you are. I was just training, and suddenly I felt very tired. So I passed out, and well, here we are." And lets out an awkward giggle.

A vein popped into Akaza's forehead as he thought, Just hearing him talk tics me off. How is he so laid back about being in a place like this? There's nothing here. Can you even consider this a place? Goku then thought to himself as he was looking around the white void of space around him, Now that I think about it, this does look like the hyperbolic time chamber. But, I don't even feel the force of gravity. And he would be struggling to properly stand if that were the case... he hums out of pe​cu​liar​i​ty as he started to bounce.

Akaza was slowly losing patience with this guy ignoring him. Is he unaware that he is an Upper Rank Demon? Well, was an Upper Rank Demon. "Hey." Goku's attention went directly to when he called him out. "Hm?" "Why don't you just cut the crap, and fight me? I want to see what you're capable of as you blocked my knee attack so easily."

Goku's eyebrow rises up as he says, "Are you sure? Can't we just talk this out, and figure out how'd we even get--" Goku got interrupted again as Akaza tried to attack him, making a fast jab as Goku quickly dodged it and weaved back from his roundhouse kick. He then back flipped and said, "Okay then, if it's fight you want, then it's a fight you'll get!" He said determined, but having a smile on his face.

He took the same stance as when he fought Vegeta for the first time, and launched toward Akaza. He performs a spinning roundhouse kick, but Akaza leans back far enough to see the soles of them. What he did not expect however, is how quickly he transitioned the roundhouse kick, into a cartwheel kick, and a superman punch.

He he dodged the cartwheel kick, and blocked the superman punch, and so he quickly dodged Goku's flurries of punches weaving his head left, and right. Damn! This guy's quick! Once Goku threw another jab, he pushed it slightly to the left, to throw him off balance, and gave him a left hook on the jaw.

Goku stumbles back as he is awestruck that he was the first to take the hit. He wipes his lips and sees a line of blood on his skin. He then looks at Akaza to see an audacious smile on his face as he says, "Come on, is that the best you can do?" Goku then smiles, and spits out blood as he responds to him, "I was gonna say the same to you."

Him saying that, got into Akaza's skin. So much so, that he zipped at him, and was about to punch him in his chest, but Goku fell back on purpose, caught himself with his hands, and kicked him in his chest with both of his feet, launching him into the air. Goku rolls on his back, and onto his feet as he concentrates enough energy for him to jump high into the air.

Akaza was stunned at how powerful that kick was, and how fast he did it. It was almost as fast as when he tried to knee him, if not faster. But he quickly came to his senses when he saw him jumping up at him, was about to perform another superman punch. Move, move, MOVE! He shouted out in his head as he moved his body to the right, and did a spinning roundhouse kick on Goku's back, launching him.

He then landed on the floor and began to bolt to Goku who was still in the process of falling as when he was almost about to land on the floor, Akaza caught him with one arm, spun him in the air, and did a bicycle kick on his abdomen.

He watches Goku get rag-dolled as his body rolls across the floor like a piece of paper against the wind. Once he stopped, Goku was striving to get up after that combo he just got hit with. It felt like he couldn't breathe after he got kicked in the stomach as he spat out more blood, and wiped some off his chin as he noticed his gi was all tattered up.

Goku smiles as he lets out a giggle and says, "I haven't fought anyone this strong in forever... it's almost making me excited..." he then started to take off the top of his gi, and now all that he was wearing was his orange pants and blue shirt. "And I never thought I would use this technique again..." Akaza heard him say technique, and that instantly put him on edge. Technique? You mean he's been holding back?

Goku then closes his eyes and softly exhales through his mouth as his steam started to radiate off his body. He began to elicit sounds of strained grunting and growling as he balled his fists, crouches down and grits his teeth as hair started to flail.

Akaza couldn't help but stare at him. It's like his body was emas​cu​lating as he was struck with this aura he was feeling. "KAIO-KEN!" Goku shouted out as his body became engulfed in this red fiery aura, and his clothes and body were in a reddish tint. Goku then lets out a shout as he then locked his eyes on Akaza as he got on he crouched all the way down, put his hand on the floor, and dug his feet into it.

"Get ready!" He then bolted to Akaza with a sound of a train whistle passing by. Akaza tried to prepare himself early by getting into a defensive stance, but it was futile as he was met with Goku's elbow on his cheek. He then was met with a flurry of kicks and punches, before ending the combo with a brutal uppercut to the stomach.

This caused Akaza to cough and vomit out blood after the beatdown he just endured. The pain was so in​con​sol​able, all he could do is clench his stomach and curl into a ball as he grunts in pain. Goku then jumps high into the air and cups his hands behind his hip as he started to build up his move. "KA... ME..."

A blue sphere started to appear in his hands, it started to glow brighter and grow bigger. "HA... ME..." Akaza opens his eyes to see Goku floating in the air as something behind him was glowing, and he couldn't do anything but close his eyes, and accept his fate. "... HA!!! " and so Goku formed a Kamehameha and fired it towards him and it landed on him.

Or so he thought.

When the dust finally settled, all Goku could see was a crater in the floor, but no body of Akaza was found. Goku's breath trembles as he deactivates Kaio-Ken and lands back on the floor. He walks to the crater and crouches down at the crater that he caused as he thought, Man, Akaza, you really were a great fighter. I hope someday that we meet again, and have another sparring match. If, you are alive of course. And he chuckles.

Akaza jolts out of his nap, to see that he was back in the Infinity Castle. His demon clothes were back and his complexion was back to its regular state. Not to mention, the lines surrounding his body. What the fu-- he then felt someone touched his shoulder, and he quickly took his stance and came to find out that it was Douma. "Whoa, easy there, Akaza! I'm just seeing how you're doing! You kind of spaced out on us when we were having our talk." Douma said as he pats Akaza's back.

Akaza's head formed a vein when he touched him, and so he started to walk to the edge, and jumped. As he was falling through the infinity castle, he started to think back that he fought in his supposedly "dream". That Goku was an interesting fighter. I've never seen a technique like that before. It makes me want to fight him even more. His body turned red, almost as if he was on fire... I have to find him. I need to fight him again.

___________________________________________

Little short story, trying to see how good I can choreograph fights in written form. Hope you enjoyed this fight I wrote.

And if you think about it, Goku and Akaza would be great fighting partners as they both have a lust for fighting.

[craziestfangirl98]

My thoughts on The Trainee Ep 10.

(I watched it last week but then my mom was here so wasn't able to update the thoughts. Gonna do this now, please forgive me if there are overlaps to the new episode or any of the old once. It's not as fresh in my head.)

Jane picking up and dropping Ryan off, not overstepping to 'announce' necessarily his courtship. Realising it is just the two of theirs until they decide to address is something very personal to me. The whole moment was very precious and I loved it. The uncertainty on both their ends. It was so palpable and beautiful and soft.

Tae being heartbroken and barely being able to function, after such a long relationship, probably the only real and meaningful relationship is so profound because how is he to do anything when his heart is shattered and he is barely holding on. I like that. I also love that, after the previous (?) week and getting reassurance from P' Jo, that he matters in the workplace, Pah has become the glue and in a way the one who knows everyone and brings departments together, especially if it is to help is heartbroken Bestie. That being said, I unfortunately do not particularly like the rest of the art department pushing Tae to fight for her. I would have liked it if he came to that decision by himself.

Bamhee and P' Judy seem to be navigating the delicate balance of being intern-mentor and being interested in each other doesn't look much different from the beginning weeks (case in point the massage, it's a lot of casual leaning and touching and I don't know what to think of it.)

Pai continuing to get Ryan's crush wrong with so much of conviction is hilarious to me and makes me curious to see how it comes out in the open, so to speak.

BOYS! You want to flirt, I get it, but maybe don't leave the evidence right there? Are you insane?!!!!?!?!!? Do you have no regard for my mental peace? That being said you are so cute and I would happily turn a blind eye to those papers. Also, Ryan as someone who works in a printer shop I thought you of all people would be against it but sure.

NOOOOO PAI DON'T USE THOSE PAPERS! DON'T SEE BEHIND THEM! I DIDN'T MEAN TO JINX IT. Is this how you are going to find out about them?!

I like that Bamhee is slowly becoming more and more keen towards her work. It's nice to see her focus on work instead of a person, specifically someone she is romantically involved with.

Ohhh shit. Judy is making the decisions. That's not all good. She is paying attention but in the wrong way. Bamhee has to tell her, she had plans from earlier, if she wants to be heard.

I liked Bamhee and Pai's conversation. One, because it's good to see their friendship continue and blossom. It's very wholesome and heartwarming.

Second, because I like that they are addressing Bamhee's feelings towards Tae as well as Judy. She is uncertain of where she stands and for someone who is just starting out in their queer(bi/pan?) journey it is nice to see that acknowledgement. Also, not being mean but I like that she realises that sometimes that much attention from one single person can be overwhelming to deal with.

Nice call back to Ryan and Jane blocking the scene in the van in one of the earlier episodes. I love how they end up blocking, was it again Jane's choice to ask for Ryan?

Same question I have Jane, How has Ryan survived so far?

How am I just realising that Acts of Service is a big part of Jane's show of love and affection? Jane just casually roasting his peers (validly) to show Ryan that sometimes there is nothing special about the adults is at the same time so important and hilarious to me.

Pai falling shouldn't be so hilarious. Why am I laughing! The timing of it coinciding with Jane's monologue, the fact that the papers have incriminating evidence of a secret 'to-be-relationship', the fact that all the interns are just so clumsy and chaotic, the fact that she couldn't open the water bottle and just gave up on drinking water (honestly full relate Pai) everything is pure comedic genius. Even more than the P' Baimon as crush + Windows error tone.

Also... Jane, I love you. But who are you calling losers, when your secret is laying out in the open for anyone to see and with only you and Ryan to save yourself. 😭😭😭 Good to know at least you can laugh at it. Hopefully you've disposed off the evidence.

Ohhh it's the grand romantic gesture. I get that your heart is in the right places Tae. I hope it works out for you.

Ooooh you are never to touch personal pillows! I think Judy can be a great mentor to Bamhee, don't know about the romantic interest (which is I think what the narrative is going for as well. In my opinion at least.)

The entire team conspiring to get Bamhee to Tae would've freaked me out if it was me. (What is interesting is, even the mean colleagues from earlier episodes are happily a part of Pah's team, make of it what you will.)

Say what you will, it is quite pretty and both of them look super cute.

I am glad Tae told her about the anniversary, instead of choosing to suffer in silence. Especially considering how much effort went into it, how much he overworked himself. Because if she didn't get to know about it, there's a possibility of resentment later on which is not good.

(ohhhh it's from The Terminal! I love the movie. Catherine Zeta Jones was sooo beautiful in that. I love her.)

Go Bamhee! She knows now what she wants and what she needs. She knows how she needs it rectified. She doesn't need these big gestures (exclusively) she more so wants love on a more everyday basis and I think it's so good to see her acknowledge it and speak about it instead of keeping all the times she was hurt by his silence because it felt like a dismissal. I'm proud of them both. I needed this conversation with them if it was to go in this direction.

I also liked that Bamhee had a conversation with P'Judy as well instead of just ghosting or just becoming non-committal about it. Shows she has matured. Also will not come at the cost of her internship. I like Bamhee's realisations, they feel honest to the trajectory and narrative arc. For the first time I feel like I'm seeing an emotion in P' Judy's eyes which as mean as it sounds, finally shows it meant enough to her as well.

Awwww... Everyone is so happy for them and honestly, me too. They've understood where each of them went wrong, I would've liked Bamhee to honestly address the kiss as well but except for that I have no complains honestly.

I love him Jane is constantly aware of Ryan and the things surrounding him. Case in point the print shop = production house comment. I'm sure it made him feel seen. I also like that this show keeps reiterating that you don't need to have lofty dreams and careers to be a successful functioning human being, just as long as you are authentic and kind. As someone who is really struggling with the whole career bit, I would've liked if someone could tell me this irl.

I hope the whole story about Jane's directorial route comes out before the series ends. I want to know him more, especially considering his (slimy) ex could be the trashy intern.

Oh hey! Ryan the namesake search is back! I missed it. I like that Ryan is slowly becoming more sure about himself. I also like that Jane is fully smitten and can't seem to take his eyes off of him.

You're right Ryan. He is very cool.

I think we all know what or who he was thinking about when getting the photo taken.

I like the message tidbits everytime. I especially like to see the hesitation in the messaging.

See you back for the next episode thoughts. Would love to hear more from you all as well so feel free to pop in!

[funkii-fox]

Should I block the French Guy?

This mf has the audacity to pretend to agree that AI “art” is wrong, then STILL is using AI to generate images of his ocs. I posted the quote of Araki condemning AI “art” and this fucking guy has the audacity to like it, even tho I had him in mind while posting it.

I was like “yk, I havent seen this guy’s story in a while because it’s 100% hateful, maybe I should check to see if he still does.” The most recent one I could find was from September 8th in a highlight abt ocs, but that’s not to say he hasn’t used it since and just didn’t save it to highlight. Make of that what you will, but I choose to believe he’s still using AI. I remember once I even had a convo telling him to stop using AI, but bro just went “ok” and still used AI BRUH🗿

But guess what else I saw: he likes Jimmy 😭😭😭 this was 100% expected tho. He once changed his pfp to Curly and i was like “your ass is NOT Curly ur Jimmy bro.” He posted 3 whole stories abt the community judging ppl that like Jimmy. He compared it to how ppl like DIO and said its bc he has pretty privilege and not Jimmy and thats why ppl judge them. I won’t lie; yes, most ppl like DIO bc hes pretty and charming, but at least he has some types of redeeming qualities. Jimmy is just 100% asshole. Every scene you see of him is he’s being a jerk or a fuck up that says “i can fix this” but actually can’t. Mouthwashing is SO un-nuanced in the way you’re supposed to hate Jimmy, it’s amazing rlly. We’re not even shown much of his personal life or other aspects of his personality; unlike other antagonists like Kira or Diavolo.

Now, am I gonna throw rocks at your window for liking Jimmy? No. Do what you want. But, i will psychoanalyze you and conclude that you like him either for the abusive dynamic or you like him bc he’s like you. This guy 110% likes Jimmy bc he’s relatable.

Simply looking at it face value right now, the way this guy is so OBSESSED with other people is insane. 90% of my conversations w this guy has been bruja arianna, snerufu, antis, women who make self insert ocs, or his arch nemesis Fay that he just can’t stop stalking. It reminds me of how Jimmy was obsessed and jealous of Curly’s success. He is also negative all the time. Even when making a joke, the punchline is always someone else or a cheap horny joke that comes across as a 7th grader. It reminds me of how Jimmy HAD to take Curly saying “i want more in life” the wrong way. It even manifests in the way bro had Curly as his pfp; because he wants to be like Curly.

We met from me shitting on bruja arianna. My criticism came from logic and a want to make change in the community, but it’s clear now that his criticism comes from hate and insecurity. He’s so passionate about hate, i think it’s the only thing he’s passionate about. He’s not even passionate enough about his own ocs to draw them himself. He’s so hateful he makes fun of women in the fandom for damn near anything they do, as if millions of ppl don’t also see him as a woman and as if he never lived as a woman. Then he hides all of his edginess as “im French lol we’re just angry :p” be so serious

His only other characteristic is being hypocritical. This guy “doesn’t deserve hate” but is constantly negative all the time. This guys gets upset at shit on a screen just to search it up more. This guy HATES bruja arianna for mocking trans men, yet all his male ocs are “androgynous” no mf they look like girls.

Chat, I don’t care anymore about being stalked. I’m stronger now. I have better things to worry about now that I have a life. I don’t care if he talks a lot of shit nor do I care if he “exposes” me for some made up bs. He can have a tantrum all he wants; i have better things to care about

Poll whether I should block him under the cut.

[very-grownup]

Book 62, 2023

Let the record show that I do not throw this statement around willy or nilly: priest's "Guardian" reminds me of Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service. They're not the same kind of story, but the blocks of their foundation were mined in the same quarry, you know? I apparently love these narratives built on folklore and religion from cultures that are modernly, socially atheist. I don't know if I find them particularly fascinating because they're simply not the stories I grew up with or if it's that European Christian colonialism has resulted in what can feel like a melting pot gumbo of 'fairy taleish' things that in the 21st century are just another piece of pop culture.

No we will not be content with "I just think it's neat". These are the dark consequences of a liberal arts' education.

"Guardian" is really enjoyable even if the mystery elements are not so mysterious to the reader. Zhao Yunlan is a delightful trashman of a detective/cop/intermediate between Heaven and Hell, smoking and drinking and living in his own filth, in addition to being the first danmei protagonist who knows that bisexuality exists. I appreciate his honest horniness. There seems to be a fairly equal push and pull, saviour and savee dynamic between him and his love interest Shen Wei and even the small acknowledgement of 'oh shit maybe this dude is in the closet' and the attempt to dial things back when Shen Wei seems to declare his lack of interest. Zhao Yunlan isn't a disaster bisexual without social awareness.

I hope going forward we get to see more of Zhao Yunlan's squad. So far there are two standouts. The first is the talking fat immortal black cat, Da Qing, who is a talking fat immortal black cat and. Look. One of the most important characters is a black cat who talks and he is immortal and fat and bosses Zhao Yunlan around and makes him microwave tiny sausages and milk. The second is the first character you meet, Guo Changcheng, a normie nepotism hire who is naïve and absurdly goodhearted and afraid of everything, including and especially social interaction, but seems to be finding that his fear of talking to people and his fear of ghosts are slowly cancelling each other out and maybe it's not that hard to talk to ghosts.

Trashman and talking cat investigate ghost crime is a good time, guys.

[avocadea]

Just a smol journal to look back at🫖

Last month has been WILD. And by wild I mean like traumatizing events, adventures, and shit I have never thought I would get to do or witness in this life especially as a 22 yo teen. It’s crazy to think that in a year I’d actually become a doctor like WHAAAAA I FEEL LIKE I’M JUST A KID.

Internal medicine outside the med school has been a BLAST. It’s coming to an end tmr and is it weird I’m kind of sad? Oh heck I never liked internal medicine I always preferred surgery course over med but the past month was so fun??? My resident is one of the best doctors I’ve ever rounded with and the most appreciated part is they are so kind and they let me manage the conditions by myself, let me know what’s right and what’s wrong or what lies in between😂 The interns are so friendly and we even went on trips (Back in med scl years I was a dorm person like I need personal time to draw and write novels because, let’s face it, even when you happily chose your major,ANY kind of studying is ALWAYS tiresome.)

For a kid with bad anxiety and severe impostor syndrome, ironically, extern year is slowly helping me cope and get better and feel better about my shitty myself.

I have been drawing a lot too and taking a dive back into my childhood novels and I think I have improved a bit. I hated my art for while back in surgery because I was so stressed out and I had no room for obsessions and fandoms and books and I had the BIGGEST art block ever. Now, an escape to tumblr and pjo or rotg or fictional worlds is keeping me tethered to positive lights in life 🥺

Surgery is back in 2 days and I’m dreading the attendings but *sigh* one month and I’ll be done with themm. I’ll go back, take the test, celebrate with some salmon sashimi🦆

Special thanks to @aiuredsworld for fangirling, hyping, growing, and drawing with me. 🍣 later💕

PS. go check out her art. She drawS TONS OF SWEET DRARRY OF YOUR DREAMS!

[marissaofunderground]

https://at.tumblr.com/dearest-starboy/vvsiepoop-also-drew-art-making-fun-of-homeless/b13ncu6579vc

https://at.tumblr.com/what-the-hazbin/positivelydetectivecomics-pitbullsandpenguins/lvarvqrilx1w

https://at.tumblr.com/what-the-hazbin/vivziepop-and-her-hatred-of-jewish-culture/dv588rxgs5fp

Here's some that go into the racism antisemitism and also making fun of homeless people, as someone who was homeless for 4 years making it a punchline is disgusting, I can't find this one post that goes into the racist stereotype nitzy? I think? Is because she died in the 50's, yellow skinned, cleaning lady, whole thing

First off, she has a lot of haters accusing her of everything under the sun due to mistakes she made when she was younger. They blow this out of proportion saying she’s exactly like JKR when this is false.

THAT BEING SAID

I absolutely CANNOT defend the appropriation of voodou symbols. (However you spell it). Granted, Alastor is supposed to be Creole himself - but still….I’m hoping going forward for the full series this mistake will be corrected as this was just in the pilot.

Another thing we have to keep in mind is what we see in the pilot is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to canonical lore. The series proper should hopefully reveal all the canon lore that has been confirmed by Vivzie in the future - everything from Alastor being Creole and sinners being unable to leave the Pride Ring should come up in the show, among other things. Likewise with Helluva Boss, a lot of the canon still hasn’t been shown yet, but slowly over the course of the series, the things that have been officially confirmed (such as the social stigma of an Ars Goetia sleeping with an imp) took some time to show up.

A lot of the accusations come from people who haven’t even seen the show or have any desire to watch it, let alone know any of the canon the shows have yet to pick up.

As for the homeless person in the HB pilot - he was more or less a background element I think….not a joke….

As for the Sausage party stuff…I looked into that Twitter thread and some of those drawings don’t even look like her art style. I want even more proof for this one. Nothing is unbiased but I need a lot more evidence. Lilith though - yeah I can understand that. I have to say I’m no expert on either Jewish or Christian scriptures. From what I can guess - and correct me if I’m super ignorant here - is that there’s a lot of overlap. I do need to do some homework here, but while I can show concern over, say, goblins and Mr. Pinch in Pizza Tower, and decry anti-Semitism over the goblins in Harry Potter - ESPECIALLY Hogwarts Legacy, Lilith in Hazbin Hotel is a bit more complicated. I know way less in the case of Lilith, unfortunately.

In short this is a complicated mess, especially when people accuse her of everything under the sun - some of which are past mistakes she apologized for because we all do stupid stuff when we’re younger, things done out of ignorance - and then there’s things that are complete reaches and grasping at straws.

Also - with all the bullying and hate she gets, I think she’s sick of it and it really does a number on her mental health. So her blocking “critics” is probably because she just can’t deal with all of this. I get it. I hate that so many people will hate you over past mistakes because every mistake you make online is forever. And then those people will accuse you of being a flaming bigot and grasp at straws for your current projects when there is no real damning evidence.

I bet a lot of people are gonna be thinking that of me now that I’ve written this post. Or hell, even the shit I did here in 2015/2016 when I was a real depressed individual. But that’s the nature of the internet, sadly. It can’t be helped.

[lady-assnali]

Ok, as promised here’s the continuation of This Part where Gigi comes back from Paris and Crystal is confused about things. With Jan’s advice, Crystal has to talk feelings

“I missed you so much, I’m so glad you’re here.” Gigi swings open the door and throws herself at Crystal, nearly knocking her over in the process. She wraps her arms around her and squeezes tight, burying her face in Crystal’s shoulder. The brunette sinks into the feeling for just a moment before stepping back, clearing the fuzziness from her headspace.

           “Are you embarrassed by me?” Well, shit. That isn’t how she’d intended to have this conversation. Gigi falters in her own movements, stopping in her tracks and spinning around with wide eyes.

           “What?” Her mouth stays open a bit, her head tilting. “Crys, I-what?”

           “I didn’t mean to ask you so up-front. That was supposed to come out really, really differently. I just-I need to talk to you, I didn’t want to chicken out.”

           “Okay, I…can we sit down?”

           She gestures for the couch and Crystal slips off her shoes, leaving them by the door. Gigi paces around the room, closing cabinets and tossing her blanket over the back of the couch, rearranging the pillows. Finding her place on the couch, Crystal sits on the edge of her seat. The room is suddenly filled with an awkward sort of tension. Gigi looks as if she’s about to cry, deflated and confused and uncomfortable in her own skin. For a moment, Crystal considers dropping the whole conversation. Then, she sees Nicky’s sweatshirt draped over the back of the armchair by the window. This isn’t a later conversation; it has to be done now.

           “Do you really think I’m embarrassed by you?” Gigi starts, her voice an imitation of the way she shrinks into herself.

           “I mean…yeah, kind of. Actually, not just kind of. I’ve been thinking that for a while now.”

           “Crystal,”

           “Why don’t you ever stay during my lives?” Gigi stiffens in her seat, shifting her gaze to the floor. The action both infuriates Crystal and upsets her even further. “Why don’t you ever do any of yours here? You always say how much people love to see you work, but you’re always doing them when I’m not around. I just…I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. My brain is putting things together.”

           It takes Gigi a long time to respond. Her lower lip is jutted out slightly, her head down. She runs a hand through her hair. She shifts in her seat. She breathes slowly until she’s finally looking up at Crystal, eyes glossed over with emotion.

           “I’ve been doing it on purpose. You’re right.”

           “Okay.”

           “But it’s not because of that; Crystal, I could never be embarrassed by you. You’re my favorite person on this earth. I miss you every second of time I’m traveling. I’m obsessed with your art, and your drive, and your passion, and I just…people were ruining that. They will ruin that.”

           “Wha-what do you mean?”

           “The only time I posted you in my story after getting my first job was just…I didn’t realize what I was doing. We were both at the studio; you were painting and I was trying to get some designs done. You put on some 90s hits station or whatever and we were just jamming, hanging out, I thought it would be a cute little thing to put on there like we always do. But then people were commenting on the story asking who you were, going to your profile, snooping around…they were throwing out some pretty hurtful things.”

           “Oh.”

           “I deleted the post and made sure the people who commented were blocked. It just…it threw me. I didn’t realize everything that comes with this. You have a full career ahead of you, you’re insanely talented, and I’m just getting likes for putting clothes on and looking pretty. And these idiots can’t see that.”

           “Why didn’t you say anything?”

           “I didn’t want you to deep dive. I didn’t want any of that to get stuck in your head, or to mess you up. I’m realizing now that I made that decision for you.”

           “Yeah, you did. And it still messed me up-I don’t get comments, sure,  but you not having anything to do with me was just so confusing. Because you’re always saying things about Nicky, or Symone, or any of your other friends. Just not me.”

           “I know, I see that now. I never meant to hurt you, you’re just…you’re different than everyone else. Knowing that people could hurt you just because you’re my friend? Knowing that I would be the person that triggered all this negativity? It’s a shitty excuse, but seeing you hurt like that would kill me.”

           Crystal doesn’t respond. She digs her toes into the carpet, head swirling with conflicting feelings. She wants to forgive Gigi immensely, hug her and reassure her and coddle her until they’ve both forgotten this even happened. Another part of her, the stubbornness inherited by the long line of powerful women in her family, forces her to keep her eyes off of Gigi and her head clear.

           “People can hurt everyone else you’re tagging too.” She murmurs. Gigi bites her bottom lip, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “I just wish you said something sooner, or gave me the choice. I just…I’m lost in the shuffle, y’know? And you say you value me more than that,”

           “-I do,”

           “-Then just…I don’t know. I’m not asking you to make some big long best friends forever post because that feels icky. I don’t want to come across as the kind of friend who doesn’t like you having other friends. I’m happy that you have people in your corner when you’re gone. I just want to be able to let people know how proud I am of you without it crossing some kind of invisible boundary. We talk about everything, and this just came out of nowhere.”

           “You’re right. I’m sorry, Crys.” She shuffles closer to her on the couch, grabbing her arm. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re less than. You’re the most important person in my life, and I’m really really sorry.”

           She’s near tears now, and Crystal squeezes her hand before opening her arms. Gigi falls into them, engulfing her in a tight hug with her legs curled up behind her. They sit like this for a while, contemplating where to go from here when one half of their world knows who Crystal is and the other is completely unaware. She’d been in one photo before, when Gigi had seen her first billboard, but it had been from behind and was tucked away in her feed, buried by professional photos and PR packages. Bringing her to light feels like coming out all over again, and it strikes a nervous chord for both of them even though they’re only admitting friendship.

           After a while Gigi pulls her phone off of the coffee table, tapping her fingers against the screen nervously. She wipes at the bottom of her eyes, opening the front facing camera.

           “Would you be ready to meet the world now?” She asks. The question comes out a bit slow, hesitant, but Crystal nods enthusiastically.

“Wait, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this right now.”

“I do have to do this right now, but not because I have to. I have to do this because I need to make things right. I never want you to feel less than again.”

The model can see her best friend nod through the screen, pressing their faces together. Crystal’s smile is brilliant; effervescent. Gigi isn’t crafting an image of herself, rather she lets the expression on her own face come naturally. After she takes the photo, she briefly contemplates posting it. Her eyes are wide like saucers, and she’s sure the world can see the way she’s lit up, turned into one giant heart. Maybe this is the look Nicky teases her about after she hangs up with Crystal when they’re away. Maybe this is the dead giveaway. But if Crystal is ready for the world to see them, then she’ll do it.

           She’ll just have to ignore her followers exposing her for who she really is; a person painfully  in love with their best friend.

[ronin-deactivated19851026]

so i've been extremely overwhelmed by....... i guess everything online lmao, it's really hard to focus on things when you're constantly bombarded with things you don't really need at the moment

i'm trying to get back into journaling but damn it's so hard. i know my head isn't empty, i spawn walls of texts almost daily, but my mind goes blank when i'm in front of an open notebook because i don't know what's truly worthy of writing down? it's kind of like with drawing at this point. i'm stuck with the art block because i don't know what's worthy of drawing. and guess what made me feel this way? the social media lmfao. i hate that literally every idea i consider cool i never depict because my brain immediately goes like, "who cares about this?", "this won't get noticed and also you're too late, so don't be cringe", etc

i hate this so much idk. anyway, i think i'm going to make a list of things to focus on, both personal projects/artistic inspirations and fandom related ones. i do have things i overfixate on for years, so why am i letting myself be distracted by some random content ideas that only matter to me for like a day or two...?

i should also start limiting inspirations in general, looking at my folder rn and realizing that there are just WAY TOO MANY things i want to incorporate into my work and it really overwhelms me. reminds me of various artists saying that "less is more" and holy crap i should start limiting myself. this is something i slowly started to realize on my own when i did some pixel art, which is limited already due to its nature, with some color palettes instead of randomly staring at a color wheel for half an hour, not being able to decide which one to use.

also i found out about artfol, social media for artists, and so far it seems promising? haven't tried it yet, maybe i will upload some stuff there later. also maybe i'll finally sort everything here on tunglr dot com and make a separate art blog and will use this one as my "main"-diary-esque blog where i won't post much. it's not like i'm on here anyway, my dash feels overwhelming so i don't even scroll past 3-4 posts a day anymore on here. i'm tired of social media. it doesn't feel personal anymore, it's not fun, not interesting...

fomo effect used to fuck me up before something clicked and i stopped scrolling things. because due to nature of the modern internet, i have more chances of stumbling across useful/interesting information if i just keep scrolling through junk. since as you know, google is dead anyway, shit is hard to find these days, and indeed, every cool thing i managed to find was through random braindead scrolling (post 2016 i mean, i miss mid 2000s era when stuff was actually GOOGLEABLE and you didn't need to scroll long ass feed to stumble across cool things, you could get there at your own pace while just surfing the web). so the habit was made worse by "damn what if i miss some obscure post that features obscure cool thing that will matter to me once i get to know it??" but i'm just so fucking exhausted... everything i love about the internet because so dormant, niche even. the internet, as i define it, is dead to me. it's really heartbreaking