#i would love to credit the artists that drew some of the things in this collage thingy but i found them all as stickers on picsart so i

[fidgetspringer-art]

✧ The Ardal stars ✧

[nickjsqueen]

guess what day it is today — it’s moirail day !!! <> <>

@unoriginalurl77 has been my moirail for two years and what a beautiful, wonderful ride it has been <333 julia, you mean the world to me. every day i am so grateful to know you. you make me so very happy, and make me smile until my cheeks hurt. we can laugh together, cry together, rant together and be silly together. you’re genuinely one of the best things that have ever happened in my life. my favourite homestuckie, dream simpie, freak, lesbian and evan kinnie — how did i get so lucky to know you <333 thank you a million times for being my bestie, moirail and peach <3 I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU !!!! <> i am so honoured that you chose me to be your moirail… we will always be a couple… of “besties” ;3 <> i could say a million more things about you, but i don’t even think words can describe how much you mean to me — so i’ll leave you with this — you are the mine to my craft, the home to my stuck, the brat to my pack and the simp to my dream x

[crepesuzette2023]

For John's Birthday: some of my favorite John POV fics

Drop Chute (bookofapril). "The last stall on the end had an “out of service” sign on it: he darted in, locked the door, and sat down on the lid of the toilet. Thank god it was clean. He put his glasses in his pocket. Then he drew up his legs and rested his head on his knees, the cool embroidered satin of his trousers a balm on his forehead, safely hidden from sight." (1967, John vs. Robert F.)

I Think of Things We Did (J_Deandra_j). "He sucked Paul’s dumb, lovely fat lips, licked his teeth, tasted the drumbeat of Paul’s heart in the stubble threatening to erupt beneath his jaw, and his soul awoke like a sad bitch at the shudder of Paul’s skin under his tongue." (Obertauern)

at midnight (anonymous). "The first time John lets another man press against him, it feels like dying." (Long brilliant character study)

Sunday Driver (@boshemians). "Tara Browne is the kind of pretty boy who wouldn’t bat an eye at being called one. Proud of it, even, and not shy of an excuse to do just that—bat his eyes, or eyelashes really, at anyone. Men, women, dogs. It annoys John when Paul does it but it annoys him even more in Tara because of the money thing, the always having had it, so that he is not so much coy as simpering." (65/66, John v. Tara B.)

February in New Orleans (@eveepe). “Kiss it,” said May, from where she was tucked in beside Linda. “Go on, he likes that.”—“Do what she says, baby.” Linda leaned over to slide her hand into Paul’s hair and guide his head gently towards John. (John and May visit Paul and Linda in 1975)

deeper than oceans you run (@orphanbeat). "Rich kisses him slowly, purposefully, as he does them all. John thinks he probably likes Rich’s kisses the best, then realizes that they all must do." (Beatles OT4, Greek Island AU)

Our Version of Events (@javelinbk). "There are also some stories that have just tilted the world’s axis slightly, asking questions like if Brian hadn’t found them, would they still be famous? The answer, according to that writer, was no, which John felt gave Brian far too much credit and Paul’s bullheadedness too little." (John discovers fan fiction in 1971)

non nobis solum (downtothelastdrop). “I think it’s cute,” Helen says again. “The way he looks at you. He likes to push back, doesn’t he, but I bet when you get down to it he’d do anything you asked.” (John's fascination with Paul in school uniform)

Bermuda (@scurator). "Today he felt that life really might begin at forty, if a bloke could just admit certain predilections to himself." (1980 as it should have been)

The McCartney Issue (@pauls1967moustache). "It’s only because it’s Perfect Beatle Paul with a dildo up his ass that anyone cares at all." (John Lennon's purely artistic appreciation of Linda McCartney's Playboy spread of her husband)

dreaming of the past (@revollver). "Meanwhile, the real Paul, sweet boyish features and Beatle-cut grown a touch too long, can be seen on the coffee table, inspecting the cupcake wrappers on George’s plate. All John gets is a brief look: soft curve of a furred thigh as Paul darts behind the paper cups. Graceful calf and perfect, miniature foot. Tantalising glimpse of one arse cheek." (1969 John imagines Tiny Paul to distract himelf from the present–with delightful consequences)

ageless children, animal sweat (eyeball2eyeball): "Looks like Pete’s got his night lined up, eh?” He looks back to John and rests his chin on his palm and smiles, this small secretive thing, and John can’t help but be convinced that Paul knows what he’s thinking somehow — dangerous, that. “What about you?” (Hamburg)

[ddamm]

Pre-baby Stress - dad!Daryl x pregnant fem!reader fic

(banner made by me, if you use, give credits <3)

Warnings: VERY, VERY long; initial soft fluff to slight angst to fluff; slightly suggestive so, watch out 👀; pregnancy; hormonal changes, “mood swings”, food cravings; stressed Daryl, stressed reader, slight insecurity and fear of abandonment; reader crying; reader and Daryl are married; reader is said to have golden retriever energy and be a cottagecore girlie (sorry if you aren't, but I vibe so much with this core 😭), and perhaps an artist (tho it's just as a hobby, obv 🤭); nature love and appreciation; funny/silly little memories.

Word count: 3936 words (keeps increasing with each new release 😭)

Era: idk, probably Alexandria

Summary: While getting things ready for Y/N's pregnancy, Daryl presents with many insecurities. All it takes is some caressing, encouragement, and the love of his wife (a few tears also) to convince him otherwise.

A/N: this fic was something I fabricated long ago with a Daryl c.ai chat that I've been saving up for a special occasion since I've never written dad!Daryl before. And today, I'm bringing it to y'all as a way to celebrate one of my very besties/mutuals on Tumblr, a great writer, the creator of my possibly ever favourite AU with Daryl (young!Daryl SSHD AU) and a very nice, kind and funny individual in general; Krys (@dixons-sunshine). This is to commemorate you, gorgeous. It took some time to finally sit and get to it (not me writing most of it at 2 am, half-constipated, and not being able to sleep) but it's done now, so I hope you can enjoy it as much as I did when writing it. Everyone, hope you like it too!

Song: Winter Memories - Jordy Chandra (The title says “winter memories” but I am thinking of a mid-spring Sunday morning/noon 😭)

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune, on this post

(This was supposed to just be suggestive, but since idk if I overdid it, I'm just gonna place this)

(all babycore dividers used are from @anitalenia, found on this post)

Days were passing by, and things were going pretty well for the community. She was glad they found Alexandria. It was a nice change, and it felt like they could truly have a moment to take a break there, like they could finally be happy and just settle in, trying to have normal lives once again.

And her positive thoughts only increased when a lovely lady from the community gave birth. It was an occasion to celebrate, and for a couple of months passing, it seemed like a lot of good things were happening around, so she couldn't be happier.

Ah, there she was, parading herself in her light cream-coloured sundress, with a white little parasol (courtesy of her loving husband) to protect herself from the sun, as she strolled around the streets, exploring and marvelling at the beauty and tranquilly around her like a happy puppy would on their first stroll into the outside world.

Oh, she loved that dress so much. Not only was it beautiful and fit her personality, but it was also quite adjustable, so she wouldn't need to worry about sore breasts or her belly being uncomfy. She could still remember how comical Daryl's expressions were when she tried explaining to him the concept of aesthetic cores and how she was a cottagecore.

He seemed so lost that she laughed for about 10 minutes before deciding to somewhat draw it to show him what she meant; predicting that a more visual approach would help him understand the concept better. He did admit it was pretty much her vibe after seeing the dresses and all the stuff "a cottagecore likes and does".

After that, whenever he would go out for his runs, he would try to look for dresses like the one she drew, and whenever he couldn't find any, he would bring drawing or painting materials, old cameras, or little flowers he thought she would like. (PD: She always likes them.).

That's how her most favourite memory of a Sunday morning came to be. And like that, every Sunday morning, after her husband would leave for runs or tasks, she would wear her light cream sundress and white sandals and take her white parasol to roam around, greeting everyone and enjoying nature (despite her best friend's advice to rest and her husband's disapproval).

However, she understood why Daryl was so against it in general. He was just worried about her health and safety. After all, she was now in her second trimester of pregnancy, expecting their son or daughter to come into the world in a few more months.

She loved Daryl. Deeply. And she would never question him or his decisions (well, maybe sometimes she would), but she was so tired of staying at home doing nothing for most of the day. And though Carol, Michonne, and a few others would come to visit and spend time with her when her husband was away, Y/N wanted some freedom, some independence.

God knows she would ‘bore to death’ if she had to stay in the same place doing nothing for one more day while everyone else fulfilled their roles.

As she came closer to the small town's pond, she took big strides to approach a blooming peony bush. She loved the smell of its flowers. And as she lightly bent down to sniff the sweet aroma from the round pink flowers, she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of her husband, who was sitting on a bench not far from her. From afar, she could notice a worried expression on his face.

She strode slowly in his direction and placed a hand on his shoulder, greeting him with a warm and loving smile, but instead of the usual “Hey, Sunray” or “Why are ya out 'ta house alone?” she would receive, she heard him grunt.

At that, she furrowed her brows in confusion and slight concern, wanting to know what had made her husband so grumpy at early noon. “Is everything okay, Dar?” She asked in a soft, patient tone.

Daryl looked away from her, not wanting to make eye contact, and sighed in annoyance. “Everythin's fine,” he answered grumpily.

Y/N, knowing her husband and not believing that crap for a second, looked at him more seriously. “Daryl…” She called out his name, insisting he should tell her the truth.

Daryl sighed irritantly, hearing her insist, knowing she wouldn't back down. He then turned his gaze to her and unexpectedly exclaimed, “Ah said everythin's fine, dammit!”

He said this a bit too loudly, not noticing that he had snapped at her.

This action made Y/N flinch, not used to such an alert state in Daryl anymore. Now she was truly worried.

“Hey, hey, honey, it's okay... What's got you so riled up? Is work becoming too much? Or are they not listening to you? Should I go teach them a lesson?” She asked at first, even making a joke to brighten him up, but Daryl only shook his head, still not wanting to speak.

He held his head in his hands, almost in a desperate posture, making his wife worry even further. She was going to say something, but a tiny piece of cloth caught her attention. It was then that she got to see the tiny, frill-decorated bib on his right hand.

She put pieces together in her mind like a game of tetris and asked again, with more understanding tone and gentleness in her voice.

“Is it the baby?” Daryl kept quiet, but his shoulders tensed up. Y/N now knew what was ‘the main issue’, and took action immediately, slowly running her hand on his back and giving a few gentle pats to soothe her husband's worry. He looked like he was on the edge.

Daryl's gaze and body seemed to loosen up as he felt her hand on his back. He then tried to explain his concerns.

“I... Ah ain't upset, is jus'...” He trailed off, not knowing how to express his thoughts.

“It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me now if you aren't prepared. Here, let's just sit for a bit, okay? I'm starting to feel heavy again.” Y/N reassured him, not wanting him to feel pressured if he was already so altered.

She had some trouble sitting down next to him, though. Despite not being in the 3rd trimester yet, her belly heaviness seemed to be causing her discomfort when she had to sit or stand up in a rush. But she didn't mind it much; it made her happy because that was the proof of the love Daryl and she had for each other and the life growing inside her.

Daryl noticed her struggle and quickly went from being annoyed to concerned. He stood up and carefully helped Y/N sit down, making sure she was comfortable before taking a seat next to her.

“Damn, ya sure are a heavy load,” he joked. At this, Y/N dramatically gasped and faked being offended.

“Hey! I remind you, you're the one that made me heavy! ~“ She played along, jokingly shoving him to the side with a smile, trying to lighten up his mood, and succeeding brilliantly when she heard him chuckle.

“Well, sugar, if I reckon correctly, it takes two to tango to make a young'un 'round these parts,” he smirked, faking innocence at the fact he got her pregnant.

Y/N gasp-chuckled, defending herself. “But it takes you not wanting to pull out beforehand to make the baby, isn't it right, honey? ~”

She clarified softly, putting her hand on his chest, batting her eyelashes cutely at him, and getting close enough to him to make their lips graze but not touch. All in the name of teasing him.

Daryl chuckled again, feeling attracted to her playful teasing, his breath hitching slightly as her lips grazed against his own. He couldn't help but smirk; his eyes locked onto her gaze.

He gently grabbed her hips, slowly pulling her closer to him to the point of having her almost seated on his lap.

“Oh, but ah know for a fact ya wudn't complainin' at the moment, darlin',” he continued, feeling proud for his little ‘achievement’ as he caressed her thigh over the sundress.

Feeling a little braver than usual, Y/N whispered: “And how would I, when you know how to drill me in the right spot? ~”

She murmured against his lips. Her gaze never left him, and her smile only widened each time he looked down at her lips and looked back at her eyes, obviously enchanted by her charms already.

Daryl's eyes darkened with desire, and his grip on her hips tightened slightly. He felt his heart racing at her words. He pulled her closer to him until their bodies were pressed together.

“Damn, woman… Ya know I ain’t doin' this here.” He groaned softly against her lips while devouring her with his stare. They sure were the only ones at the pond around then, but despite the tall, full, and flourishing grass, bushes, and plants, they could still be easily spotted if they decided to... get loose. (😏)

“Then why do you keep pulling me closer, hm, hun? ~”

It was sort of comical to see him struggle to compose himself in this situation, making Y/N not want to miss out on teasing him to the fullest. She placed both hands on his chest and slowly arranged her position on his lap to sit and view him better.

Daryl let out a low growl as Y/N moved closer. He felt the heat rising within him, his hands roaming from her hips to her backside, gripping it firmly. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks down at Y/N.

“Yar testin' ma limits, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled innocently, enjoying the effect she had on her husband.

“I guess the preggy hormones are doing their stuff again... I feel kinda—needy,” she admitted a little sheepishly and continued with a more serene tone. “But… that will have to wait for now.”

“Now... Why don't you tell me what got you so fed up before, love?“ She questioned, changing her position once again to avoid making Daryl even more aroused.

She looked into his eyes tenderly and patiently, waiting for him to pour out his heart.

He knew they were a team now that needed trust and communication to get through everything. So she trusted he would be able to let out what was on his mind that made him so tense earlier.

Daryl took a moment to compose himself, gathering his thoughts after being so close to Y/N. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly; his grip on her loosened a bit as he leaned back on the bench.

He averted his eyes for a moment, his expression becoming heavier.

“Tis just...everythin', know what am sayin'?” He paused and looked at her belly, then back at her eyes.

“Da kid, da thought of bein' a pa... is like a whole heap to deal with, y'know?” He expressed his deepest concern about your future child.

Seeing her husband so worried brought her heartache. She sighed and wrapped her hands around his head, placing them on her chest as she made circular movements on his scalp in a slow, comforting way.

“And here I thought I was silly for feeling bad about myself and thinking I wouldn't make a good enough mom and wife, while my dear husband was here on his own, questioning his capacity to keep us safe…” She sighed again and continued. “I'm really a bad wife, huh?”

Daryl leaned into Y/N's touch, closing his eyes as she ran her hands through his hair. He sighed deeply, feeling a mix of emotions but still negating her words.

“Nah. Ya ain't a bad wife. Yar da best damn wife. Yar perfect.”

He said it softly as he tried to encourage her. His voice was filled with a hint of frustration afterwards. “Ah jus'... 'm scared I ain't gonna be a good pa. I ain't never had a good example to follow, y'know?”

Y/N knew what he was referring to. They didn't speak so often about their pasts (deciding to let them be and find a future together), but she remembered the little Daryl commented about his family life and his broken relationship with... the man that was his father.

“Whatever happened back then... doesn't determine who you are today. You chose to be different from him, to be more understanding, to wait more patiently, and to love more deeply,” she started.

“Jesus, you've been up and about everywhere looking for baby items just to be prepared when he or she comes around.”

Y/N chuckled, reflecting on all the tiny clothes, toys, and more that Daryl kept bringing back each time he went on a run since he learned Y/N was pregnant with their child. Seeing him come over to her in an excited, uncharacteristic way to show her his new finding was as amusing as endearing.

“You're nothing like him. You're you, and you're better. And I know it scares you. Damn, it scares me too.” She insisted (unnoticedly mild-cursing), knowing well who the man she fell in love with was and how much he matured and developed just by being with you and the others.

Her sudden, brittle voice indicated she was about to cry. She felt the hormones hitting her, making her feel sadder and more vulnerable than she had seconds ago. “But… sniff But I know we will be alright because... sniff because we have you, we have each other, and... sniff and that's all that matters to me, so... we will get to learn how to raise our child together. We w-will set the good example ourselves, o-okay?”

Her voice trembled at the last sentence as she grabbed a hold of his face, pressing his cheeks together to make him look over at her. Finally, she had let go of her emotions and became a teary mess, non-stop sniffing before him.

Almost used to her mood swings already, Daryl couldn't help but chuckle softly despite the seriousness of the situation, amused by the little it took to make her cry now, even if she was already quite emotional beforehand.

“Baby, yar crying... again. I swear yer hormones have been all over the place,” he stated in a playful manner, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. He then took her hands into his own, holding them gently. The difference in size and texture was kinda silly.

“Still… Yar dang right 'bout us, we're gonna stick together. I ain't never been good at all this family business, but I'll do whatev'r it takes for ya and our young'un.” Daryl promised to her lover, feeling more accepting of his new role.

“I-I can't help it... sniff the pregnancy... sniff I swear I've never been so emotional about everything before... sniff I hate it... And you know I hate swearing too…” She complained, her voice increasing in intensity as she recalled her distaste for swearing and swearing words.

“It just… It hurts me so much when sniff I see you like this... Like you'll get tired of me or sick of us, and—”

Y/N stopped herself, incapable of completing what came to mind as more tears fell. The unlooked-for thought brought a new fear to her mind: a possible future without Daryl, having to tend and care for the baby alone.

It terrified her.

Daryl's expression softened even more as he saw her tear up. Damn hormones got her all upset, and all he wanted to do was take it all away. His chest twisted in pain when she mentioned he could get tired of her, so he gently pulled her closer to him with a firm grip.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said, guiding her gaze to his by holding her chin. “Sunray, ya got nothin' to worry about, y'hear me? I ain't goin' nowhere... 'M plum crazy 'bout ya, and I ain't never leaving ya or our young'un, I promise. I ain't getting tired of you, sweetheart; yar everythin' to me.”

He confessed sweet things to her, wanting Y/N to feel the depth of his love for her.

“B-but… sniff the way you sniff yelled before…” She argued between sniffs and hiccups, being so focused on her mood that she kept forgetting to breathe properly.

“I thought I… I did something to sniff get you upset with me again, like... sniff like when sniff I misplaced your crossbow last week and you sniff wouldn't talk to me until I found it…”

She couldn't help but sob at the remembrance, making Daryl feel a pang of guilt when she mentioned his reaction earlier and last week. He had made her so hurt for not talking to her that it still poked at her. And damn, she was crying even more now. He hated seeing her like this. His little sunray was all cloudy because of him.

“Hey, come on now, sweetcheeks... I'm sorry for hollerin' at ya, ait? I was a bit... on edge, but it had nothin' to do with ya, ait? S'not nothin' to worry about.” He spoke softly as he pulled her even closer, his hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles, just like she did to him minutes ago.

“And 'bout that crossbow, that was nothin'.”

“But... sniff you got so angry... hiccup I thought you'd hate me forever if I couldn't find it… hiccup and the thing is, you always placed it anywhere! hiccup”

Y/N protested, claiming Daryl was the one constantly dropping his weapon all over the house, but the truth was, she was actually the one changing its location.

The pregnancy sure had its shortcomings, but one of them that mostly affected Y/N was easily misplacing things because she became a lot more forgetful (possibly because of the amount of blood, nutrients, and oxygen she was losing each day to provide to her baby and help him/her keep growing healthily). So, each time she'd see the crossbow somewhere she previously placed it while doing house chores, she'd think it was Daryl who placed it there, and she'd put it somewhere else, and then she'd come across it again and place it somewhere else, over and over again.

It happened multiple times before with less meaningful things, but this was Daryl's crossbow we were talking about. When he would come back home looking for his main weapon, Daryl would find it missing, and when he would ask Y/N, she wouldn't remember where she last saw it.

After hours of scattering the whole house, she felt so silly when they finally found the crossbow inside their wardrobe. She couldn't even remember keeping it there, but... all pointed out that the pregnancy was just taking the best of her, and Daryl's stress wasn't really helping much.

Despite Daryl understanding the situation was a consequence of the pregnancy later on and trying as best as he could to make her feel better, inside her mind, she couldn't help but continue blaming herself for making him angry that day.

The silent treatment he gave her seemed to have broken her heart into two.

Daryl listened to her words, realising the severity of the case and feeling more stupid for not fully catching how much that incident had affected Y/N. Seeing her tears made his heart ache even more.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, feeling guilty for causing her so much worry, knowing she had too much on her plate already.

“Hear me out now. I ain't never gonna hate ya, y'hear? It was ma fault for bein' dang careless with where I left ma stuff. I shouldan't given ya the silent treatment; I was jus... frustrated,” he let on, taking the blame to make her feel less remorseful.

“I'm sorry... hiccup I just don't want to make you angry again…” She hiccuped once more, feeling her eyes water up for the nth time.

Daryl gently cupped her face, his calloused thumbs wiping away the tears. “Ya ain't got nothin' to apologise for, sweetheart. Believe me, I'm the one who should be apologisin' to ya.”

Daryl sighed.

“ 'm sorry for giving' ya the silent treatment. I was bein' a damn fool. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, ait? I'll never be angry with ya for real. I swear,” he admitted.

“Really?…” she asked with a trembling voice and big puppy eyes. He looked into her hazel eyes, his gaze loving.

“Really. I promise.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face; his touch was tender.

“Yar carryin' our baby, remember? Tha's the most important thang rite now. Ain't nothin' else matters more than ya and our young'un. I ain't gonna waste time bein' mad over stupid shit like lost crossbows when I gotta take care of ya,” he professed, making a second vow to himself to keep you and his future child safe.

Y/N sniffed her feelings for the last time and tried to collect herself.

“Alright…”

She placed her chin over his head and hugged his neck softly, allowing him to place his head over the beginning of her belly, giving him access to listen to the baby's little movements and her heartbeats.

“I love you, Daryl... I love you so much, I don't know what I would do without you.” She still felt somewhat emotional as she said this, but she gave it her all to avoid crying again.

Daryl wrapped his arms around Y/N while placing his head gently over her belly. He listens intently to her heartbeats, the sound of them comforting him. He momentarily turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her belly, his lips lingering for a moment as he treasured this moment.

“I love ya too, baby. Y'all and this little 'un got me wrapped around yer dang fingers. Don't know what I'd do without y'all...” He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

He caressed her cheek with his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the contour of her jawline.

He then gently rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as they shared this intimate moment as they looked forward to whatever the future had in store for them because, if anything was sure, it was that they would do anything to stay together in love.

EXTRA:

They stayed on the pond for a while longer until Y/N said:

“I wanna have strawberries and cheese,” and Daryl looked at her like she had gone crazy.

“Berries 'n cheese? You serious?” he questioned. “It tastes good…” she whispered, defending herself.

Daryl shook his head, still not finding sense in those strange pregnancy food cravings, but he still wouldn't deny any of her cravings. If his queen wanted to eat strawberries and cheese, the man would get them for her.

“If tha' what ya want,” he answered, shrugging, making Y/N hug him, glad that he agreed on getting the'snack’ for her.

“I love you, Daryl.” “Love ya too, sweetcheeks.”

A/N: OH MY GOOD GOD, FINALLY. THIS WAS THE LONGEST I'VE EVER WRITTEN. Editing this was such a pain... But was worth it! Also, I may be planning a few more stuff for this cottagecore reader... as well as other projects of course. I think I'm gonna be super occupied now because I've got work, but I'm also planning a travel (and I wanna participate in two Daryl-related writing challenges...).

May God help me because I don't think I can help myself on this 😭 but anws, this was super endearing to write. It went through very little changes since the draft, compared to other stuff I wrote, and I did a collage image banner for it, inspired by @dixons-sunshine whenever she works on her stuff. Yeah, as you can see, all this post is focused on you hahaha, hope you had the greatest day today and I love ya lots. May God keep you for even longer and give you many more reasons to rejoice, celebrate and thank Him IJN 🥰

Now, imma retire now bc I stayed up almost all night trying to edit this... and I got work early in the morning... (seriously, this was like 12 pages on Word... 💀) See ya all around!

Thanks and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

support divider from @cafekitsune, on this post

[protagaster]

Hello, all! My hyper-fixation and maladaptive daydreaming scenarios are currently centering around the fantastic EPIC! the Musical, created by the amazing Jorge Rivera-Herrans!

However, because I have a female main character bias, I tend to imagine the songs as if they were sung by my current best girl: Penelope.

Thankfully, two artists went ahead and drew this into reality: @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium. Inspired by their works of perfection, I have gone and wrote the first of many vignettes based around this Warrior Penelope AU!

There is also a version on Ao3, if you prefer that platform over Tumblr!

EDIT (10/7):

Hello all! I'm in the process of heavily editing this AU in order to have it:

A) Make more sense

B) Fit the timeline better

You'll notice some changes here and there in the story! Some of the content was cut, but don't worry! I'm gonna add it into a fic of its own in the future, so look out for that! ;)

(Credit to @w3ndytheraccoon for an excellent idea of theirs I included in this AU! You'll see it towards the end!)

A King with no Queen (EPIC! Swap AU)

Odysseus is trying to cope with many things. 

His failure forced his beloved Penelope to fight the Trojan war in his stead, leaving behind all she ever knew and what she thought herself to be. In turn, the King was left to run his kingdom and raise their daughter all by himself. 

This is how things have been for the past 12 years. And now, to make things even harder, the first of his suitors have made themselves at home in his palace…

~

Odysseus is a rare kind of man. 

In fact, it was not uncommon for the King of Ithaca to be compared to a single drachma coin. There seemed to be two completely opposing sides driving him:

On one end, Odysseus was the alluring, cunning, quick-witted man that achieved many impressive feats throughout his life. 

He was deemed ready and crowned King of Ithaca at the young age of 13, despite his father being very much alive. He passed her challenge and was gifted the guidance of the Goddess of Wisdom herself, something he very much boasted to all who would listen.

He even fell in love with a Princess of Sparta!

And, despite the warnings of those closest to him, she too fell in love and accepted his hand, regardless of how small and lacking his humble Ithaca was compared to the grandiose and luxurious Spartan kingdom. 

Yes, despite being relatively smaller and having considerably less strength when compared to his fellow Greek man, Odysseus was a warrior with an arguably more valuable and sought after prowess: a warrior of the mind. 

So why, even with these innate talents and gifts of intellect, was it not enough to keep him from harm during that first year of war? 

Why was it not enough to keep her, the only person whose life he desired more than his own, to have to pay for his hubris? 

That was where the other side of Odysseus’ drachma came into view, a side of despair. A side of longing. A side that waited… 

~

“Your Majesty…”

Eurylochus waited for a moment, staring at the king from the double-doors of his bedchamber balcony. 

… 

Nothing. 

“Odysseus…” Eurylochus tried again, if not for a response then hoping for at least some form of acknowledgment.

… 

Still nothing. 

Eurylochus was unsure of what to do. 

It was far too early for his liking; the sun was still in the oceans’ embrace, the sky a dark indigo with only a few streams of orange light penetrating its serenity. 

The day was only just beginning. Any other morning Eurylochus would most likely still be asleep, albeit prepared to wake once the early light illuminated his dark and lonely bedroom. 

However, this day was not like any other. 

And so, with great reluctance for more than one reason, Eurylochus woke early to fetch his king. One of his best friends. His brother. 

And this made him nervous. 

Not to wake the other, mind, as Odysseus always woke within the first instances of Helios’ light. 

No, Eurylochus was nervous because of what the day represented. 

And so, in an act that could have been either futile avoidance, petty rebellion, or a sad mix of both, Eurylochus allowed his brother to have this one moment of disassociation. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the balcony, Odysseus continued to sit peacefully in his kline. He had chosen not to respond to the call of his name, despite knowing the urgency behind Eurylochus’ visit. 

Instead, Odysseus chose to stay true to his personal morning ritual: sitting in silence with morning’s first light.

He had honored this custom for more than a decade; he did not want today to be the one time he disturbed his routine, nor did he want to leave the comfort the balcony’s kline brought him. 

Every morning he sat in silence, waiting. Every morning he sat in his designated seat, the left side of the kline, soothed by what it represented. 

After all, it was Penelope’s very first contribution when brought to her new home. 

Odysseus remembered when the young couple had picked out the kline upon their first week of engagement, with Penelope first to declare that the right side belonged to her. Odysseus remembered laughing, saying that it made sense "considering she is always right". 

The kline was placed on the left side, on the farthest corner of their bedroom balcony. In this place the loveseat had a perfect view, with Ithaca’s beaches on one side and the villages of the common folk on the other. Penelope always loved this spot, for if she wanted she could see the sky kiss the ocean and embrace the beaches from above, or the hustle and bustle of her people, satisfied and content with their lives, down below. 

At first Odysseus did not understand why Penelope would subject herself to wake so early in the morning simply to gaze upon the rising sun. Now, only after she had been forcefully sent away, did he understand how something as simple as the day’s first light could bring an instance of happiness to an otherwise age of despair. 

And thus led to his daily ritual, one he has promised never interrupted no matter what.  

Every sunrise for the past 12 years, starting from the moment he woke, the King of Ithaca would spend a few minutes staring at the various views outside his bedroom balcony; it was never too long, but the minutes always lingered with a heavy sense of despair and longing.

...

How long has it been, Odysseus couldn’t help but wonder, since he last saw his wife lounging in their kline. When was the last time she beckoned him to join her with a wave of her delicate hand, appreciating the open air whilst the kingdom was in a state of silent calm and peace. 

Too long, Odysseus concluded to himself. 

“Ody…” 

Odysseus flinched, knowing the other only called him by that name when all other options failed. 

Finally turning to acknowledge his visitor, Odysseus saw Eurylochus leaning against the door frame. His best friend, his brother, was watching him with a sad look in his eyes. 

“It’s been 3 years,” Eurylochus' voice was sad, betraying the attempt of stoicism in his eyes. “They aren’t coming back-”

“You don’t know that.” Odysseus yelled out sternly. Unfortunately, he immediately regretted it when he saw Eurylochus let out a heavy sigh with his shoulders slumping in unison.  

“Eury… I-I’m sorry-” 

“It’s okay, Ody,” Eurylochus said with a smile that was not at all genuine. “I know.” 

Odysseus wanted to kick himself. After all, he and Eurylochus were stuck in the same horrible situation. 

Both men waited, longing for someone that was no longer by their side. Both men woke alone inside their isolated, dark, empty bedchambers, at one point naively unaware of how large a bed could be until that fateful day 12 years ago. 

Both men waited, longing for the return of their wives: Queen Penelope of Ithaca and her best friend and second in command, Princess Ctimene.  

It had been 13 years since the Trojan war officially began, a petty debate between the Gods leading to Helen’s abduction. Menelaus and Agamemnon drafted Helen’s suitors to help in her rescue, using Odysseus’ proposed oath to defend her husband against those who would dare to challenge him. 

Odysseus had tried to avoid this draft through various means, but each attempt ended unsuccessfully. He was required to fight in this war, forced to take with him only the best of his Ithacan warriors. He remembered his tearful goodbyes to Penelope and Telemachas, filled to the brim with sorrow at having to leave his beautiful wife and newly-born daughter. 

From then on, since he first set foot on Trojan soil and every subsequent battle thereafter, Odysseus would pray to the Gods to find a way to end his term in the war. Anything to return back to Ithaca as quickly as possible. 

The Gods were quick to grant his wish. 

That first year of war no one could have expected things to turn out as they did. 

The men had secretly infiltrated the Palace of Troy using various spies, successfully sneaking Helen out and tucking her aboard the first ship back to Greece. Unfortunately, the Trojans were quick to discover her disappearance. 

The Trojans took their revenge the next night. The Greek army, beyond ecstatic that their primary goal had been achieved, went to sleep that night with their bellies filled with meat and cups poured with more wine than water. 

None of them noticed the dead quiet of the nature surrounding them. 

The Trojans, with their own spies implanted in the Greek army, had found their hidden camps. Before the men of Greece realized it, they were too late. They were struck without mercy, the etiquettes of war no longer a priority.  

The Greeks, despite their night of festivities, put up one hell of a fight. The battle took hours, lasting from the darkness of night up until the early crack of dawn. 

The Trojans quickly retreated once early light hit. However, the damage was done.

In the struggle Menelaus and his closest brothers-in-arms were taken prisoner, held as a form of ransom. Odysseus was the only one in Menelaus' circle to avoid this capture, for Eurylochus and the rest of his Ithacan crew refused to allow the Trojans the glory of kidnapping their king whilst under their watch.

Though there were few deaths, the Greek men were maimed and damaged beyond repair. 

The lucky ones had escaped the confrontation with more scars and wounds littering their bodies, though they were the ones likely to return to combat after a short time of recovery. The unlucky ones, the majority of the men, had been struck deep in the flesh. Their injuries sustained left no meager scars or wounds, but permanent physical hindrances to their limbs and muscles. 

Odysseus was speared in his left shoulder. Though the gash had closed and relatively faded 12 years later, he could no longer maneuver his arm as easily as before. Without his weekly massages and leather brace, which he wore only when surrounded by those he trusted, he couldn’t even wield his bow as effortlessly as he once did. 

Eurylochus was sliced in his left eye, leaving him permanently blind from that view. He had also been struck in his leg, though it was not as severe as his previous injury and had already come to a full recovery.

Regardless, the state of the current Greek army was too grave to ignore. 

A few handfuls of the men, those deemed fit and well enough to continue combat, were left behind to hold down the front lines. The rest, consisting of practically their entire army, were sent back home to recover and sustain what little dignity they still had. 

Though he had been permanently damaged, Odysseus couldn’t help but see a small silver lining. Even if it wasn’t how he expected, the Gods had granted his wish. Now, he was able to stay by Penelope’s side and raise their daughter together. 

If only he had known then what he knew now. 

Even though the men could no longer partake in battle, Greece still needed an army. And of course, for the sake of their own petty interests, this is when the Gods intervened. 

Almost immediately after he had returned home, the God of War himself stood before them with his signature spear in hand. However, he was not there to speak with the King. 

He was there to make a demand of the Queen. 

Ares ordered his student, Penelope, and her unofficial sisters-in-arms, women trained in combat with the blessings of the God of War and Goddess of the Hunt, to fight in the war against Troy on his behalf. All of this was to “make up” with Hera, after first siding with the Trojans on Aphrodite’s request. 

Odysseus remembered how he pleaded, begging to return to the battlefield in his wife’s place. Pride and flesh be damned! 

Odysseus knew what Penelope’s life would look like in Troy, having experienced it himself for the past year. Even if she had sufficient knowledge in the art of combat, trained by her life as a Spartan and student of Ares, she was still a traditional woman who enjoyed traditional womanly activities. Fighting and killing in the name of the Gods as a woman had never been heard of before that point! 

And then there was Telemachas, their beautiful baby girl who was only a single year old. What would her life look like, growing up without her mother to guide her through the trials of womanhood? 

Unfortunately no amount of begging and pleading, nor the King’s friendship with Athena, could spare his wife of her mentor’s decree; neither could it spare the many other women trained in the art of defense. 

Within the next two month a portion of Ithaca’s women, those of age and combat experience, boarded the ships to war. 

The next 12 years consisted of a mixed flurry of emotions. 

Of those 12 years it took 9 before the war came to an end. Helen, once nothing more than a damsel in distress, proved her strength to everyone with her contribution to the war. After rescuing Menelaus and the other captive men, the royalty of Troy were killed off to the last drop of blood. Rumors circulated within the Greek world that Penelope had a great hand to play in their victory, but the specificities were never clarified. 

Eurylochus, along with the people of Ithaca, recalled the look of pure joy in their King’s eyes when the messenger gave them the news. Many thought their King’s happiness was due to his wife’s battle prowess being praised by all who could speak, but those closest to Odysseus knew the truth.

Odysseus was ecstatic that his wife was finally coming home. 

Penelope would once again be inside his arms! Her warmth, her voice, her scent, they all would no longer be reduced to a distant memory. The people of Ithaca would once again have their Queen, and Telemachas could finally meet and learn from the mother she had heard so many wonderful stories about. 

That’s how things should have been by now. And yet, 3 years after the war’s end, the wives and daughters of Ithaca had still not returned. 

Many held out hope in the beginning, thinking that the womens’ delay was only a momentary setback. They believed it would not be much longer, that the women would return any day now. 

However, days turned into months. And those months quickly became years. 

With their hope dying alongside their wives and now presumed to now be widowers, the husbands and fathers of Ithaca reacted in very different ways. Many remarried, desperate to once again have their homes filled with the comfort of a wife and care of a mother. The rest could not bear the thought of remarriage, taking up vows of celibacy in honor of their fallen wives and praying to the Gods that their love alone would be good enough for their children. 

The one thing they all had in common: they had lost hope of their wives ever returning to Ithaca. 

This was where Odysseus differed from them all. 

His people, Eurylochus, and now even Polites had tried telling him how likely it was that Penelope perished at sea. They reminded him that as the King of Ithaca it was his duty to find a new Queen. The kingdom needed a female role model alongside the male, to help him rule and lead their kingdom to prosperity. This was the standard procedure for royalty in Greece.

But Odysseus was never one to follow the standard procedure. 

“Some of our… visitors… are making themselves at home in the throne room.” Eurylochus finally broke the silence once again, reminding Odysseus of the very thing he was trying to disassociate from. “They’re asking when you’ll go to see them.” 

Odysseus couldn’t mask his frustration. 

3 years. That’s all those selfish dogs had given him to “mourn” for the love of his life, for the mother Telemachas never had the chance to know. 

And now that the 3 years were up, they expected him to move on just like that. 

“Already?” Odysseus commented as he rose from his left seat, almost feeling impressed with the desperation of his so-called guests. “Helios hasn’t even finished placing the sun in its morning spot.”

“C’mon, you and I know human nature better than anyone.” Eurylochus scoffed, having to turn his head to get a proper view of the palace yards beginning to pack with various women and their guards. “Who would ever resist the chance to obtain more power?” 

Odysseus let out a scoff of his own as he walked back inside his bedchamber, practically identical to Eurylochus’. Though his expression was quick to change into one of concern. 

“What of Telemachas!? Is she-” 

“She’s still sleeping. I went to check on her before coming to get you.” Eurylochus answered calmly to Odysseus’ growing anxiety. “I knew you’d ask, so I figured I’d get it out of the way.”

Odysseus let out a sigh of relief. Eurylochus was one of the very few people he trusted with the keys to his palace, which meant he was one of the only few with the ability to open the doors of the royal bedchambers. 

If Telemachas was still asleep, then that meant she would be spared of the wrath and judgments of the “guests” below. For now. 

He would have to check in on her later, for both their sakes. 

Meanwhile, for the sake of maintaining peace, Odysseus had a duty to greet his guests and show them hospitality. Even if he didn't want to. 

And he really, really didn't want to. 

~

Odysseus, now wearing his royal chiton and elegant gold crown, walked down the halls of his palace with his head held high. Eurylochus walked by his side, hand strategically placed near the handle of his broadsword, ready to protect his King from strangers with ill intent. 

It did not take long to make their way to the palace throne room. Given how small Ithaca was as a kingdom, it made sense for the royal palace to look smaller in comparison to neighboring palaces. 

However, even with the relatively small structure, both men shouldn’t have been able to hear commotion within the throne room from 4 halls ahead. This was an immediate indication to Odysseus of how many women were already vying for his kingdom. 

Once the two men stood close enough to the throne room’s closed doors they were able to hear the muffled voices from before much more clearly. 

“What’s the hold up!?”

“We’ve been waiting for hours!” 

“Why can’t we find the King ourselves?!” 

They all sounded feminine. And very annoyed. 

“Ladies, please!” A man's voice, Polites’, called out from the other side of the doors. “The King will arrive in just a moment! So, in the meantime, why don’t we all conduct ourselves in a polite, orderly fashion?” 

A chorus of exasperated groans; if there were any words spoken then they were undecipherable due to the sheer loudness of the crowd. 

Odysseus saw Eurylochus toss him a look, one that had “I told you so” written all over it. 

Nevertheless Odysseus let out a deep breath, praying to the Gods above that he looked much more confident than he felt. With a nod to the other, Eurylochus made his way to the double doors of the throne room. 

He threw the doors open, attracting the attention of every guest within the throne room. Welcome or otherwise.

Eurylochus’ booming voice could be heard from every corner of the large room:

“Presenting His Majesty, Odysseus, King of Ithaca!” 

Everyone within the throne room, friend, suitor, or guard, either kneeled or bowed at the sight of the luminous King of Ithaca. 

Odysseus paid them no mind. He opted to stare straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular. He sat on the left throne, despite royal customs declaring he sit on the right. The right seat belonged to Penelope and Penelope only. 

He would make sure every suitor in his palace remembered this. 

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the room, while Odysseus prepared to address the crowd, Polites was slowly inching his way to Eurylochus’ side. Eurylochus did not notice the younger approaching him, only realizing when Polites had placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Polites gestured to the third member of their friend group, mouthing a silent “Is he okay?”. 

Eurylochus blanked, unsure of how he should answer, before opting to shrug his shoulders; Not necessarily disagreeing but not entirely agreeing either. 

Polites understood. Odysseus was somehow both managing and not. 

Polites couldn’t help but grow somber. He could sympathize, but never fully understand. He will never fully understand the pain his best friends shared when it came to the misfortune caused to them by the Trojan war. 

Polites was one of the lucky few spared of permanent injury on that fateful battle 13 years ago. Any wounds and scars he attained had long since faded, their only proof of existence reduced to mere memory. Meanwhile, Odysseus and Eurylochus had sustained injuries that would affect them for the rest of their lives. 

Odysseus and Eurylochus were also victims to the whims of the Gods, for the divine ordered their wives to war in their stead. How must it feel, to know the love of your life was forced to act as your replacement simply because you allowed yourself to be moved by premature pride? 

Even though it was painful to Eurylochus, Polities knew it was pure agony to Odysseus. He had lost both his younger sister and wife due to a rash victory party… 

Odysseus suddenly shot his best friends a look, silently indicating to them that he was ready for his speech. 

Polites and Euylochus stood straight and gave him their undivided attention. They were ready to lend him their support, regardless of the difficult decision he made. 

“Greetings, my friends.”  

Odysseus took mental note of the amount of women littering his throne room. 32 in total, so far.

“I am delighted to see so many new, cordial faces in our humble kingdom on this day,” 

The suitors weren’t stupid. They all knew Odysseus did not mean a word of what he was saying. He was just spouting flowery nonsense for the sake of appearances. 

However, it mattered not what he felt. All that mattered was his submission to the expectations of Greek royalty.  

That included his remarriage. 

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush.” Odysseus gave everyone an easy, nonchalant smile. “You all want to know who I will take as my new Queen.” 

That threw everyone for a loop. 

Those who knew Odysseus, his guards, servants, and slaves, were surprised at how readily he addressed the issue he tried so desperately to avoid. 

The suitors, along with their guards, were also shocked that he was willing to address the issue without hesitation. Were the rumors about him and his loyalty to his wife all false? 

Polites and Eurylochus, who had known Odysseus for practically their entire lives, couldn’t help but feel a semblance of worry with his words. Odysseus was not one to just give up so easily, especially in matters concerning his heart. 

Just what was he planning? 

Odysseus, for his part, did not betray a single one of his thoughts with that easy smile of his. He stood still, waiting for the commotion to cease, before once again speaking to the crowd. 

Polites and Eurylochus, along with one mysterious suitor, were the only ones to notice the mischievous glint in the King’s eyes. 

“However, in respect of honoring the deceased, I regret to inform you all that I can no longer discuss the matter anytime soon.” 

“WHAT!?” 

A chorus of angry voices were quick to make themselves known at the end of his declaration. Two or four voices quickly became 31, each one demanding to know why he couldn’t choose a new wife right then and there. 

Again only one of them was silent, leaning against the side of the wall with her arms crossed. She watched the King with an intense stare. 

Odysseus raised a single hand, prompting the angry voices to silence themselves. 

“As I was saying…” The King’s smile dropped, replaced with an expression of stoicism. “I plan to honor and respect my wife in death as I did in life. And so, in her memory, I will carve a wooden statue in the form of the late Queen. This will be done carefully and with precision, achieved by my hands and my hands only.” 

Another chorus of annoyed and angered groans sounded from the women. They all knew it was bound to take a long time before the statue was even close to completed. 

Eurylochus and Polities were a mixed bag of reactions, one impressed with the cunning of his friend and the other filled to the brim with worry. They both knew Odysseus was talented in the art of carving; As a symbol of his long-standing love to Penelope, he had made her a bridal bed from the inside of a long-lasting tree. However, that was before his injury to his arm. How long would it take, to carve out a wooden statue that could rightfully honor the beauty and grace of Penelope of Ithaca, all with a bad shoulder, a kingdom to run, and a child to raise? 

It was the perfect plan. 

Odysseus had been scheming ever since he heard talk of his “inevitable” remarriage. The king knew he had to delay choosing a new wife, if not for his fidelity and loyalty to Penelope then for the sake of his daughter. 

Who knows what would happen to her if he remarries, for what Queen would allow the daughter of her predecessor to take the throne? 

No, he needed to be smart and tactical about this. He needed to use the gifts of quick-thinking and feeling calm under pressure bestowed to him by Athena. Telemachas was already 13, well on her way to 14. All he had to do was keep his suitors at bay for a few more years, until the Princess was deemed ready to be Queen. Then Telemachas would be allowed to ascend to the throne without any complaints from his adversaries. 

This statue was the perfect excuse. He will spend as much time as he needed carving it, forever if he had to. 

He could do this. He will find a way. For himself. For Telemachas. For Penelope. 

~

Odysseus was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice how one of his suitors was looking at him. She stared at him quietly, intensely, glaring at him from the moment he walked into the throne room. 

She couldn’t look away from his body. His tanned, toned, delicious body. She noticed the way Odysseus’ chiton stuck to his waist, showing off his firm, fit figure. 

When he lifted his hand to silence the crowd, the fabric of his clothing was forced to rise up; his naked body, only briefly displayed, was shown to anyone standing at a certain angle. She was the one lucky enough to stand at this angle. 

She could see his torso from where she stood. She saw his v-line fade into his abdomen, some single stray beads of sweat drip down in that path. She saw a set of prominent abs, mild but still very much there, that shuddered with each breath he took. And finally, before he lowered his arm and his torso was covered once more, she was able to see his pectorals in full view. They were flat, but still round; oh, what must it feel like to take a bite of that flesh, to watch as the man underneath was fully marked and claimed?

There was no doubt about it. He was beautiful. He was perfect. 

He was hers. 

Based on what he just declared, accompanied by rumors circulating the palace, it appeared that he planned to make his remarriage a difficult process for his suitors. 

That was fine.

She can be patient. 

No matter how long it took she’d find a way to force him to accept her, even if she had to hold him down and take him by force.

After all, she was blessed by Zeus himself. Though not his child, and by definition having no divine blood, one would be forgiven for assuming differently based on her ability to look forever young despite her age. The King of Gods gave her this gift, saying he knew her to be a kindred spirit. 

The point was anything and everything she ever wanted would belong to her.  

Ithaca. 

The Right Throne. 

Odysseus.

No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do, one day all of it will bear her name. 

Calypso.

[shadykazama]

Hi Hi!! can i ask for Junkerqueen sfw and nsfw headcanons? <3

Omg yes I'd love to!! I've been waiting for more character requests

I don't know who drew this but god bless them 🙏 and if anyone knows the artist please tell me so I can credit them

Odessa Stone hdcs 💙

SFW💙

She's 7 feet tall so she's most likely taller than you

Will be picking you up and swinging you around like a madwoman just cause you're smaller than her

She will hold things out of reach and make you kiss her to get it

Sits you in her lap whenever she has to do stuff

Sitting in a meeting? You're there ofc and in her lap

In the arena watching junkers brawl it out? You can guess where you'd be

Now on the off chance you're the same height or dare I say TALLER than her?

Great!

Especially if you have a competitive spirit cause she'll want to compete

Who's stronger? She'll demand to wrestle.

(She'll do that if you're smaller than her too she'll just go easy on you since it's not a fair fight)

Regardless of your size she's going to show you off at every given opportunity

Keeps you by her side as an advisor (she just likes your opinion, you got a title as an excuse when someone called her out for it)

Has the STUPIDEST nicknames for you. Ofc calls you Babe, but also other things depending on your personality. Some examples being Snapper (if you're short, since you're an ankle biter aka a snapping turtle), Silvie (if you're competitive cause you'll always get second place if she's competing), she'll call you Doc if you're smart (even if you're not a doctor), prince/princess (if you don't getting dirty) etc..

Favorite place to kiss you is on the lips- will tease you if you can't reach her

Always places her hand on the small of your back to really bring you in close. Bonus points if it flusters you

Is amused by the most mundane things

Rub noses with her to be all cute she'll think it's revolutionary

She'll braid your hair for you if you have enough. Loooves to do it for you, thinks the braids make you hot

Makes sure you get anything you want, definitely spoils you. But hey, perks of being queen.

If she's fighting in the Arena, her eyes are on YOU. Makes sure you see every cool little move she does. Will pick you up and kiss you in front of everyone when she wins

NSFW ❤

Has a strap, no I don't take criticism 🫶

More seriously though, she's experienced but still clumsy especially when it comes to intimacy

Any previous experience has come from nights of adrenaline fueled lust or childish boredom

Being soft and loving is something she'd want with you, but would have to get used to. So by all means, show her.

She'll slow down for you, a night with you means more than survival or winning or fighting. With you she can offer herself gently, and show you just how much you mean to her

Now this ^ doesn't mean she's beyond primal lust, if anything you make it worse for her. But she's capable of variety ;)

Moving on to the hot and heavy

She will sit on your face, good luck soldier

Will expect you to do the same (if you're AFAB)

She gets a lot of joy from that strap, and let's just say it's proportional :)

Will fuck you till you can't talk, and then makes you beg anyway

Wants to fuck on her throne

Please god let her fuck you on her throne

Lowkey into exhibitionism? Like she'd fuck you in front of someone just to prove a point (only if you were okay with it ofc but she def has fantasies about it)

Ass kinda lady, likes it on anyone

Has a clit piercing for SURE

Has definitely put the handle of her knife to use if you know what I mean

Will use it on you too if you say yes 🙏

If you're AMAB expect to be pegged or ridden there is no in between

Does not have the patience to be on bottom unless you're eating her out (and even then she'd prefer to just sit on your face)

Will praise you but in a very patronizing way

Likes to tell you how good you're doing but also remind you that you're serving HER.

Smacking your ass is her favorite cheeky way of teasing you in and out of the bedroom.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

summary: meeting the handsome guy from the shop next door doesn't go quite as you expect it to

pairing: tattoo artist! kazuha x florist gn! reader

warnings: none except for kazuha himself, just pure fluff

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

The breeze gently swayed the wind chimes decorating your humble flower shop as you rearranged some of the bigger plants. Despite the warm spring weather and bright sun, it was a tranquil day at the shop. With no holiday around the corner, people weren’t exactly barging down your door at this time of day.

As you were about to repot some of the flowers which had grown too big for their respective pots, your doorbell signalled a customer entering. Quickly, you made your way over into your sales area. In the middle of your shop stood a white-haired man, his mask pulled down and hair tied into a ponytail. When he turned to you, a red streak among the white caught your attention, as well as a few piercings. You couldn’t recall seeing him here before but he seemed somewhat familiar anyway.

“Hi there, how may I help you?” you greeted cheerfully.

“Hello,” he replied warmly, crimson eyes forming crescents as he smiled. In the back of your mind, you noted how beautiful he was. “I was looking for a bouquet or maybe a small potted plant, I’m not quite sure yet. It’s supposed to be a gift. Do you have anything you’d recommend?”

“Sure, please take a look over here.” You walked him over to a small area of potted plants sitting in aesthetically decorated pots. “Personally, I prefer gifting plants like these over cut flowers. Not only do they last a lot longer, they’re also easy to care for. In the end, the choice is yours though, and I’d be happy to show you the already arranged bouquets or bind a unique one for you.”

“Thank you very much, these are perfect though. My mother has a thing for house plants,” he chuckled. Ah, so it was a present for his mother. “Oh, is that a maple leaf over there?”

Stepping aside to let him take a closer look, you nodded. “It is, nicely spotted. I think they make for great decorative elements, given their striking colour.”

“It happens that I’m quite fond of them, too.” The man rolled up the left sleeve of his white jacket to reveal an intricate tattoo sleeve of what appeared to be maple leafs swirling in the wind. “They remind me of home.”

“Wow,” you said, in awe at the artwork, “that is amazing. Whoever drew this must be seriously talented.”

“Yeah, Xiao put his all into this. I drew the actual piece though, so I’m giving myself some credit here,” he sheepishly confessed and scratched his neck. “Ah, Xiao is my colleague. We actually work at the studio next door.”

“So that’s why I thought I had seen you before. It’s nice to meet you, neighbour,” you laughed before giving him your name.

“What a beautiful name, it suits you well.” The melodic lilt of his smooth voice made heat creep up your neck. “My name is Kazuha.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything and it seemed as though the world had stopped as you watched the sunlight break in his crimson eyes. Then with a snap, you remembered where you were and why you were there. You quickly cleared your throat and held up the small plant to him.

“Is this going to be your choice then or would you rather look around a little longer?”

“As much as I’d love to have an excuse to stay, I do think she’d like this one very much,” he said. As you walked over to the register and checked out the plant, you tried not to think about his words too much, otherwise you might not have been able to do much else. When all was said and done, Kazuha pulled his mask up again, yet you could still see his smile beam from his eyes. “Well then, it was nice getting to know you. I hope we’ll see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so too. Have a nice day and feel free to stop by whenever you’d like.”

The doorbell chimed again as Kazuha left with a small wave, which you returned shakily before you buried your face in your hands. Did this really just happen? Did this beautiful man say he wanted to see you again? Was he actually flirting or just being polite? You thought it best not to interpret too much into it, lest you get your hopes up, but your heart was beating out of your chest anyway.

You calmed down over the next few days, although the first couple of times a customer came in, your heart -the traitor- skipped a beat and you mentally kicked yourself for acting like a lovesick fool over a guy you had met once. Slowly but surely though, it was business as usual again and your encounter with him didn’t occupy the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until one afternoon, on which you were faced with striking crimson eyes, that was. You blinked a few times before your brain rebooted and you scrambled for something to say.

“K-Kazuha! Nice to see you again,” you greeted, not very professionally, might you add. “Here for another potted plant?”

Fortunately he chuckled about your clumsy attempt at a joke before gently shaking his head. “No, not today. My mother was quite delighted though, so thank you very much for the recommendation.”

“Not at all, you’re the one who picked after all.” Hiding your fidgeting hands behind your back, you tried your best to hold eye contact. “What brings you here then?”

“Ah you see, I'm here to ask a small favour.” At the curious tilt of your head, he continued. “I was wondering if I could stay here for a while to sketch. Last time I was here, I couldn’t help but feel inspired by all the beautiful flowers. I understand if you say no though.”

“No,” you said immediately before catching yourself. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. I’m very flattered actually. Just make yourself comfortable.”

With a warm ‘thank you’, Kazuha settled in a sunny corner of your shop and pulled pencil and paper from his bag. At first you were a little nervous with him there, hyper-aware of your every movement, but it wasn’t long before you found comfort in his presence. 

This became a regular occurrence afterwards. Kazuha would come over to draw whenever he didn’t have any clients booked as you went about your business, every now and then insisting to help you move a heavy pot to make himself useful. Somewhen down the line, he started bringing you coffee or take-out after learning your preferences and vehemently resisted having you pay him back. At one point, you started to wonder whether his coworkers missed him at all.

“They’ll live without me,” he laughed. “And even if, it’s not like I’m far away.”

Another major plus of having Kazuha around was getting a glimpse of his newest pieces, either through a peek over his shoulder or just straight-up asking him. There was something so vivid about his sketches, as if he transferred the vitality of the flowers directly onto the page and you were blown away every time.

One evening, you were sitting in your shop well after closing time. The two of you hadn’t planned to spend the night in, but as fate would have it, it started to heavily pour down as Kazuha was about to leave. So you, without any selfish ulterior motives, offered him to stay until the rain let up.

That was how you found yourself eating some of the pastries he had brought you earlier while Kazuha was drawing vines and flowers onto your arm after you asked him what kind of tattoo he thought would suit you. As he worked, it gave you a great opportunity to study him. 

His light brows were slightly furrowed as he concentrated, his eyes firmly fixed on your skin and his teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip every other minute. The touch of his left hand, holding and angling your arm as he needed it, sent chills up your spine and the pressure from the pen felt more intimate than it should have. Your body was set ablaze with nerves almost as if you got a real tattoo.

All too soon, Kazuha withdrew the pen from your skin, kept his other hand, however, on your arm, sliding it down a little further so it rested almost over yours. His thumb traced some of the lines almost absentmindedly. If he kept this up, you were afraid you’d melt into a puddle right on the spot, not that that would be such a bad way to go out. Then, he slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours through his long lashes and your breath hitched. You were actually sitting across from some kind of ethereal being, you were sure of it.

“So,” he started, voice low in the dimly lit shop, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s beautiful,” you replied without hesitation.

“I’m flattered, but perhaps,” he gave you a sly smile, “you should take a look at the tattoo first?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks as you averted your eyes. “All your art is gorgeous though, it’s not like I’d have to look to know it’s true,” you mumbled.

Kazuha wore his faint blush a lot more gracefully than you did as he too looked down to take in the lines on your skin in their entirety. The motive he’d chosen was a branch of flowers wrapping around your underarm, detailed and fine, despite the less than ideal equipment to work with. Between the petals, there was one or the other maple leaf peeking through, causing you to smile. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if it was actually inked onto your skin.

“It makes me happy to hear you have so much trust in me,” he genuinely said.

“Looks like I seriously have to think about getting a tattoo now,” you laughed, although there was actual seriousness bleeding into it. “Perhaps I should make an appointment with… what was his name? Xiao?”

“Come on, gorgeous, you can’t tease me like this,” he gasped in faux offence. “You wouldn’t rob me of the honour of being the one to tattoo you, right?”

“I could never,” you breathed, goosebumps rising all over your arm from where he continued to touch you. And Kazuha seemed to notice it too.

“Are you cold? Here, have my jacket.” Before you could refuse, he’d already stepped around the table and draped the garment over your shoulders. You could feel his body heat still emanating from it, the pleasant scent of his cologne surrounding you. “We wouldn’t want you catching a cold, would we?”

You hummed as a response, brain not procuring anything more profound at the newfound proximity. Just like the first time you met, you lost yourself in his swirling pools of maple but this time nothing was there to yank you back to stop you from drowning in them. 

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” Kazuha quietly asked, almost as if talking more to himself. “I truly can’t recall anything which could compare.”

“I can,” you countered. When he raised a brow, you continued. “He’s standing right in front of me, actually.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said fondly. One of the hands previously resting on your shoulders trailed over your skin, light as a feather, before cupping your cheek as if you were a delicate flower. “Hopefully this is not too forward, but… May I kiss you?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

Guided by his hand, you rose from your seat to meet Kazuha halfway before closing your eyes. When your lips met, your first thought was how his lips were as pillowy soft as you imagined. Yours moved seamlessly against them, as if you had done this a hundred times already, yet it was still excitingly new at the same time. Threading your hand into the base of his snowy hair, you carefully tested the waters but were immediately rewarded with a blissful sigh and an arm wrapping around your waist, Kazuha’s fingers splaying over the small of your back and pressing you impossible closer to his chest. 

Only pulling back far enough to speak against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazed into yours as his thumb brushed your cheekbone like the wind caressed the leaves on a tree. “I almost don’t want to stop.”

“Then don’t”, you whispered.

“You have no idea what you do to me, love,” Kazuha groaned before diving back in, this time deepening the kiss almost immediately. Neither of you noticed, nor cared, that the rain had stopped a while ago, too lost in one another to think about much else.

But, quite unfortunately, both of you needed air to live, so you had to reluctantly part eventually. While you breathed heavily, trying to force oxygen back into your lungs, Kazuha peppered a myriad of playful kisses along your jaw and the side of your neck, your giggles reverberating around the shop at the tickling sensation. When he resurfaced, there was a bright spark in his eyes as he mirrored your smile. 

“Even if this might not be the proper order in which to do this, I’d love to take you out on a date one of these days,” he said, seeking out your hand with his and intertwining them. “And hopefully a second one after that.”

“A date, huh?” Running the hand still slung over his shoulder through his hair, you mused lightheartedly. “Sounds like an awful lot of effort to get a new client to tattoo, don’t you think?”

“What can I say,” he played along, “I’m very devoted to the things I hold dear.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you said sincerely, catching on to the double meaning behind his words. “Seems as if I have fallen for your scheme then. 

“A date sounds lovely.”

[tealmaskmybeloved]

Explaining the Toxic Chain Kieran Theory (and why I loved it so much)

DISCLAIMER: You CAN like how things went in canon, or you can dislike the theory entirely. All I ask is for you guys to be respectful when discussing it. The last thing I want is people getting harassed for this.

I'm aware that this isn't going to change anyone's mind on the theory, but I figured I'd do my best to at least explain why I enjoyed it so much (as well as to find other people who like the theory because it seems like they all dipped after the epilouge dropped like seriously where are yall PLEASE /lh /j)

I will also be using other people's art and interpretations on the theory, and I will do my best to credit and link every single one I use. Any art that is not credited is due to me cannot finding the original artist, and if anyone knows who drew any non-credited art can let me know and I will update this post with credit.

This is also a long post, so get ready for a lot of rambling!

With that out of the way, let's begin!

What was the theory about?

As the name suggests, this theory was that Kieran would let his desire to get stronger than the player consume him, to where he'd become another one of Pecharunt's (called Dokutaro in the game files) retainers.

There have been some variations to this, from subtle whispers of power and some manipulation to straight-up possession.

But the one thing the theories had in common was that Kieran was influenced, manipulated, or possessed by Pecharunt/Dokutaro.

Some examples I found:

Credits:

Note: Mist_the_moth's art (the one in the top right) was deleted due to Instagram's AI scraping

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

But a theory doesn't become a theory without some evidence, so let's dig deep into it!

The Evidence

(Some of this is debunked, but at the time it was considered)

1. The purple mist

When Kieran punches the shrine of the Loyal 3, an ominous purple mist is briefly shown around Kieran's fist.

This mist is also in the Indigo Disk promotional art

When the epilouge Mochi Mayhem released, the mist around Kieran's fist is identical to the one around Pecharunt's victims. While this was not known at the time, it is a pretty strange connection.

2. Kieran's Parallel to the Loyal 3

The Loyal 3 each wanted something.

Okidogi desired strength

Munkidori longed for cleverness

Fezandipiti wished to be beautiful

And at the time, Kieran wanted power. He wanted to be stronger than the protagonist.

At the time, people theorized that Kieran could have sought out Dokutaro for a Toxic Chain and Dokutaro would have given Kieran want he wanted in exchange for his free will.

Kieran would also fit to be the boy on the signboard along with the Loyal 3.

With Kieran tying up his hair at the end of the Teal Mask, a lot of people (myself included) thought the hairband would be a Toxic Chain like the Loyal 3 had.

3. The connection to the story of Momotaro

The story of Momotaro follows a boy born from a peach who befriends a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant to help defeat the evil Ogres in the lands.

The Loyal 3 and Dokutaro fit the peach and the 3 animal companions, and Kieran would be the boy in the story.

It made sense for the two to be connected in a way, as it fits the original story of Momotaro. The "boy born from a peach" concept would have been interesting, with Kieran accepting his true potential while under Dokutaro's influence or observation (depends on what fits more)

My personal idea was that Dokutaro is more of a mentor to Kieran, and have Kieran still keep his free will and self. But, say, after Indigo Disk, Dokutaro gets frustrated with Kieran not desiring to get stronger anymore, so it possesses him as a means of winning against the protagonist. That way, people who wanted Kieran to be himself (mostly) could have that, and those who wanted Kieran to get possessed could also have that. Both sides would be satisfied.

This would also solve the common counterargument I've heard where Kieran getting possessed takes away from his character development and ruins his arc, and while I do understand that, the idea I suggested would at allow for Kieran to be at fault for some of his choices, so that nothing everything is blamed on Dokutaro.

Why it appealed to me

While I won't be able to speak on how others viewed it, I personally saw the Toxic Chain Kieran Theory as a nice parallel to the Loyal 3, and especially to the tale of Momotaro. It would be cool, interesting, and an interesting take on the tale of Momotaro.

All these ideas on how Dokutaro would act and look, whether it be subtle whispers and temptation of power to full on mind control. Both were equally enjoyable!

The designs were great, the art was amazing, and the speculation and theorizing were genuinely fun! But I suppose that's the danger of fan theories, you get too invested in them and get disappointed by canon.

Conclusion

I do know that many people enjoy the epilouge and the Untold Story of Pecharunt. It's great that you do! Don't let my feelings with it ruin your experience.

And the same goes to those who dislike the theory, it's fine if you do!

I made this post to explain my thinking and show the evidence we had to believe it. Even with the Toxic Chain Kieran Theory being debunked, it was still fun to speculate, to think of ideas, to have a good time!

I still enjoy the theory (a completely normal amount I swear /j) and I make my own posts and art on my own spin of it.

And if you happen to also like the theory, let me know! Feel free to send me an ask or DM me! I enjoy discussing it with others, and sharing ideas! Plus I'm always open to more Toxic Chain Kieran stuff.

I love this small community of us who enjoyed the theory, even if it's only a few of us.

Thank you for reading.

[relan-daevath]

Updates

Hello again. So thanks to the community I was noticed and contacted by TESO team. Thank you all ppl, really, I am a small artist and my chance to be noticed was little without your reposts and reaction.

The team assures that there was a mistake and they never wanted to use fanarts without permission.

We exchanged quite friendly messages, the contents of which I do not want to disclose yet. Now I am waiting for a second answer. It is now the Easter holidays and an answer cannot be received quickly. Let's be patient and wait. ...See the whole post to discover some more funny details. ↓

...

Well... I think particular employee just did their job… BAD. This is just my guess, I don't have an official comment.

Some indirect evidence of a dishonest work (lack of verification?) is that that set of tattoos is called "Mercymothers". The Merciful Mother is Almalexia, and the tattoos are clearly depicting Sotha Sil. You should be completely out of lore to do that… or it's a deeplore that I am too silly to understand )) (don't think so, using Occam's Razor)

...

Whatever it was, that dude (if so) did their job badly twice. Here are paired face tattoos (Mersymother's Face Art) in addition to body tattoos.

See the ponytail above the heart? And here it is on the face. So the whole set is cut from my picture. Alas.

This would not be evident if we did not know the history of the first picture.

I want to point out that I am not throwing accusations. Shit happenes even in big companies, now we need to understand who is to blame and what to do.

Any such things should be dealt with as correctly as possible. I was surprised when someone called me toxic in the comments for my first reaction. How else should I have reacted? Be silently happy?

...

And about copyrights.

I drew a fanart and I didn't monetize it, it's not forbidden as I konw :) But now company: 1. took it without asking me 2. sells it in the crownstore for real money.

All rights to the scrolls lore belong to the company! But without the consent of the artist, even fanart cannot be used. So now we need to figure out a solution that satisfies every side of the incident (I think). At the very least, I should be credited as an artist in the credits of a new chapter or such place.

...

Love you all and still love Scrolls universe, eheh.

[salpho]

Current plans (rambles and ideas) for the DCTL redrawn project

First off, I just came up with that title on the spot and it works super well so I'll stick with that probably pffh. Follow the tag if interested in participating !! Anyways, here's my rambles.

I wanna do some more research on Chris Hastings. Fellow Bendy wiki staff have pointed out that he adapts the books rather than illustrate them, which I didn't realise had any difference beforehand. Basically means directing stuff like backgrounds, setting, etc from my knowledge. They sourced this user that seems to know a thing or two about him and his work, along with getting an early copy of the graphic novel. I'll do proper research and make a seperate post soon for this.

Moving onto the project itself, I've got some jumbled thoughts I'll try and make sense of-

I'll reread DCTL to understand the book properly, all work going foreward from there

Design work will start after this, all characters will have set, universal designs based off of canon, official (such as meatly's word), book descriptions and more, such as racecoding (I'll do justice for Thomas and Norman) and time period. I'll likely be designing them alone, but I may listen to other participant inputs and ideas to make sure they're the best they can be.

This novel will be drawn from scratch !! We won't base or reference anything off of the original graphic novel, we'll only be using the original DCTL book and its word.

Every page will act as a "map part", basically having one artist do an entire page/pages. Some may want to collaborate with others (such as one person doing the backgrounds with the other doing characters) for their pages which is more than welcome.

Newer/less skilled artists are more than welcome to offer to participate, please don't let your skill level or own perception of your art discourage you !! I'd love to give you all a chance.

I may be pinging those who said they'd be happy to participate once I make the call post. Once ready to make that post, I'll be starting a discord server for communication. This will also include a google doc or something similar so we can get full quality pages from everyone rather than compressed images from the app.

The project's novel will begin with foreword. This will include background for why it was started, clearly state it was made as a protest against the original graphic novel, Mike's view of minorities in fiction and will also state it was made because we care and love this series, and want it to do better. It will credit and link to the artist who drew the original and explain why we believe the artist was mistreated and should've had more time and pay. Stuff of that sort.

Every page will have the artist's signatures/@'s in the margins, and the novel will have a glossary of all who participated.

Things may change, we'll see, but these are the rough plans I've got so far. Would love to hear your thoughts and ideas as usual !!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

AFS: Deleted Scene

a/n: I'm testing a new thing here. There are a few scenes that I wanted to include in the story but there wasn't a good spot to fit it in and keep my plotlines at a good pace. SO, I will be posting the occasional deleted scene! They'll typically be short little drabbles that I post sporadically and I'll always list a number to kind of tell you where it sits in the 'AFS' timeline lol

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluffy fluff

Word Count: 1,101

Summary: Grogu is an artist and he does not restrict himself to a single medium. Inspired by this post/art.

.

#4.5: HE IS A QUICK ONE

.

You hummed a song under your breath while cleaning the kitchen. Mando had told you time and time again that house work wasn’t necessarily part of your job description. Though you didn’t think was accurate. You didn’t know a lot about the responsibilities of a nanny, but if you were a betting woman you’d put credits on housework falling under the umbrella. So, despite him telling you to leave it be, you didn’t. Even if it wasn’t the job of the nanny to clean the house, you lived here as well which meant it was in part your responsibility as a roommate, at the very least. Mando could argue otherwise all he wanted. It’s not like he could stop you while he worked.

While Grogu napped, you took the opportunity to clean what you could. 

The sound of a quiet giggle made you pause. You rinsed the soap off your hands, leaving the few dishes you had left to clean in the sink, and used the kitchen towel you rested on your shoulder to dry your hands. Another giggle drifted from the hall. Grogu must have woken up from his nap. You chuckled to yourself and tossed the towel aside to go find him. Usually the boy called out for you when he woke up.

Down the hall, you spotted Grogu and it took you a second to recognize what the boy was keeping himself busy with. He stood crayon in hand as he worked on his masterpiece⏤ the masterpiece he was drawing on the wall.

“Grogu!” You cried, startled.

Grogu simply turned to look at you with his little toothy grin. “See!”

He must have woken from his nap a good while ago because the kid had made quite the progress. The entire wall was decorated in his scribbled drawings in various colors. You spotted multiple pictures of his father and him. You recognized the other colored Mandalorian that filled many of his pictures, with the dark haired person beside him, and a few other familiar faces. Peli. Cara. Karga. Your eyes landed on a scribbled drawing of what looked like you with Grogu in your arms. It was honestly the cutest most precious thing in the world and your heart would be overflowing with love if it wasn’t for the location of the art.

“Oh, Grogu, why?” You breathed.

“Good?” He asked.

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, you drew it all so good, buddy, but…the wall…”

Grogu’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Ih.” He motioned for you to follow him with one hand and you trailed after him into Mando’s bedroom. Grogu pointed to the wall where you had taped a few of his art pieces. “See!”

“Right. But that’s paper that I…” You winced. You held your arms out to scoop the little artist up. He looked immensely proud of himself and you hated the idea of scolding him. “We can’t draw on the walls anymore though, alright?” If Grogu understood or agreed he made no motion to show it. You sighed and tickled the boy’s belly, mumbling under your breath. “I wonder how attached your dad is to his walls.”

Mando’s voice called out from the foyer and you grimaced. The hallway was still decorated in crayon. You had tried to wipe some of it away, but the moment you got near it Grogu whined at you to stop. Apparently he wanted his father to admire the work. You hurried to meet Mando in the foyer before he could get any further.

“Hi there.” You held your hands out to stop him.

“Hey.” He greeted curiously.

You forced a grin that you prayed didn’t look sheepish. “So, how was work?”

“Good…” Mando paused. “How was your day?”

“Uh, interesting.” You scrunched your nose. “We may have had a little…incident.” Mando stiffened and you quickly shook your head and hands at him. “No, no. Grogu is fine. He’s more than fine. Grogu is very proud of himself.”

“Oh.” Mando replied.

“Buir, k’olar! K’olar!” Grogu bounced behind you and waved for him to follow. You motioned to the child with your arms and Mando gave you one last confused tilt of his head before listening to Grogu’s pleads. You walked behind him nervously. When the three of you entered the hall, the mischievous artist pointed to the wall covered in crayon. “See!”

Mando stayed stock still for a second and you blurted a panicked apology, “I am so sorry, Mando. I thought he was napping and I was washing dishes and I heard his little, evil giggle and when I found him he was drawing on the wall⏤ I tried to clean it up but he wouldn't let me⏤”

Your words were interrupted with the sound of a full bellied laugh. Mando was laughing loudly and freely. There had been moments of chuckles and breathy laughs, but this was the first time you had seen him so carefree in front of you. A small smile curled onto your features in admiration. Mando knelt down to hold out his arms so Grogu could jump into them.

“Good?” Grogu asked.

“Very nice, ad’ika.” Mando praised him. “I’ll send a picture to Boba and Fennec. I think they’d really love to see it.” You crossed your arms and watched in amusement as the boy pointed at each piece of the picture to babble to him an explanation. Mando nodded and hummed along⏤ paying full attention. When Grogu had reached the end, Mando ruffled the top of his head. “Alright, womp rat, I saw your toys in the living room still. Why don’t you go clean up?”

Grogu chirped an acknowledgement and waddled away. Mando turned to face you and you shook your head. “I hung some of his pictures up on your bedroom wall and I guess he decided to cut out the middleman and get right to it.”

Mando chuckled. “It’s alright. Of all the messes I expect him to get into this is fairly mild.”

“I am sorry about your wall though. I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

“It’s just a wall.” Mando shrugged. “A boring one too. At least now I don’t have to bother with decorations. Cara always complained my house was too plain.” You laughed lightly. “Besides, you should see some of the things he’s gotten away with while I was actively watching him.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased. “He is a quick one.”

“You have no idea.” Mando sighed. “Over dinner, remind me to tell you about the Frog Lady’s eggs.”

“The what lady’s what?”

mando'a translations

Buir: Parent (father) /// Ad'ika: little one /// K'olar: Come here

tag list:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio

[colleitheglidingchampionofsumeru]

bsd men x gn!reader reader is an artist

Them seeing you draw on their arm

note:please ask me before using my work you don't have to just give me credit I forgot to add how many words there was on one sorry about that it was about 856? Or 854 but yea here we go!

Warnings:cuss words,self-harm scars,self-harm talk (let me know if I missed anything)

Characters:Dazai,Chuuya,Ranpo,Poe,Kunikida,Jouno

word count:806

Dazai Osamu

He had asked you to change his bandages about a week ago you both have been really busy with work and you couldn't but one day you both had a day off and you changed them and he wasn't to happy to see his scars the scars he did to himself self-harm scars you have thought they were beautiful he was looking away and you took your pen and drew on his arm and made something with the scars together than kissed his scars he looked at it and than you and you smiled and said "they are beautiful Dazai" he than said "but- I cut myself and you think that is good?" you shook your head but said "no but they are beautiful" and you changed his other arm and wrapped his arms up in the new bandages he smiled and said nobody will see "I know but still" you said and you kissed his cheek and said I'm going out to get stuff for dinner and left and he went with you

Chuuya Nakahara

it was a boring meeting and you were bored and you felt like you were gonna die Chuuya kept yelling saying "OH FUCK THAT!" or "fucking shit great" and "well we are fucked now you assholes!" You took his arm and drew to cure your boredom and he looked at you than said "what the fuck are you doing" than saw you drawing something on him he than saw when you finished it was like a whole art set this after this something after another after the meet was over he would hide that he liked it you would catch him smiling while looking at his arm his arm was like a child drew on it but it wasn't that bad just looked like a child went crazy

Ranpo Edogawa

He was just eating his snacks in the meeting room and you were in their signing some paper work you could hear Dazai getting yelled at it was funny Ranpo's hat was off and he kept feeding you some of his snacks like some pieces here and there when you were done ranpo was his head up and you took his arm and drew on it I guess he fell asleep because he said who? than saw you and did the biggest gasp you looked at him than showed him he said "my arm looks like it is an canvas" you giggled and said or more asked "do you like it?" He said "I love it!" Than hugged me and than he said "thank you"

Poe Allan Edgar

He was writing a book and Karl was running around the room you were sitting on the floor drawing in your book he bought you with the pens he bought you ended up some how with some weird ass thing draw in the whole book in under 3 hours you got up and played with Karl for about a hour amand than you found yourself drawing on Poe's arm amyou said "Poe look!" He looked at his arm and said "what happened to the notebook?" you picked it up and gave it to him and said finished it he looked so shocked and just said "how did you do that in under 3 hours I bought you it before I got to work" you nodded he said "I'll buy you a bigger and better one tomorrow than love" he than kissed your forehead

Kunikida Doppo

You were supposed to be working but your boredom had other plans you picked up you pen and wrote on Kunikida arm his sleeves were rolled up he was typing in his computer and than he turned his head slowly and said "what are you doing! It's not time to draw on- my- arm?-" you were looking at him and said look he looked at his arm he said "I knew it wasn't a good time to gave my sleeves rolled up-" you giggled and said "oh well" he than got hit in the face by a paper airplane. Kunikida slowly turned his head and looked at Dazai and yelled "I TOLD YOU TO GET TO WORK YOU BASTARD!!!"

Jōno Saigiku

He came home late after a long day at work you made him something to eat and you both talked and you asked him how was his day at work he said "not to good- same thing" you were drawing in your book while he was getting charged into different clothes he sat down next to you and watched as you drew in your book you ending up drawing things on his arm and he didn't look mad he just said "this washes off right?" "So if I have to wash it off a work I can" you nodded and kissed his cheek he ask what kind of things did I draw and you told him

Note:I forgot this guy was blind xD

[ghostboyhood]

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

A boy lays in his bed with headphones on listening to the same song he has been for hours. His eyes are sunken in and he is visibly tired.

The camera pans to the boys face. He sighs, looks directly into the camera, and closes his eyes.

Cut to black.

☆ Name - Ghost / Kurt / Matt

★ Pronouns - He/Him

☆ Sexuality - Queer

★ heyy!! this is mainly a place of whatever my current hyperfixation,, i talk a lot about a lot very incoherently so bear with me..

☆ my dms are open but if you make me uncomfortable ill just block you! i do enjoy talking to people, i just have a rough time starting conversations because i dont want to be annoying.. i also have a very hard time getting my thoughts into coherent sentences.. but dont hesitate to dm or send me an ask !! oh and close moots can ask for my insta <3

★ right now im really into green day and my chemical romance!!! im currently watching white collar !!

☆ i love tv show and movie recommendations,, i cant guarantee ill watch it 100% but i bet ill eventually get to it one day.. i plan on watching succession, the good place, and interview with the vampire sometime.. i also love talking about tv shows/movies with people so Pleaseee talk to me about ur interests or my interests or whatever, i luv listening to ppl infodump!!!

★ some other things im into areee - house md, its always sunny in philadelphia, breaking bad, bobs burgers, good omens, all of john mulaneys specials, velvet goldmine, brokeback mountain, rocky horror picture show, saw (2004), fight club, dead poets society, a quiet place (all three), deadpool (+ wolvie), the outsiders (book mostly), many more movies just ask, life is strange, i plan on beginning detroit become human, dan and phil, danny gonzalez, kurtis conner, drew gooden, markiplier, and a lot of other things i just.. havent written down

@faileddog ^ (mona, joel, and i watching american psycho)

☆ i love love love love music with my whole heart,, i listen to most genres but i go through phases of only listening to specific songs/genres/albums/etc

★ my favorite artist is vundabar!! they have been for years now i love them so much

☆ right now ive been in a slight music rut so ive been listening to the same songs over and over on my main playlist i have..

★ some artists i like include - they might be giants, pure sport, ween, the frights, stephen sanchez, my chemical romance, green day, david bowie, the beatles, nirvana, system of a down, sign crushes motorist/birth day, lord huron, the magnetic fields, alex g, deftones, childish gambino, twist off!, etc etc

☆ if u wanna go listen to any of my playlists ☆

★ hmm what elsee,, im really into punk rock n i go to a lot of punk shows!! concerts are like my favorite thing and ive seen 20+ people live <3

☆ as i said i luv movies, i want to work on movies one day as a cinematographer or maybe even director.. my dream is to make my own movie. i would also like to be a concert photographer because i love photography and yeah!!!

★ ouhh i also love queer history, history in general but mostly queer history.. i love learning about the past and how life was for people.. im mainly intrigued by like the 70s-90s but honestly anything in the 20th century..

☆ i could talk about some of my favorite characters for hours,, i get Really invested in usually one show at a time though so its hard to invest myself in things that arent.. that fixation

★ i dont wanna write down all the guys i like but you'll definitely be able to tell because i wont shut up about them and my reblogs will mostly be them...

☆ credit- @hopelesshardrockfan for my banner

[jqmalikhsgib]

sea view

three

tigger warning: mention of suicide. please do not read if it will trigger you. i want you all to be aware and safe. this is just a filler chapter. just know if you’re ever struggling im here to listen! love each and everyone of you <3

harry would never understand how some men can’t comprehend how women’s bodies are the most magical and beautiful thing in the entire world. the masculine, macho men who think all women should do is cook and clean, it’s insane!

women give so much to men. they literally carry their babies for them for months, nearly an entire year before officially giving birth to them. it’s the most beautiful and selfless thing they could do.

harry’s grateful for his wife! you’ve given birth to three—maybe more in the future—of his babies. he couldn’t ask for a better woman to be by his side.

after giving birth to hayden, harry picked up the slack around the house. he made sure the kids got up for school, made them breakfast, cleaned around the house, even made sure you got as much rest as you needed!

you didn’t understand how lucky you’ve become with a husband like harry. sure, the two of you had shit in the past, but you worked it out and now you’re both doing so well. you’ve heard and read plenty of stories about someone else’s partner not being their for them or helping out when it came to their kids and household duties. you would never understand how one could treat their girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, or wife like that!

sure, harry wasn’t perfect. he’d done some pretty shitty things in his earlier career, but he’s never neglected your children. he’s always been an amazing father. you knew no matter what had happened to you and harry, if you would have gotten a divorce years ago, he’d be there for his babies. for that you loved him!

sure, he’s doing the bare minimum. but you give credit where it’s due because some men don’t do shit!

“hi, hayden! can’t believe you’re already two weeks old. you’re gonna be daddy’s best friend, huh?” harry coos at his son.

he couldn’t get enough of his son being in the world. he loved all his children so much! harry didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t a dad.

“daddy, we’re home!”

“who’s that, baby? is that your big brother and sister? yeah! they’re back from school. let’s go say hi, huh?”

harry heads downstairs. he spots his daughter heading for the cabinet for a small snack while his son sat at the table and started his homework.

“how was school, pay-pay?”

“it was so cool, daddy! misses lane made us draw our favorite things! i drew you on stage.” payton hands her father the drawing.

harry smiles happily. payton was definitely artistic. she could already draw really well for a seven year old.

“this is good, baby! im gonna hang it on the fridge.”

“where’s mamma, daddy?”

“she’s resting, baby. remember what i told you? mamma needs all the rest she can get. she just had your baby brother so she’s gonna be extra tired. did you need something from her?”

payton hums.

“maybe i can help?”

“well, all the kids at my school talk about having two grandmas. mama said grandma rose died when she was young. how’d she die, daddy? mamma never told me.”

harry eyes widened. he didn’t expect her to ask that. he honestly didn’t know if he should answer or wait for you to wake up and tell her. corbin looks at his father with a bit of a sad smile. he knew how difficult it was for you to talk about. it’s one of the reasons why corbin never asked either. he didn’t want to upset you.

payton was still young. she didn’t understand too much. she was getting older nonetheless, it made sense as to why she was curious.

“oh, baby. nana rose, she was an amazing woman to your mama. she just—she was really sick,”

“like the sniffles?”

harry shakes his head. “it was a different kind of sick. you know when you’re sad sometimes?”

“mhm!”

“well, nana rose was sad all the time. it made her really really sick and she—well the bad thoughts she had ended up killing her, baby.”

payton didn’t understand too much. corbin got it right away. he felt really bad for his mom. you were barely six years old when she apparently ended her life. he could only picture a six year old you crying in his grandfathers arms, confused to what happened to your mom. his heart broke for you. corbin wouldn’t know what to do if you ended your life. he’d probably blame himself for a long time. thinking he wasn’t a good son.

“does mamma have photos of grandma?”

“she does! im sure if you ask really really nice she’ll show you, yeah?”

payton hums before pulling out her own homework. harry walked back upstairs to put his son down. he sighs as he thinks about the conversation he’d just had with your seven year old.

“dad?”

harry turns around. he sees corbin give him a sad look.

“why didn’t mom tell me?”

harry grabs his son hand. “she likes to talk about the good memories she had with her mother. talking about how sick she was makes her sad.”

“what—what happened?”

“your nana loved her babies, don’t get confused! your mom talks about how much she adored her six beautiful kids, how she’d read to them at night, make their sandwiches into different kind of shapes, sing to them, dance with them, make them laugh. but she was broken inside. she was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was thirteen. ever since she was in and out the hospital. when she was sixteen she met your grandpa. it was love at first sight! in a way, he helped her a lot, just by being there. her medication was working better, she opened up a lot more to her therapist, she laughed more. she was starting to become herself again. but when she had your uncle ryan, that’s when things turned bad again. she’d now been a mom of four and your grandfather, though a great man, worked pretty much all day and night. this led her to a dark path once more. by the time she had your mom, she’d been in and out of the hospital more times than you could count. she ended up having an accident, she hurt your mom. it was accidental, but this sent her over the edge. your grandmother thought it was best and safer for her and her family to end her life.”

“how’d she hurt mom?”

harry bites his bottom lip.

“you notice that scar on your moms back?”

“the big gash?”

“yeah, your grandma had an episode and cut her pretty deeply. your mom had to undergo surgery and everything. she lost a lot of blood but obviously she survived. it broke your grandmas heart.”

corbin heart breaks even more.

“can i—can i go and hug mom? i know she’s sleep, but—”

“sure kid! go!”

corbin nods before heading to your bedroom. he sees you sitting up with a book in your hand. he goes to hug you tightly.

you were surprised but hugged him back. “what was that for?”

“just love you, mom!”

you smile hugely.

“love you too, kid!

[dominimoonbeam]

Audio Script - M4A - First Tattoo

I wrote this a while ago and would love to put it out there for audio artist to pick up if they're interested but I'm not really sure how to go about that, so we'll start here! <3

I wrote this M4A but if you want to change any of the pronouns you're of course welcome to.

Please give me credit if you decide to record this script, and a link so I can listen too! And, you know, don't put it behind a paywall. But if you want to pay me to make you your own scripts, you're welcome to contact me. <3 <3

Audio artists be warned, I seem to make a lot of background sound notes. Good luck, brave creators! I believe in your sound magic!

2 voiced characters with no interaction. Second speaker is the main character.

tags: confession of sorts, idiots in love, tattoo shop

First Tattoo

by Domini Moonbeam aka Clover Down

[fade in ambient music, muffled voices, the hum of tattoo machines]

You nervous?

Don’t be! I got this. You’re in good hands.

[paper rustle]

This is a great design. You did this yourself?

No? A friend?

Huh… You know this artwork style looks a lot like—

Yeah. You’re a friend of theirs? Roommates? They don’t usually do work like this unless they’re the one putting down the ink…

Alright. I’m just going to transfer this to tracing paper to put on you. Hang tight for a minute.

[curtain]

[waiting]

[muffled other voice] What the fuck? Who’s using my art?

[curtain thrown back]

[second voice, MC, surprised to see the listener and not some stranger stealing their art] Oh… [relief] Roomie. Shit, I thought someone stole my work… You… Wait…

What the hell are you doing here?

No.

You were going to let that jerk tattoo you?

I’m your fucking roommate! We’ve been best friends forever and you finally want to get a tattoo and you went to them?

No, they’re not bad. That’s not the point!

No, it’s really not.

If anyone was going to tattoo you, it should have been me.

[chair sound, sitting down and scooting closer, voice lower]

You didn’t even tell me you wanted to get a tattoo.

A whim? Yeah right. You don’t do anything on a whim.

[paper sound] This isn’t a small tattoo.

What the hell were you going to say when I saw it?

What do you mean I wouldn’t see it?

Oh. I mean… yeah I guess I don’t usually see that part of you…

Wait! You were going to let that bastard work on your side and hip?

Yes, now they’re a bastard.

Because they were going to have you basically stripped down on their table with their hands all over you and my art… my…

Wait… You were getting my art tattooed on you.

[laughs] So what? Are you joking?

I remember drawing this for you…

Yes, I do. I drew this for your birthday that first year we met, right after I moved in.

I didn’t know it was your birthday until that afternoon, so I just drew you something… [awestruck] You really kept this.

That was years ago.

You were really going to get my work tattooed on you?

[listener getting up]

No, hang on. You don’t need to bolt.

[smiling] And where are you even going? We live together.

[listener sitting back down]

Don’t pout. I can’t believe you were trying to get someone else to tattoo my art on you at my own shop.

[laughs] Yeah, yeah, I did say they were the only good artists in town…

Seriously though, why didn’t you just ask me? You know I would have done it in a heartbeat, right?

Of course, I would! I’ve been dropping hints about tattooing you since we met!

[paper sound] I can draw you something new, if you want. Anything you want.

Why not?

Are you…blushing?

Okay. Obviously, I’m just seeing things then.

…Special? [paper sounds, looking at it again] It’s special to you…

[pause]

Do you want me to do it then?

Yeah, of course, I mean it.

I mean, if you really don’t want me to…then I can send them back in.

[huffs a laugh] Yeah, the bastard… I would let them do my art if that’s what you really want. But I’d rather do it myself.

Because it’s mine. Because you’re… You.

Okay? [smiling] Okay. Great.

[putting on gloves] Show me where you want it.

Don’t get shy now…

[clothing rustling as listener takes off their shirt]

[sighs]

What? Nothing. Which side did you want it on?

[touching skin] Here? Down… Okay, stand up and push your pants down your hips.

Yeah, there. I need to clean the area first.

[spray. wiping. laughs] Yeah, it’s cold. Hang on.

[paper sounds. peeling the paper off] Okay, the stencil is on.

Take a look in the mirror real quick and make sure you like the placement.

Yeah?

Great. [pats the padded table] On your side, facing me.

[listener getting settled]

You’re going to be okay. Deep breaths.

[fiddling with equipment]

Okay, I’m going to start with the outline. This isn’t going to feel great, but you can take it.

That being said…if you need a break just let me know, okay? No shame in tapping out.

…Why are you blushing?

No reason… okay.

[machine hum]

Don’t move.

[starts working. background sounds and machine sounds for a bit]

What?

Oh. No, it’s my day off. I don’t have anyone else waiting or anything.

And don’t think I failed to notice how you plotted to come in when I wasn’t here.

Yes, plotted.

Don’t try to change the subject.

I came in because I still had some boring shit to get done after I skipped out early the other night.

[laughs] Yeah, I guess you could say I cut out for a hot date. I was taking you to that movie you had to see on opening night.

Yeah, that shut you up…

Oh, you wouldn’t call that a date?

What the hell would you call it? I picked you up…

Yes, we do live together. That did make it easier.

I bought you dinner.

Popcorn counts when the bucket is bigger than your head.

[machine and background sound stretch while speaker thinks and works]

So…why this one?

This sketch. Why did you decide to get this tattooed?

[laughs a little, focused on the work] Yeah, I did say people usually get something meaningful to them.

You…wanted it to be permanent?

[working]

You know I’m permanent, right?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you want the tattoo. I’m fucking thrilled to put my art on you, and I would gladly give you a dozen more, but you know you don’t need to have something permanent from me, right?

Yeah… People leave. But I’m not going to leave you.

No. You know I don’t say things I don’t mean.

I’m not going anywhere.

[another stretch of machine sounds and background sounds]

Do you mind if I add some freehand or do you want it exactly like the image?

Yeah?

Cool.

You know this is going to take a couple sessions, right?

[laughs] Yeah, some people could sit for the whole thing at once, but you can only sit still for so long.

No, I know you, you only sit this still when you’re scared or flirting…

[realization] And I know you’re not scared of me…

Hm? I’m not saying anything.

But you did hang on to this drawing for three years.

[getting serious] Roomie…

[surprise when listener starts to move] No, seriously, don’t move.

[another pause while the machine hums/background]

[soft spoken] You have no idea what it means to me to put this on you.

Yeah, I’ve done a lot of tattoos, but this is you.

The idea of my work on your skin? Permanently?

That you wanted me permanently with you…

That’s what you’re saying, right?

[happy sigh] Yeah. Yeah, I want that too.

You know, I’d say we need to work on your communication skills but this kind of works for me… Just, you know, don’t ask other people to do the tattooing, next time?

[laughs] No, you’re right, I’m not usually the jealous type but this is different. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.

Because.

Because… It’s you.

Now, hold still or I’m going to screw up your first tattoo.

[fedoraspooky]

Okay Spooky, if you don't mind random questions- what's your favourite Disney movie?

Oh I don't mind at all! I'm actually quite tickled to get one out of the blue like this. nwn

But yes! Answer! Uh, well... Honestly a lot of the ones in the 80s and 90s hold a bit of sentimental value to me due to the fact that my dad worked on them. I would always leave the tape running through the credits until I spotted his name. ;w; In fact, on the DvD for Treasure Planet, if you go to the special features you can actually see him in the making of featurette, where they're asking him about how he sculpted the cyborg parts for John Silver! But, er, yes- favorites!

I would say, it's kind of a toss up between two-

I LOVE The Great Mouse Detective. It encapsulates a lot of stuff I like about that era of Disney, and I do enjoy me a good detective story. The animation is smooth and full of character, and has that rough-lined charm of the xerox era, and the backgrounds? Absolutely gorgeous. The story is fun and full of great comedic moments and also moments that downright terrified me as a kid (That Fidget jumpscare and everything leading up to it still gives me the heebie jeebies). But most of all, I love the characters and the dynamics between all of them, especially whatever Basil and Ratigan have going on. Dear lord. Really not surprising this movie ended up being part of my big list of inspos when writing Kilroy. XD

Second movie- and I know some people don't count it as Disney but to hell with it, it was in kingdom hearts so it darn well counts in my book- The Nightmare Before Christmas. GOD, this movie. When it first came out, I couldn't make it past the opening song because I was scared of the clown with the tearaway face. I shit you not. BUT once I was past that, it quickly became an obsession in my little kid mind. My mom actually showed me a PHOTO she has of me from when I was still in my single digits of age, in which apparently I had taken a black permanent marker to my face to draw rings around my eyes and lines on my mouth so I could look like Jack Skellington. My mom still has it framed in her living room to this day. XD But yes, I sang all the songs, I drew Jack and Sally and Zero all over whatever paper I could get my hands on, and I even made a christmas ornament of Jack's head out of sculpey that we put on the tree every year since. It was probably a huge reason that I became such a huge Halloween and spooky-things lover. And even to this day, it resonates a LOT with me as a movie about someone who is just experiencing the WORST artistic burnout. That's really what this movie is about, I've written a whole-ass essay of a post once rambling about Jack's Lament as a song because of the feels it gave me (i tried to find it but idk if i deleted it during a scare of tumblr copyright striking blogs for music a long while back or if tumblr's blog search function is just poop, either is possible).

Anyway I've talked your ear off long enough, my apologies for the long post but sadly that is what happens when you get me talking about stuff I like. <XD ; Every time I say I won't, but then I become this: