#its not only just with my drawings either. now whenever I see anything that could remind me of them I tweak the fuck out

[imp-thing]

as much as I'm thankful that my selfship with grimoire had gotten me outta my really bad art block its now the ONLY thing I can draw without me wanting to hurl everywhere

[macabresymphonies]

Look, I'm not really on the "Smirk's 14 is back bby" train just yet, but I did notice that Alice of all people has been making some strange jokes all throughout the show so far.

Yes, Alice is like a Family Guy episode, she shoots jokes at mach speed to see if anything lands, but with stuff she's been saying there's seem to be a strange overarching theme of her referencing Entities (or avatars if you prefer). We're not the only one noticing this, Sam very much did too:

TMAGP 06 Sam: Okay firstly, this place is making you really morbid. (...)

I know that she references creepy stuff all around and with Smrik's 14 basically covering each fear on earth we might lean into confirmation bias, but it might be significant in the future so it's better to consider it now than later. With that, let me compile all of Alice's morbid "jokes" so far and how they seem to relate to Fears from TMA:

The Dark

TMAGP 01 Alice: Boooo! Your pathetic addiction to vitamin D will only make you weak.

The Flesh/The Spiral

TMAGP 01 Alice: Listen to me: bones are a lie peddled by Big Milk to keep you buying. No such thing.

The Stranger

TMAGP 01 Alice: Don’t boo me! I created you, and I can destroy you!

The Spiral (specifically mention of molding a person like clay, like in The Great Twisting)

TMAGP 01 Alice: You'll see. Anyway, hurry it up, time to mold you like clay into the perfect government drone for the Office of Incident Assessment and Response.

The Spiral

TMAGP 02 Alice (sardonic): Time isn’t real.

The Spiral (specifically MAG 74: Fatigue)

TMAGP 06 Alice: Have you considered simply bypassing your mouth altogether and injecting the beans directly into your bloodstream? Sam: Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that? Alice: Not enough coffee beans in your blood.

The Dark (very blatantly)

TMAGP 06 Alice: Oh Sam. The sun is the enemy. It rules the world of light but we who dwell in darkness feel only its wrath. Get the curtains.

The Flesh

TMAGP 06 Alice: Then we draw lots and one of you gets eaten at the Christmas party.

The Flesh (again)

TMAGP 06 Alice: “Would you like tea Celia? Coffee perchance? My heart carved from my chest and arranged on a little doily? Please, Celia, cut out my tongue so I can always be there to lick your stamps for you!”

These seem... strangely consistent, whenever she goes her gallows humour bit it's either reference to hating on the sun (light), humorous "I'm baltantly gaslighting you" stuff or reference to eating/getting eaten/cannibalism. Take that as you will, these could be "easter eggs", but they might as well be clues.

[pedgito]

i just saw your post about glasses!eddie munson and whenever you have the time, would you be able to write a cute series of reader finding out about his glasses ITS JUST ADORABLE

author’s note: this was meant to post sooner than now but here it is lol, i finished this pretty quick but got sidetracked. glasses!eddie has invaded my brain and it’s never leaving.

cw: sfw, glasses!eddie, eddie’s not so subtle flirting, acquaintances to friends, once again another fic where everyone bullies eddie (give this man a break), if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Your voice is soft, leaning back toward Eddie, whose eyes are nearly closed from how hard he’s focusing on the board, blindly scribbling something down on the paper. He’s lost on where the voice comes from until you’re in focus, looking back at him with a smile.

Eddie wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t an enemy either. He was the boy who got picked on relentlessly and as much as you wanted to help, you weren’t sure it would change anything. Plus, he didn’t seem that bothered by it—or he was just really good at faking like he wasn’t.

“Oh,” Eddie replies, still confused, “I’ll be fine—Mr. Donahue’s handwriting is always shit, I can barely understand it.”

It wasn’t a total lie, but it was still legible.

“Munson!” The teacher's voice rings from the front of the classroom, “let's stop trying to distract other classmates and focus on our own work, okay?”

And if it wasn’t the condescension in his tone that pissed you off, it was the way he so quickly blamed Eddie for the interaction. He shrinks slightly, sending you an apologetic look.

It happens a few more times that week, catching Eddie glancing at the board as if it’s nearly impossible to see—and maybe he was telling the truth, but it’s also obvious that Donahue hates Eddie for no other apparent reason than just because he thinks he’s up to no good, which isn’t fair to Eddie.

You show up early to class the following week, bag resting in the chair of the desk beside you—Eddie’s usual seat, waiting. He’s always bordering on being late, making it to class as the bell rings, looking more frazzled than the others.

You weren’t sure what he got up to between classes, but he definitely seemed overwhelmed.

“This seat taken?” He asks with a smug smirk, pointing at your backpack. You smile slightly, reaching for it.

“Sorry—I just wanted to make sure I could sit beside you.” You tell him honestly. It throws Eddie off, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly before relaxing, eyes roaming over you curiously. “You said you can’t understand his handwriting, I was gonna let you copy my notes.”

“Can I copy your work too?” Eddie asks jokingly, but you can tell he means it. “I’m barely scraping by with a D in this class.”

You snort out a quiet laugh. “Let’s worry about the notes first.”

Eddie spends most of the class still struggling, forehead creased up as he sifts through your notes, writing things down sparingly. It’s almost like he’s trying not to be mean, focusing a little too hard on one word every now and then as he looks over, your papers perched on the corner of the desk.

“If my writing is horrible you can tell me,” You say, which makes Eddie chuckle, “seriously, I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not that,” He assures you, “it’s just—the angle, it’s a little hard to read them—“

“Oh, well,” You grab the papers in a bunch, extending them toward him, “here, just take them.”

Eddie ignored you, his fingers wrapping around the leg of your desk to pull it flush against his—it’s quick enough that it doesn’t make much noise, only a slight shifting that draws a few eyes.

“Or…that works too.” You say shyly, face heating up at his straightforwardness. “Better?”

He glances over, shifting the papers to his side and gives a subtle nod as his lips pull together in a tight line, “Yeah, actually.”

And it’s almost blissful silence as Eddie copies them down, asking a few questions when your words meld together out of habit when you’re writing too quickly, he still leans in slightly but you don’t pester him on it—eventually Eddie’s actions are noticed, all eyes shifting toward the back of the classroom.

When you look up, everyone is staring back, including the pensive and threatening eyes of your teacher.

Eddie mumbles a soft, “Sorry.” as he pushes your desk back.

“Do I need to remind you two that this isn’t a matchmaking class?”

And it’s a ridiculous comment to make, but it has Eddie scoffing slightly underneath his breath.

“I’m letting him copy my notes,” You say innocently, “is that okay?”

You can’t remember having a problem in any of your classes, either flying under the radar or one of the usual favorites—you’ve never felt this tense, staring down the entirety of the group that was staring right back, though your gaze was focused on Mr. Donahue.

Eddie looks at you briefly before settling his eyes toward the desk, fiddling with pen in his hands to soothe his anxiety.

“If Eddie has a problem, he can come sit up front,” He says coarsely, “I don’t think you have the wiggle room to be socializing, do you?”

And suddenly his gaze on you is forgotten, flicking toward Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t give him the satisfaction, shuffling his shoulders forward in an effort to hide himself, scribbling something random down on the paper in front of him—it’s something he did when was bored or uncomfortable, even, a comfort.

You catch Eddie toward the end of class, gripping his sleeve before he can sneak away.

“How far behind are you?” You ask him, peering up at him curiously. Eddie looks sheepish, glancing away for a moment.

“Uh, I haven’t really taken notes all semester—I kinda just..scribble shit down so it looks like I’m working.”

Your eyes slant down slightly, in an ire of disbelief as your mouth parts, “Eddie, are you serious?”

He shrugs, reaching a hand up to scratch his jaw. You huff through your nose, snatching the pen perched in Eddie’s pocket and uncapping it before shoving it into his hands.

“Give me your address.” You insist, holding out your arm to him. Eddie seems skeptical, fingers wrapping around your arm gently, shifting your sleeve up, “I’m getting you caught up—don’t look at me like that.”

And truly, he’s not sure how to respond. Kindness and niceties weren’t at all familiar, feeling like there was always some ulterior motive. Still, he scribbles down the information with slow strokes, careful that it doesn’t smudge—leaving a small smiley face out of spite, forcing a similar expression onto your own face.

“I’m free after six,” He tells you, “so unless you want to get caught up in awkward conversation with my uncle, wait until then.”

You laugh at that, pulling your sleeve down.

“How else am I supposed to uncover all of your secrets?”

Eddie smirks slightly, eyes averting toward the floor.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know—you just have to ask.”

He spends most of his nights—sans the ones where he’s performing for the small audience at The Hideout or hosting Hellfire meetings—organizing campaigns and writing down random things that come to his mind, feeling the need to get the thought out on paper, even if it’s song lyrics or a drawing.

He adjusts the thin rimmed glasses up his nose, eyes hurting from the strain he’s forced them through all day. He knows he should spend a few minutes resting, even just closing his eyes for a moment, but he can’t help it. Eddie knows it’s his fault, the beginnings of a headache forming as he tries to focus, his finger sneaking up to rub at his eye—he can feel the haziness, willing it away.

But then you’re knocking at his door and every thought is thrown out the window—part of him never expected you to show, his heart thrumming in his chest as he leaps from the bed, tossing the papers away haphazardly and forcing the glasses up into his hair without a thought, pushing his bangs away from his face.

Eddie whips the door open, causing you to startle slightly.

“Hi.” You say wearily, a soft smile on your face.

“Hi,” Eddie responds slightly out of breath, before clearing his throat and offering a smoother, “Hey.”

Your eyes glance up, noticing the difference in his face. His bangs were like a trademark, constantly hiding his eyebrows. You point up curiously, speaking before you can think things through.

“You wear glasses?” You ask, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“No—no uh, of course not.” Eddie responds quickly, adamant in his refusal. “Why would you—“

He’s clearly caught off guard, standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes crossing as he follows your finger, only realizing his mistake when you drag the glasses down slowly, pushing them gently up the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that is definitely an interesting pair of non-existent glasses.” You say jokingly, grinning at his embarrassment, cheeks flushing a deep red.

It’s hard to explain how perfectly they fit his face—like it’s the missing piece that pulls him together. He’s not dressed up like usual, in a faded graphic shirt and gray pair of sweats, no jacket or rings in sight. It’s natural—and it’s in that split second you can see the real Eddie. Not the threatening, menacing Eddie Munson that everyone played him out to be.

Eddie nods wearily, beckoning you inside.

“I won’t tell anyone,” You promise him with a tinge of amusement, rounding on him as he closes the door, shoving the stack of papers at his chest, “—if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Eddie pulls the glasses off of his face, folding them up.

“It’s not that,” Eddie tells you, “—didn’t mean for you to find out about them, it kinda ruins the whole image, you know?”

Image. It makes you laugh to yourself silently.

“You didn’t seem like you were trying to hide them,” You giggled slightly, “besides, I don’t think they ruin anything.”

“I kinda forgot you were coming.” Eddie lies, knowing he had been riddled with nerves since he stepped foot inside of the trailer that evening, not understanding why he was so anxious to begin with.

“Look, I don’t mean to overstep or anything—“ You stop briefly, sighing softly, “but if you need a tutor or even just…some help, I don’t mind.”

Eddie doesn’t really know how to take it, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

“I study with Nancy a lot,” You explain, “it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m a lost cause,” Eddie admits with half-smile, “there’s no saving me.”

“I don’t believe that,” You tell him honestly, approaching him to shove the glasses back toward his chest, his other hand still stuffed full with the papers containing your notes, “—seriously, put them back on and I can spend a couple hours seeing where you’re at.”

Eddie listens, though skeptically, placing the glasses back onto his face—you smile without really thinking, causing him to react similarly.

“It’s okay to let someone be nice to you,” You assure him, “as many assholes as there are at Hawkins, there’s still a few of us who mean well.”

“I can’t be taught, I’m just warning you now.” Eddie remains adamant, leading the way toward his room. You follow behind eagerly, taking in the abstract way of decoration littered around the trailer.

“Fine—you can at least show me your drawings then.”

Eddie looks back at you briefly, a confused grin on his face.

“I’m really observant,” You tease, “and curious.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” Eddie asks.

“I’ve already got one secret to keep,” You respond, teasing him lightly, “what’s one more?”

“How bad is it?” You ask him, staring up expectantly.

“What—oh, my eyes?” Eddie asks, “Uh, kinda bad. It’s okay, though—I manage.”

You crease your eyebrows together, motioning for him to remove the glasses. He does, watching as you reach for a paper, holding it up in front of him.

“Tell me when you can read it clearly.”

Eddie nods, squinting as you move the paper closer and closer, until it’s only a few inches from his face, your eyes widening in shock.

“Eddie,” You stress, “you can’t be serious?”

“I told you I manage,” He argues with a slight laugh, “but it’s bad, I meant that.”

Your expression remains the same, arms falling to your side as you discarded the paper.

“They look weird,” Eddie defends, “that’s why I only wear them at home—I already get enough shit at school anyways.”

“Bullshit,” You say boldly, “they do not look weird.”

Unfortunately, you did see all of the relentless teasing he caught at school, that wasn’t lost on you.

“You don’t have to lie,” Eddie says, “it won’t bother me.”

“I’m not,” You counter, smiling as the glasses returned to his face, his eyelashes touching the lenses, bangs brushing against the rim, “they fit you—they’re…cute.”

Eddie snorts in disbelief, “Okay, enough.”

You smile to yourself, watching as his cheek flushed a faint pink.

“Can I try them on?”

Eddie doesn’t answer outright, pulling them away from his face and handing them over—they’re a little bigger, his more prominent facial structure different from yours and causing the glasses to slide down your nose slightly. You push them up with your finger, squinting at the strain it puts on your eyes.

You can see Eddie smiling over the rim, admiring how perplexed you look in the moment, “Don’t look at me like that,” You say playfully, “these things are really strong.”

Eddie shakes his head, “It’s—nothing, nevermind.” He pulls the glasses from your face gently, placing them back on his own.

And Eddie’s never been shy, but suddenly he can’t force the words out, afraid of the mix of both rejection and embarrassment.

“I like you like this,” You tell him, hoping it eases him, seeing how tense he was—clearly unloved by many, “I mean, I like you both ways but this—it’s nice.”

“You’re the first.” He says flippantly, not aimed at you for any specific reason. He’s not immune to the words thrown at him, they do start to wear on him after time, even if he brushes them off for the most part.

“They’re insane,” You tell him with a surety, “all of them.”

“Careful,” Eddie treads, “Jason would have a fuckin’ field day if he heard you say that.”

You shrug, smugness in your expression.

“He’s terrified of me.”

“Jason—terrified of you?” Eddie asks, begging for more clarification.

“Our parents are friends—I’ve seen…a lot.” You say cryptically, not wanting to dive into details, “I’m not one for blackmail but I’m not totally above it.”

“You’re so interesting,” Eddie speaks candidly.

“I’ll take that was a compliment?” You respond, “Hopefully.”

Eddie nods with a subtle smile.

“Well—like you said,” You start, repeating his earlier sentiment, “I’ll tell you anything, just ask.”

You hold your finger up as his mouth opens—

“But, notes first—secrets later.”

Eddie pushes his glasses up comedically, forcing a quiet laugh from you—it’s the exact reaction he wants. He settles, agreeing with your rules.

“Deal.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[thyln4gf]

505

✞ Once again, Im back with the short little blurbs! This time, theyre rather cute and adorable, and are about some of my favourite drivers, a song assigned for each. (I have synesthesia).

✞ Word count - 2,8k

✞ Drivers included - Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo, Logan Sargeant, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, Sebastian Vettel, Jenson Button.

✞ (P.S. - lemme know if you dont see any of your favs. Im more than happy to write something <3)

Lando Yeswins - 505, arctic monkeys

"No!" Your shriek rings out through the air of the somewhat empty room, quickly followed by both of your giggles, as Lando has launched himself into you, picking you up. The man has missed you so, so much. He didnt even think it was possible. Hed spend his free time with looking at pictures of you, wishing that he could feel that skin against his, and... smell it, really. Now, that he has finally gotten the chance...

Your back makes contact with the couch, Lando still clinging to you tightly, and just plopping on top of you. He buries his face into your chest, drawing a deep breath to take in your scent... But you smelled like... him??

"Baby... have you been living in my clothes?" He asks, amusement laced into his tone. His face was still buried right where his favourite place was, though.

Silence from your end. One awkward chuckle later, you burst into another fit of giggles, followed by the heat that rose to your cheeks. You werent so sure if it was the man making you blush, or him being a damn human radiator doing the trick. Either way, you didnt mind - the golden retriever goofball of a man was excited to close the distance between you two again. A little too excited, even.

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Oscar Leclerc Piastri - teenage dream, katy perry

Him. You. Both of you. A lot of people have called you the dream team, and you have seen a lot of jealous tweets. Posts about your relationship in general - people seemed to be suckers for the childhood friends to lovers trope. So much that you could barely keep track of them anymore.

You have incorporated scrolling through the socials, and hunting for cute memes to annoy him, straight into your routine. His dms from you were filled with various kinds of those, mostly a spectrum of cat memes. Yes, a spectrum. You seemed to be unhinged enough to even ask for fun time alone through those. And, to be honest? They always worked on him. Always.

This time, it was no different - you were curled up on the couch, Oscar laying his head on your stomach, trying to nap. You could be seen scrolling, and... yep. Looking for some memes.

You find something else, though, your heart melting at the sight. You cant even hold the 'awwww' in, as much as you wanted to...

"Huh?" Oscar croaks out, rising from his slumber. All he heard was you making some sort of noise, and he instantly realized that he was about to get a phone right up his face. However... he slowly looks up and sees you... crying?

He doesnt say anything, but scoots up slightly instead, his face landing right by your neck. He looks at the little screen... Only to see a picture of two small children, both in race suits, both giggling on a makeshift podium. He quickly comes to the realisation that hes looking at both of you, at one of your first karting competitions together. And its all it takes to make a tear roll down his cheek as well. A happy tear. Hes quick to start kissing yours away, not even hesitating. Your skin tingled at the gentle contact, and you softly chuckle. Thats exactly what he wanted to achieve. A laugh out of those pretty lips of yours.

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Max Verstappen - im yours sped up, isabel larosa

As tough as this man looked out there, in the face of the cameras... he turned into a whiny puddle whenever he was wrapped in your arms. Something about you made him melt each and every time, making him feel safer than ever. Is that because you usually used rather masculine fragrances and smelled like a dad that he never really had? Maybe, maybe...

He was getting his daily dose of cuddles in. This time it was more of a comfort than it has ever been - he didnt do good, and didnt even finish the race. He felt awful.

"Are you going to leave me now?" You suddenly hear a muffled voice, coming from a certain mans face, currently getting buried into your chest.

"Pardon?" You respond, a confused chuckle following the single-word sentence. He wasnt insecure... as far as you knew.

"I said what i said, Liefje... now answer." the man groans, almost making you chuckle again - he was awfully adorable at the moment.

"No, baby, im yours. For life. Have you forgotten?" your voice reminds him, as you slip one of your hands away from his waist, wiggling the fingers not too far from his eyes. He feels you pulling your hand away, the action making him look up slightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That quickly melts away as he sees the engagement ring on your finger, one that he proposed to you with a few days ago.

"Right... i still havent gotten used to that. Sorry, mijn mooie vrouw." He responds, a small, tired smile slipping onto his lips, and you cant help but give him a small peck. You might be a master at making this man blush, but he had the exact same effect on you as well.

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Daniel Ricciardo - Iris, the goo goo dolls

Evenings spent with him on the porch were your all time favourite, easily - especially if it included watching the sunset. In that case, you had two incredibly gorgeous views to rest your eyes upon. And he definitely knew you were staring at him, instead of the pretty orange colours dancing across the sky - he just pretended not to see.

You two were cuddling on the beach chair - your body in his lap, your back to his chest. Hes currently zoned out just a little, honestly. He has adopted the habit of adoring the pretty clouds from you, and pointing out all the interesting shapes. This time, though, you were quicker than him, and an excited 'ooohhh!' coming from your mouth lets him know exactly that.

"Look! That one looks like a honey badger!" you excitedly blurt out, trying to point at the shape with your finger. He follows, and quickly sees what you wanted to show him. The cloud, indeed, is honey badger shaped. You earn a hearty chuckle and one of his grins that you loved oh so much. Yes, those grins.

His arms tighten around your waist, his lips not being able to resist from leaving a trail of kisses on the back of your neck, eventually landing on the back of your head. And you didnt need much more from him - you knew that it was his way of thanking you. By making you feel all warm and giddy inside.

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

Logan Sargeant - american teenager, ethel cain

Spring has just started rolling around, leaving you to deal with your allergies. Its not like it was something new, or something serious, but it annoyed you nonetheless.

You two had a date that you were looking forward to all week, but suddenly, you felt like you couldnt live two minutes without having to blow your nose. Great. Logan noticed your mood immediately, so he had offered to watch a movie at home instead. You didnt resist much - you wanted to spend some time with your man, after all.

After cuddling up to him on the couch... You silently thanked for the ridiculous misery of your fate - feeling his body right by yours felt way better than spending time outside. Hearing him quietly breathe by you left you almost ecstatic, the warm air brushing by somewhere on your body, and as of the current case, your hair. Speaking of hair - he liked planting those little kisses to the crown of your head whenever you had your back to him. Almost just as much as looking at your backside.

These little moments reminded you just how far you two have come - it sometimes still felt like you were a pair of awkward teenagers, trying desperately to get over yourself to talk to each other. You still tease him about it, honestly - watching the popular guy at the school blush and giggle was the favourite sight of many.

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

Charles Leclerc - k., cigarettes after sex

"Chéri, look! Thats cute, no?" You heard Charles come into the kitchen, cooing at something on his phone. You didnt have the time to turn around and look at him, honestly. So he was forced to come up right behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, his palm softly brushing by your stomach while in the process. You couldnt help but wonder...

1...

2...

Yep, here it is. A gentle kiss to the corner of your jaw. You cant help but chuckle as his lips make contact with your skin, pleasure shooting down your spine almost immediately. He usually stops at one, but he seems to be in a playful mood today - because he doesnt, and continues to trace a line, almost connecting the dots on all your little moles and freckles.

"What is it?" You ask him with a chuckle, trying to distract him. However, you just dont get an answer. Just a phone getting shoved almost right into your face. The video that he wanted to show unpauses, and a scene of a cute puppy running around could be seen. Your heart instantly melts.

Charles seems to notice, because he already looks like a kid on christmas morning.

"Can we... adopt him? I even have a name!" He blurts out excitedly, making you chuckle again. You knew of his passion for dogs... so one wouldnt hurt, right?

You didnt even get to reply before he launched himself into a rant about why getting a dog right now would be a great idea. You just knew that you were going to spend like an hour, just listening to him talk. But you didnt mind - you enjoyed the sound of his voice, and watching the way he speaks with his hands whenever hes excited. It was truly an awfully adorable sight to witness every time.

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Carlos Sainz - good luck, babe!, chappell roan

He had a small ritual of hugging you before his races - he fully, firmly, and truly believed that hes not going to achieve any good results if he doesnt. And, look - it was true, so far. The win in Singapore? In his head, it was all because you initiated a hug that day. His arms had lingered on you for a little longer than they should have been for you two being just friends, but its not like you two minded, at all. You actually craved him and his touch. You craved to feel those hands around you, and to hear his voice murmuring something into your ear. You wanted, no, needed to feel the scent and the warmth of him being so close.

So you never really protested against his idea. In all honesty, it was the most desperate move that someone has ever tried to hit on you with. The most adorable one as well.

If you thought that you were going crazy from him invading every single nook and cranny of your mind... You should have taken a look into his. You and him both knew of the rumours floating around the internet, and all the fans almost straight up telling you two to just make out already. And that has almost happened, and multiple times - one of you always ended up awkwardly pulling away, though. Having him as a friend felt good, but you were sure that having him as a lover would feel like heaven.

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Lewis Hamilton - older, isabel larosa

"Thank you, love." His voice floats through the air of his drivers room, effortlessly reaching your ears, making you blush. Just a little. You had passed him his water bottle - his hands were far too busy with your hips, caressing and squeezing them with great care. His legs were spread a little, you positioned in between them. Yet, it still didnt seem like it was close enough for him - he kept trying to pull you closer, almost desperately tugging on the material of your jeans. A hand of his was now occupied with the water bottle, so he finds that as an opportunity to wrap the other around you fully, bringing you closer, once again. You almost fall over, but you catch yourself with a hand on the wall right besides his head. Helping Lewis train sometimes did help, huh?

"Hey there, easy! I couldve fallen right on top of you!" You had mentioned out loud in mock annoyance, trying hard to keep a chuckle at bay. It was hard to do so, though, because you could see a grin appearing on his lips. No, onto his whole face - the entirety of it would light up whenever he smiled or laughed, melting your heart each and every time.

"Do you prefer to be under me then?" He murmurs as a tease, leaning in to give you a chaste kiss on your neck. He knew that it was one of your ticklish spots - so he had adopted the habit of placing the gentlest kisses of them all right there. They never failed to make you feel flustered and giggly, making sure to spread a blush all over your face. Lewis was just secretly happy that you never seemed to notice his own blush, just like right now.

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Sebastian Vettel - too sweet, hozier

You were sat at your desk in your home office, working late. Again. All sorts of papers were scattered all around you, a pretty decent amount crumpled up and thrown aside as well. At first, youd aim for the trashcan, getting all giddy whenever youd make a shot. But the more time passed, the more you didnt care. You found yourself thinking of the fact that your husband wouldnt be really pleased at your current decision, and you being grateful that hes currently away for a few days. And you just happily continue focusing on your work.

You had focused a little too much, perhaps. Because you didnt hear Sebastian returning home, didnt notice him opening your office door either. You only did that when he spoke up, startling you a decent amount.

"Brought you coffee, schatz." He said, quietly walking to appear by your side, placing the mug down. You smiled at him in appreciation, tilting your head up to look at him. Right as you do so, you get surprised with a forehead kiss. You cant fight the smile that wanted to appear onto your lips, going back to your work. You fully expect Sebastian to protest, to go ahead and try to pull you away from the work. But what does he do instead? He lets his hands meet with your tense shoulders, and gets to gently massaging them, slowly kneading out the knots. No words said. A quiet hum escapes your throat. You two didnt need any words to communicate, really. He understood you on a deeper level, just like you understood him. Isnt it sweet?

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Jenson Button - one of the girls, the weeknd

"Twirl around again?" Jenson requests, making a spinning motion in the air with two of his fingers. You had decided to make him watch your fashion show after the shopping spree of today, just like you usually did. Every time. You thought hed be a little annoyed at you for forcing him to sit down on the couch, basically pushing him backwards right onto it. It was far, far from it - hed even encourage you to go shopping sometimes. 'Honey, its our anniversary next Saturday. Dont you want a new dress?', 'Go get something new, we're going out tomorrow', and 'i think you need to refresh your wardrobe' were phrases that you heard pretty often. And not for the reasons youd think - this man just truly and genuinely enjoyed seeing you smile, and the enthusiasm that would possess your whole being when it came to showing him. You liked to call him a simp, but in his books, that was just being reasonable.

You gladly fulfill his request with a giggle, spinning around to let the skirt of the dress flow around. This one had a great score on both of the 'spinny' and 'shiny' scales, which he learned from you pretty fast. However, he sees you suddenly stop. The surprise on his face is almost as big as yours. However, you quickly gasp and start giggling again, shoving your hands into... some pockets?

"It has pockets!" You excitedly blurt out, turning both of the pockets inside out to show him. That earns a chuckle out of him. You play around with the pockets some more, and start spinning again. As much as Jenson adored your silliness, sometimes. Hed worry about you bumping into things... and it would happen pretty often. But he was always there to baby you, placing gentle kisses around the spot you had just hurt yourself.

[odyssean-flower]

the winding path of fate chapter 13 sneak peak

(this is the second half of the first part. I want to rewrite the first half. tbh i'm thinking of posting the first part of chapter 13 since it is relatively long. ngl i feel like i put too many events in a single chapter sometimes. will put up a poll tomorrow when i finish the rewrites.)

With the new day and the cozy safety of your room, the events of last night seemed like they happened a lifetime ago. The fear had mostly subsided, leaving mortification and regret in its wake, especially as everyone was acting so considerate towards you. Looking back, you had no idea what you were thinking, and you realized once again just how lucky you had been.

Your ankle’s swelling had gone down considerably the next day, but it still hurt whenever you put even the slightest bit of pressure on it, so you spent most of the day in bed, reading books, drawing, or staring out the window at the gray sky. Your knee didn’t hurt quite as much either, but you still had to change the dressing regularly. You weren’t without company, though, as Marie sat with you in your room often, bringing you food and helping you put away your newly bought clothes in your closet. She had been horrified when you came home last night, injured. “Oh, Madame, you should have asked someone to get me!” she had lamented. “The streets at night are no place for a young lady to walk by herself!”

Marie wasn’t the only visitor to your room. The Melusines, including those who hadn’t gone shopping with you, also came to see you throughout the day. You supposed that Neuvillette told them about you, for they all brought you cakes and other desserts as get-well presents (you also suspected that they also reported back to Neuvillette about your condition, for when you mentioned to one Melusine how you would like to drink some Fonta, your wish was granted by the next Melusine who visited. However, she also heartily recommended that you drink water from Snezhnaya instead, which held a coolness that was good against swelling, and if you wished, you could ask Marie to fetch a bottle of it for you from Monsieur Neuvillette’s personal stash. She also added that you need not hesitate to ask, as he had more than one bottle. Perhaps all Melusines shared his specific tastes in water, but you didn’t quite believe that was the case).

Rhemia and the other Melusines who had been with you yesterday had been the most distressed upon seeing you bedridden. “I’ll stick to you like glue from now on, Madame! No criminal will escape my sights!” Rhemia had declared, and her sisters nodded vigorously in agreement.

“There really is no need for that,” you tried to decline her offer. Privately, you thought that there wasn’t much a Melusine could do against muggers anyways. “The whole incident only happened because I was careless and in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll be much more careful next time, so I doubt it will happen again. Just because I’m Neuvillette’s wife, it doesn’t mean that I deserve special treatment or anything of the sort. And if he put you up to this, then—”

Rhemia blinked at you in confusion. “But this has nothing to do with Monsieur Neuvillette. Not entirely, anyways.”

“It doesn’t?” Now you were confused.

“Nope! I’d do this for all the people important to me! Oh, but I guess you’re more than that, since you’re married to Monsieur Neuvillette! That would make you our mother, I suppose.”

“Um…” There was the m-word again. You considered correcting Rhemia, but she continued on, seemingly not noticing your discomfort.

“You’re always so kind and patient with us, just like Monsieur Neuvillette. You greet us whenever you see us, and you always ask us about our days and listen to our troubles. Oh, and Madame, you’re such a good teacher too! I’ve gotten so much better at drawing humans thanks to your lessons!” Rhemia turned to her friends. “Am I right?”

Her friends nodded enthusiastically. They began recounting all the times you’ve spent with them.

“I’m glad to hear that you all think of me as your friend,” you said after they finished, a little embarrassed but also pleased. You hadn’t expected them to remember so much about you. But you felt a little guilty as well. At first, you decided to become friendly with the Melusines because everyone knew that Neuvillette treasured them greatly and you wanted to be in his good graces so that he wouldn’t have any reason to kick you out. They had always been the ones to come up to you first, especially in the first few weeks after your marriage, and while you didn’t consider yourself to be a particularly friendly and warm person, even you weren’t heartless enough to be cold to such a cheerful race of creatures.

“It’s not just us! I’m sure all the Melusines in the Court of Fontaine feel the same way. You’re just as important to us as Monsieur Neuvillette.”

“Oh…” Looking at their bright, earnest faces, you didn’t know what to say. Your eyes suddenly became misty. Before this marriage, you hadn’t really given much mind to Melusines. They were just the public servants you would occasionally pass by on the street. But now that you were connected to them through Neuvillette, you were belatedly learning just how wonderful they were.

“Thank you,” you said at last, patting each of them on the head. Your hand still stung a little from last night, but you ignored it. “It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me. Truly. Still, you don’t need to follow me around. If I ever need help, I promise that I will come straight to you. And…I hope that you would all come to the sunflower viewing party we’re holding here next month.”

“Of course, Madame! We wouldn’t miss it for anything!” the Melusines chirped in unison.

By evening, the deluge of visitors had finally ended. You sank into your pillows, feeling exhausted. You weren’t used to having so many people fuss over you. It was unfamiliar territory, one that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate.

Still, as you gazed at the teetering pile of confectionary boxes covered in Melusine stickers on your bedside table and remembered all the get-well wishes you received, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. How did I get so lucky? You wondered. Perhaps even after I leave Neuvillette, we can still be friends…

As you were lost in your thoughts, Marie came into your room again.

“Oh, Madame, I completely forgot to give you this because of everything that happened yesterday. It appears to be from your family.”

Marie handed you an envelope made of thick, creamy paper. You recognized the stationery as the kind used by your father for formal correspondences, and the address written in familiar, flowery cursive on the front was indeed that of your family’s house.

“Ah, that would be from my sister,” you said, tearing the envelope open and taking out the contents. The enveloped contained two cards made of similarly thick paper. They both had an elaborately drawn border of Lumidouce Bells and Rainbow Roses and had an invitation written in the center. This was new.

You are cordially invited

To a celebration

Honoring

Justine’s nineteenth birthday

Semi-formal attire requested (Floral themed outfits are preferred)

P.S. Sister, please tell me if Monsieur Neuvillette has any allergies or requires any accommodations!

“Ugh…” you groaned, putting your palm over your face. “I still haven’t gotten her a present yet!”

That had been the cause of this trouble in the first place, and yet you hadn’t even accomplished your goal in the end.

While we’re on this topic, shouldn’t she have sent the invitations much earlier if she wanted people to RSVP? It’s just like her to do things last minute! And why is she acting like it’s already decided that Neuvillette’s coming?

“Marie, could you please fetch me my pen and paper?” you asked the housekeeper. After you received them, you began to write a reply to tell Justine that while you were coming, Neuvillette definitely wasn’t. But just as you got to that last part, you paused. The idea of the Chief Justice attending a teenage girl’s birthday party all the way out in the countryside was absurd, of course. You tried to picture him sitting at your family’s worn dining table, singing “Happy Birthday” eating the butterscotch cake your housekeeper always made for birthdays, all the while fending off the barrage of questions from your family and friends. I can’t imagine it! It’s just too ridiculous!

It would be better if he didn’t have too much contact with your family, in order to avoid them asking too many questions, and to make the eventual divorce go smoothly.

He rarely even attended the far more glamorous functions of high society, so something like this would be out of the question. His answer would go without asking.

Or would it?

You didn’t really know why you were entertaining the idea. Perhaps being with Neuvillette these past few months had greatly inflated your sense of self-importance—but then again, you thought that the two of you had gotten close enough where asking him wouldn’t be so preposterous. You were friends, and wouldn’t it be ruder to not at least extend an invitation to a friend? Wasn’t the act of asking in itself greatly appreciated?

And…there was a little part of you that would like to show him around your hometown. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and all you could see for miles around were fields of wildflowers and mountains—a common sight in Fontaine—but there were a few spots that you had fond memories of. Since Neuvillette showed you his favorite places, it was only right to repay the favor, even if none of your favorite spots were as exciting as the giant willow tree or Merusea Village.

Recent events, including the latest incident, had taught you the folly of making assumptions, even for seemingly inconsequential things like this. Just because you thought

The worst thing he could say is no, you reasoned to yourself. And it’s not the end of the world if he does. Sure, Justine will be disappointed, but everyone knows how busy and reclusive Neuvillette is, so she’ll understand if he declines.

As if on cue, you heard the front door open downstairs. Neuvillette had returned home. After a brief conversation with Marie, the sound of his heels briskly ascending the stairs and heading in the direction of your room until it stopped in front of your door. There was a soft knock.

“Madame, may I come in?”

“Yes,” you called out, and Neuvillette opened the door and stepped inside your room. He was about to close the door behind him, but then he looked at you. A thought seemed to cross his mind, and he left the door ajar.

Um, why is he just standing there? You stared at him, confused when he didn’t take a seat right away. He simply stared at you, his gaze a mix of worry, uncertainty, and something else. For a second, you wondered if he was that caught off guard by your dishevelled appearance that was a result of staying in bed all day. It took you a minute to realize that he was waiting for you to ask him to sit down. Really, this man… I thought we’re past such formalities.

“You can pull up a chair,” you said, nodding towards the cushioned chairs in the center of the room. He complied, clasping his hands in his lap after settling in his seat and leaning towards you slightly. He stared at you intently, as if afraid that you would disappear before his eyes. You squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing only your rumpled nightgown and that you were lying in bed. You surreptitiously pulled your covers up to your chest.

Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever had a man who isn’t my father in my room, you mused, though you were also aware that this wasn’t really the occasion to think about such things. Well, I guess it technically isn’t the first time, since he carried me back here when I fell asleep in his study that one time. First time that I was conscious, then.

Thankfully, Neuvillette broke the silence and (once again) prevented your thoughts from going in strange directions.

“The robbers will be tried in court shortly,” he said. “It will be a short, simple trial, considering the number of witnesses at the scene. I will not be presiding over it, however.”

“I see,” you nodded. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

Despite that, his brow remained creased with worry. “How are you feeling, Madame? Should I take you to the hospital after all?” he asked.

“No, that really won’t be necessary,” you shook your head vigorously. “It’s only a bad sprain. I’ll probably be able to walk again tomorrow.”

“It is highly unwise to rush your recovery. What will happen if you worsen your injury? The meeting with Furina can be postponed—”

“Don’t postpone it,” you said, leaning over to grab his sleeve and stared into his eyes. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I’ll drag myself up the steps of the Palais if I have to.”

Neuvillette looked like he wanted to argue, but he swallowed back whatever he was going to say. “There’s no need to exert yourself in such a way,” he said at last. “I would be happy to carry you into my office, if you should ask.”

“Carry me into your office, huh?” you leaned back against your pillow with a smile. You sometimes wondered if Neuvillette realized how unintentionally funny he could be. “Wouldn’t that give people the wrong idea?”

“You do have a point. Then, I propose that we arrive at my office early in the morning, before the Palais employees come into work.”

“How about instead of carrying me, I borrow your cane?”

Neuvillette seemed to be pondering your words seriously. “But that would also run into the problem of rousing people’s suspicions. Someone might wonder why my cane is in your possession.”

You turned your head away to smother your laugh.

“It seems that the Melusines have made their visits,” Neuvillette said, looking at the tower of boxes on your bedside table.

“Yes, they were all very sweet. Although, I’m not sure how they expect me to eat all these…” You liked dessert and all, but not to this extent. Perhaps you could bring some of them back home with you to share with your family and friends.

“Clorinde also asked me to pass on her well wishes to you. She was very sorry to hear what happened.”

“I see. Please thank her for me, and tell her not to blame herself for my foolishness.”

“I will do that,” Neuvillette nodded, then was silent for a moment. His solemn gaze as he looked at you made it seem like you were diagnosed with some terminal illness rather than merely spraining your ankle badly and hitting your knee against the ground.

“Neuvillette?” you called out his name in hopes of getting rid of that grave look in his eyes. It made your chest feel heavy.

“Ah, by the way, I consulted with a friend of mine about your injury. She made this drink for you,” Neuvillette brandished a green, ridiculously adorable cup from out of nowhere. It reminded of you of the cups toddlers drank juice out of. “She says that it will help your body recover quicker.”

“A friend of yours?” you repeated, your interest piqued. While Neuvillette would happily talk to you about the Melusines for hours on end and occasionally talk about his (human) acquaintances, you had never heard him call anyone his friend before.

“Yes. She is the head nurse the Fortress of Meropide’s infirmary, and one of the kindest and considerate people I know. I hope the two of you can meet one day.”

“That’s high praise coming from you,” you said, making a mental note of this mysterious friend. “Why don’t we invite her to the sunflower viewing as well?”

“What a wonderful idea. I shall do just that,” he said, then held out the cup to you. “Now, Madame, you should drink this.”

“Alright,” you took a sip of the drink and nearly spat it out. “Bleakness” was the only way to describe the taste. It almost made you want to get out of bed and walk so that the pain could distract you from the torture of your tastebuds. For a heartbeat, you wondered if Neuvillette was trying to poison you. “A-Are you sure this is h-healthy?”

“Of course,” Neuvillette said, looking baffled by your question. “I’ve drank it on numerous occasions, and I’ve always found myself quite refreshed and invigorated afterwards. I asked Sigewinne to make it taste more palatable for you, as I’m aware that her concoctions are not for everyone. She truly hopes it makes you feel better.”

This is palatable? You thought. Did I do something to this Sigewinne person? Whoever she was, she shared the same incomprehensible sense of taste as Neuvillette.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he was looking at you expectantly. Oh Archons, is he expecting me to finish it in front of him? Just as you were trying to come up with an excuse to not drink it, those efforts were dashed by his next words. “Is it not to your liking?” he said quietly. You were vaguely aware that it had started raining outside.

“I…um…” you didn’t know what to say or where to look. You suddenly had the impression that a large puppy was at your bedside, staring at you with sad eyes. Gah, he must be doing this on purpose! Either that, or he must really be fond of that friend of his. “Well, when it comes to medicine, it’s not really a matter of liking it or not liking it, right? A-And since you’ve gone to the trouble of asking your friend to make this for me, it would be rude of me to not drink it, right?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself.

“If you do not like it, then you do not need to force yourself—”

“No, no, I mean, I’ve taken plenty of bitter medicine when I was little, and I survived. This will be no different,” you brought the straw up to your mouth and held your breath. Let’s just get this over quickly, you thought, then emptied the cup in one go. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to drink. However, the lumpy texture was still a struggle to swallow. You felt as though you had just eaten concrete.

“That was…certainly something I’ve never drank before,” you managed, flopping back onto your pillows to recover. You opened a box of lemon tarts and shoved one into your mouth to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you wanted to drink some Fonta instead, but decided that it might be a bit uncouth. Of course, some might say that it was unladylike to eat cake in bed in the first place, but you doubted those people ever had the misfortune of having to drink that so-called “healthy drink.” “Please thank your friend for me.”

Neuvillette nodded, watching you as you ate a second, then a third tart. Lemon wasn’t your favorite flavor, but anything would do right now. YYou offered one to him, but he politely declined. His gaze dropped to the papers in your lap. “…Were you writing a letter to someone?” he asked.

“Oh!” you had almost forgotten about that. “My sister Justine sent us invitations to her birthday party. It’s a bit short notice, but it’s in a few days.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard you mention it before,” Neuvillette took a pause, as if he had only just taken in the entirety of your words. “Did you say ‘invitations’?”

“Yes,” you nodded. Your hands suddenly felt sweaty. What were you so nervous about? “Since we’re, you know, husband and wife, it’s only natural that invitations would be sent to the both of us. Funny thing is, Justine thinks you’re already coming and has asked me if you require any accommodations, but of course you haven’t given any answer as to whether or not you’ll be attending the party. I-I know that you usually don’t attend public functions, but birthdays parties in our party don’t tend to be very extravagant affairs. It’s usually just a small gathering of close friends and relatives. We can even make everyone sign a contract of confidentiality, if you want. You don’t have to bring any gifts either. I think your presence will be a gift in itself for my sister, haha…”

Oh no, I’m rambling again…why do I keep doing this in front of him? You toyed with the edge of your comforter, suddenly too nervous to look at his expression. Would there be a look of disgust there? Why would there be? Your brain argued back. You haven’t asked anything offensive!

Finally, you dared to sneak a peek. He was staring at your face, as though scrutinizing it for answers to a difficult question.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, thinking that he must be trying to find a way to let you down gently.

“…Do you want me to attend?” he said at last.

You hadn’t expected that question. “What do you mean?” you frowned.

“What I mean is…would it please you—would it make you happy if I attended your sister’s party?”

Ah, so the answer is no, then, you thought. That was expected.

“Well, it’s not my party, so my opinion doesn’t matter,” you said slowly. “Justine would like for you to come, but there is no obligation on your part to say yes. If you like, I can make up some excuse about your absence to tell everyone.”

“But your opinion does matter quite a lot to me,” Neuvillette said. He was oddly insistent about this. “I would like to hear what you think.”

“As I said, it’s not my party. It will not affect me one way or another should you choose to come or not,” Realizing that you might be sounding too harsh, you softened your next words. “It’s okay to say no. I’m sure everyone will understand if you can’t come.”

Neuvillette stared at you for a long while, his eyes unreadable. You could hear the rain pounding against your window, and you turned your head to it. The sky was a dark, leaden gray. It’s been raining pretty frequently these days, hasn’t it? You thought distantly.

“Unfortunately, I have a trial to oversee on that day,” he said. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him clench and unclench his fists. You wondered why he didn’t mention the trial earlier. “I do not think it would be wise for me to attend, in any case. It would be a needless distraction.”

“Alright then. I’ll tell my sister you can’t attend,” you said lightly, then turned your attention to your unfinished letter. You picked up your pen and began to write. Focusing your mind on producing the words helped distract from the tumult of emotions within you—emotions that you didn’t know quite what to make of. Was it relief you felt, or disappointment? Relief for what? Disappointment about what? You couldn’t tell at all.

In any case, it’s over and done with, you told yourself firmly, signing the letter with a flourish. Maybe too big of a flourish. I’ll post this first thing in the morning—that is, if I can walk by then.

You glanced up to see Neuvillette still sitting there. He was drinking from his cup, but he was watching you over the rim. You had long gotten used to him studying you like you were some kind of strange specimen, but it was still awkward, especially in this silence. Your room, which had always felt needlessly spacious to you, suddenly felt very small.

Just as you were debating whether or not to fake a sleepy yawn and ask him to leave, he spoke again.

“You haven’t yet bought a birthday present for your sister, yes?”

“That’s right,” you replied, wondering what he was getting at.

“I won’t have any time tomorrow, but I do have an hour or two to spare after our meeting with Furina. We shall go pick out a present together then.”

You gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

“Why would I not be? It is customary for married couples to give presents as a pair, is it not?”

“I…suppose so,” you said. Neuvillette was so hard to grasp sometimes. Sometimes, he was clear as a fresh water spring. Other times, like now, you had the sense that you were staring into the sea, unable to see all the way to its bottom.

“Then it is settled,” he said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, then leaned forward and cupped your cheek. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have a chance to react. “W-Wha…” was all you could manage to stammer out. There was only a millimeter of space between your faces. Your heart sped up a little when his gaze moved to your lips. His thumb moved to the corner of your lip and brushed against it. It took you a moment to realize that he had flicked off a cake crumb.

“I still have some work to finish, so I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave now,” he informed you, removing his hand from your cheek. Despite that, you could still feel the smooth silk of his glove and the latent strength in his long fingers. “Please rest and get well soon, Madame.”

You could only nod as you gazed up at him. He stared into your eyes for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving your room. It was only when you heard his footsteps recede to the other side of the house that you realized that it was no longer raining.

[vixthefantheorist]

Lore Clues! Or well... *clue* more like it

Wow, I have... not really opened up tumblr to do much of anything, let alone post any stuff in a good long while. So... uh... hi! How's it going fellow theorists? Missed making theories and posting them. I have read the comics of Altrverse but right now it's a jumbled mess in my head about it. We went from basically zero information on Marvin and Jackie to quite an overwhelming amount of it with, of course, questions still rearing from them. And I'm looking at all the strings and wondering where the hell to start with them. But today, tonight (whenever I post this thing), we're not talking about these two.

No, today for however long I can keep talking about this is our good lovable boi, JJ.

Because... THIS from @turquoisemagpie (lovely artwork as always!) has a clue in here~ (thanks to @septicuniverse for sharing this with me and the comics!)

There's probably other clues in other artwork before, I'm not sure, this was only brought to my attention like... an hour ago? So yeah. Good ol' JJ, we miss you buddy. BUT can you see the clue? If the answer is

These badges, then you are correct, friend!

These are in fact IRIS badges! On uniforms. That JJ is making, I guess? Is he really making these? Because I can see the little puppets at the bottom of the artwork, so making tiny matching uniforms for them? Or are they using his sewing skills with making clothes for the puppets of his shows to make the uniforms for IRIS? Which then begs the question... does JJ work for IRIS or is he creating it? Or at least helping in creating the company if he is making the IRIS uniforms? I mean IRIS got its start LONG ago. (Since how can we forget that IRIS's science is keeping chicken dinners so fresh it still clucks!)

There are other questions I have about the piece that I haven't... quite asked myself yet. Like, why is the door cracked open like that? For the lighting maybe? Can't exactly sew in the dark, but then what closet wouldn't have it's down light source? Because the room is pretty well lit, so why have the door there open like that? And the wall in the hallway (if it is a hallway) seems similar to the walls of the facility Chase was brought to in AF:CB but... having looked at the video for a quick assessment, those walls don't have tiles like that. So not the same building exactly... but then again we are talking about timelines so -shrug-. But there is one other thing that has bothered me about this art piece, not in a bad way but more of curious. I am well aware this could be absolutely nothing and I'm overthinking it from having just read the new issue of the comics today with a friend, that I'm just super excited for things.

But, does anyone else... notice these lines?

They're outlines of the tops of the tables.

Again, I'm aware that these could just be leftover sketch lines from the drawing process before outlining the piece to color and thus means absolutely nothing. I just... I just can't help but notice... how crisp they are. Like they were outlined but faded out to make them transparent, but still visible enough to see it clearly. Even zoomed out I can still seem them, so that's why I don't know if it was intentional to be that noticeable or it really is just leftovers. I just thought it was very interesting to see them so had to point them out. And no, this isn't a jab at Magpie's artwork, I have nothing but awe, love and respect for them. Because holy hell, just look at this skill! So for fun, even if the lines have no meaning whatsoever, kinda wanted to say that with the lines there, makes the room feel unstable temporally and with the table in the back behind JJ, makes feel like he's a ghost or fading in and out of Time. lol Dunno if it is him or just the closet being funky with Time. Either way its cool.

[cdmagic1408]

Hey peeps, Quest Masters, followers, and all!

I know I've been gone for like...a YEAR. Life's been super crazy, you have NO idea. But not gonna get into all that. Just gonna say I’ve been good, been healing, then really good, happy, and off social media (it’s never really been my thing, so…) 😄

But I promise you I'm not dead! Rather, I've come back from the dead to say that I looked at today's date and just so happened to realize— OMG! It has been exactly three years since I published the first chapter of my Onward fan-novel, If You Trust Me! Wow!

I have found myself in other fandoms as an observer in this last year (maybe I’ll share what they are someday, but not yet), but first, I just wanna say that Onward is still my favorite Pixar film AND my favorite film ever, that hasn’t changed. I still think about it everyday and love it very much. But yeah, I have moved on to other things these days…

Second, and most importantly— I have decided that today, on the anniversary of IYTM’s publishing phase, I wanted to make a very teeny tiny adjustment to its title…

I have always called it, If You Trust Me - An Onward Fanfiction. But in the now-three years since I first shared this story with you all, I’ve come to realize that it really is much more than just a fanfiction—it’s a fan-NOVEL. 33 chapters, plus a prologue and a mid-credits scene. A year and a half to write. A story I wanted to make as authentic as possible to the world of Onward we know and love. It is no mere fanfic.

That said, I hereby rename the long title of this story to If You Trust Me - An Onward Fan-Novel! And to my fellow QMs, if any of you are still out there and reading this, I have you all to thank for it. You guys were the first to really call it a "fan-novel" in the first place, and now in official type, it IS a fan-novel! I know we’ve all kinda moved on and everything, but seeing as it's been a while, I just wanna take the time to thank you all for being there for me in the Onward era of my life. You know who you are. Whenever I look back on all the times we had together, I think of only the good times. There were many good, if not great, things we did and accomplished together as a fellowship and I'll never forget that. As rough as life is and as strange as this world is and will continue to be, I can confidently say now that after taking some time, I only see the good in what we experienced in the end ❤️‍🔥

Lastly, there really aren’t enough words or thanks I can give to show how grateful I am of this fan-novel. Writing it, publishing it, having it read, shared, liked, and all that. I haven’t forgotten about that either.

I am still very proud of this story, and always will be. It helped me grow as a writer, and it was something I wanted to do for myself and for all Quest Masters/Onward fans out there. So to put it simply, thank you. And if there’s anyone who hasn’t read it yet and would like to, by all means! Trust me (no pun intended) when I say that it is a LOT better than all of the incest fics combined. If You Trust Me is a story for anyone who absolutely loves the world of Onward and is looking for something that totally feels like it! ✨

I guess the very last thing I’ll say is, I am well aware that this coming March, Onward will be turning 5 (AHHHHHH! I was Barley’s age (19) when this first came out, whaaaaaaaaaaat) and since that is a big year, I might want to do something special for that. I’m not sure what it will be yet, but I believe I could do something. A long in-hindsight written reflection perhaps? Or an ensemble cast drawing? Both? I haven’t decided yet.

But yeah, that’s it from me for now. I am not planning on posting anything more later, tomorrow, or anytime soon. This isn’t an “I’m back and here to stay” post necessarily. More like a “hello, it’s been a while, but I’m doing well and I just wanted to let you all know that, plus it's an anniversary” post 😊 That’s all folks!

[ryuichirou]

 Replies

A lot of replies today! About recent drawings/posts and about some other stuff as well.

Anonymous asked:

You should check your inbox for nebulacollege, I sent a gift 😘

Sorry for the late reply, Anon! As Katsu already said, we didn’t really have an opportunity to reply properly before, but we saw your gift right away. It’s so wonderful, and we are so grateful!!

Nebula technically had its first birthday recently, so your timing is kind of perfect. It’s insane to think that not so long ago I struggled to come up with a way to draw Edmund that would fit the vibe Katsu is going for, and now we’re seeing your amazing fanart of him. It looks so good, both the idea and the drawing itself.

Thank you so much, once again.

unofficialwheatdog asked:

I had this dream this morning that you and Kat joined the Trolls and the Bee Movie fandom, so there was art of a bee and a human getting it on and trolls

I woke up in a cold sweat if you couldn't tell btw

Honestly I would say that this is a hilarious dream and that you shouldn’t worry about it, but it sounds like something we would 100% do. I am now kind of terrified that we’ll watch the Bee Movie and start shipping a bee and a human but unironically.

But I shouldn’t be worried either, I don’t see that happening anytime soon. We did however rewatch some episodes of Angry Beavers and are currently kind of into Norbert/Daggett ……………..

Anyways! Thank you for dreaming about it?? 😭💕

Anonymous asked:

THANK YOU FOR THE TREYVIL! Oh gosh that was so good! Vil's look towards Trey~ very lovely! Proud of  "Normal Guy™" Trey managing to get a Supermodel like Vil. 💚

HEHE YOU’RE WELCOME! I’m glad you like it, thank you!

I’ll be honest, I didn’t fully get Trey’s popularity at first, but for some reason I kind of get it now. The juxtaposition of the "Normal Guy™" and gorgeous supermodel Vil who isn’t desperate, but still openly flirty with him, it’s kind of…. Very nice.

Anonymous asked:

That look Vil gave…..GOD. Probably best not to say what’s going through my head.

It’s okay, Anon, I feel you…. wink

I’m glad I managed to draw it in a way that makes you ~feel~ things hehe.

Anonymous asked:

Hey vil, what else can those beautiful legs do? What time do they open? 🥵🥵

I think Vil can easily do an entire clock hands rotation with his legs… Vil being stupidly flexible is my agenda and I will keep repeating it. He is going to put his legs behind his head if he needs to.

thestarlightfae asked:

Wait, now I want to try that. Not in a sexual way (aroace), but in an am-I-flexible-enough way.

I believe in you! I know you can do it! <3

Anonymous asked:

What kind of porn would Rollo, Fellow and Gidel watch?

(related to this post), maybe I’ll edit the post and add those there…

Rollo doesn’t watch porn, come on now. The only type of smut he experiences is the kind that his own mind plays in his head when he sleeps. And Rollo really wishes he could turn it off! But he can’t, so for now he’s just having weird wet dreams about faceless men in red cloaks judging him….

Fellow doesn’t really care about porn all that much because his life is already so full of sex, but he doesn’t necessarily have access to a lot of porn either. He used to flip through magazines with some hunks on them, but hasn’t done it in quite a while.

Gidel, however, loves his dirty magazines! I’ve said it in some other hc post: a magazine with beast-ladies in tiny bikinies is an ultimate gift for him. He steals those from shops, he takes the ones that are randomly abandoned at gas stations. Whenever they are lucky enough to stay at a motel with a tv, the first thing Gidel does is turning on the TV to see if there are porn channels available for free. He doesn’t even do anything while watching it, he’s just fascinated by smut. I guess it’s a phase… or is it?

Anonymous asked:

IS Idia a masochist?

He IS…. And he isn’t. I guess to a degree.

Idia feels like someone who would be genuinely uncomfortable and even whiny when it comes to physical pain and discomfort, but at the same time… there are some kinds of pain and discomfort that he would find weirdly pleasing and tickling. Starting with something not so drastic, like hair pulling and butt smacking. I think he has potential to blossom as a gorgeous masochist. I think he is highly trainable. 🤔

He also strikes me as someone who craves for a punishment somewhere deep down, so it’s also a big factor.

Anonymous asked:

Lilia making Silver watch porn with him is super hot actually?? Especially when Silver is so shy about it and doesn't really enjoy watching it that much, still being pressured to keep watching with him omg

(related to this post)

Hehehe thank you Anon!! I thought so too, as you can see lol

Silver doesn’t feel awkward all that often, especially with Lilia, but that time really felt weird… a good kind of weird. 😳

Anonymous asked:

I regret to inform you, it's highly likely that antis are that dumb.

Saw a hot take that was "it's wrong to sexualize the TWST minors even if you're their age!!!"

Oh no, puberty makes some high schoolers horny, who'd have thought.  A 17 y.o. not being the same as a 7 y.o. is a novel thought to them; they'd have never lasted in my hs.

And a non anti one, but evidence that some people aren't too bright: the amount of people saying Ace is an irredeemable monster, a sociopath who wouldn't care if You died, a fuckboy who'll never have a serious relationship, ect. because he's slightly mean and committed the unforgivable crime of ghosting his ex-gf in middle school.

And the amount of people wishing harm or death on proshippers just for that, I have to believe, for my own piece of mind, that they're not fully aware of what they're saying cause otherwise it's a scary thought.

(related to this post)

Yeah, unfortunately that’s not surprising. When people do nothing but try to find ways to police other people’s enjoyment of certain characters + marinate in these ideas all the time, their takes become almost alarming. They’re obsessed with numbers (fictional that have zero relevance to real life) and the idea of purity, it always boils down to sex = bad. And “sex = bad” is a very useful thing to both gatekeep characters (“you can’t sexualize them, I can”) and trying to assert authority on a group of people that has nothing to do with you.

The Ace take is hilarious. Imaging judging someone for ghosting a person when they were like 14-15, especially when it’s just one fictional guy. I also find it funny that technically one could read it as “Ace realised that he is not into girls and dipped; it’s not right for him to hurt her feelings, and this reaction from Ace is pretty normal for a guy who is figuring shit out”. But instead of this or any other kind of more nuanced reading they went with “Ace is a monster”. Ace is a teenager, and a well-written one at that, it just happens that the majority of teenagers are either nasty fuckers or socially awkward maximalists, or both.

Anonymous asked:

Ace’s method of flirting reminds me of the song Nice Guys by nigahiga

(referring to this post)

«And if you ever get cold, you'll just have to hack it, 'Cause I'd be cold too if I gave you my jacket» is the most Ace Trappola line in the world….

Anonymous asked:

I thought this was funny but idk if you'll think so.  Just this week I started a side blog for venting/discourse because I loved writing essays in school and I gotta put my English degree to use somehow right.  I only have two posts, one of which is about TWST antis. 

I already got some anonymous troll telling me I'm a loser and they hope I know it.

I have made it y'all!!  My sideblog's so young but I've already got the discourse blog badge of honor!! (Also the submission is a few days old and I only noticed now whoops I feel kinda bad for them.  Definitely didn't react the way they were hoping I would)

lol congrats Anon!! It really is like a badge of honour and a seal of quality at the same time. I’m pretty sure you’ll get more of those as you continue posting, so please take care of yourself and block annoying people, including Anons!

I’m glad you’re enjoying your new side blog though. Writing essays is fun, especially when it’s about something that you care about because, well, you’re a part of the situation…

Anonymous asked:

🐩 anon back with news that they made the terrible mistake of giving me TWO character slots because they wanted a bit more flavour to our current cast before we continue in another two weeks.

I came to offer you an unholy Deacon with god complex. He is about to make Rollo disintegrate by just walking into the same room as him. He got some Sebastian and Malleus vibes all in one, it's terrible for everyone else really.

The fact I gotta draw the design is what gets me, because how does one do that justice? The smugness? The charm? I'm tempted to do a design influenced by Frankenstein in Noblesse and Sephiroth from Final Fantasy. Maybe some Undertaker because who doesn't like long haired men, yk?

This sounds awesome, Anon, I think this is the perfect type of character to throw at Rollo to make him deal with him lol Whatever you end up with, I’m sure it’ll look great! What you’ve listed sounds like a great ingredient list for a very fun character.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

There’s always been something that bothered me about whenever I try to explain the concept of Hatoful Boyfriend and most people’s immediate reaction is “oh! Like Doki Doki!”. My response is always just “…I guess?” because I could never quite explain why that felt wrong to me but I think I finally can put a finger on it now.

(To be clear, I’ve played and enjoyed both games. They’re both fun - this isn’t a criticism at all! I just think they’re, at their cores, two very different things. Also I don’t spoil anything for either game here beyond the obvious; that is, that these games are not what they seem to be at first glance, which I’m pretty sure most people know going in. If that amount of spoiler still bothers you, then stop reading here and play the games first!!!)

When people compare the two games, I 100% understand where they’re coming from. It’s the same gimmick I suppose: cutesy looking or joke visual novel actually turns out to be a smokescreen to hide the horrors within. But. Like. I feel like that’s where the similarities end.

See, DDLC’s whole point is to be shocking. It’s intended to make you jump and disturb you. It’s primarily a horror game with you, the player, as its focal point, and as a result the characters are only really there to be used by the story. The majority of the characters, with the exception of one, are pretty straightforward and lean heavily on the tropes commonly used in dating sims so the game can later distort them in increasingly horrific ways - with the intent of shocking and scaring you. The characters are more tools to be used to tell the story and create the experience than fully fleshed out people, which I think works out well thematically for DDLC. It’s effective in the sense where the characters aren’t really what draws you in, but rather the premise and the anticipation of getting a good scare out of it, with some existential stuff mixed in there for a pretty cool experience. You came to get scared right? Well that’s what you got.

But Hatoful is very different because its intent is not to shock or scare you necessarily. Hatoful, since its initial development, has been designed to make you care. Hato Moa made the game intending for people to start it because of its ridiculous concept, but then to discover it’s depth along the way. Hatoful doesn’t want to jump scare you. It wants to tell you a story. It delves into horror, that’s true, but the horror is much more psychological and it stems from the character’s actions. It’s a character driven story at its core, and it does this by taking itself seriously. It knows it’s completely absurd and leans into the absurdity, but the character interactions are real, so that when actual plot begins to happen, you’ll wonder when you started getting so attached. The characters twist typical dating sim tropes again, but this time to ask “hey why is this character like this? maybe it’s not so straightforward as you think”. And then the game goes a step further and reveals that there is an actual in-universe reason for its insane setup of “a human girl goes to bird school which is for birds and dates pigeons”. Hatoful is less tongue in cheek and more completely unabashed about it’s ridiculous premise and plays it straight - which in turn makes its serious moments shockingly genuine. That, to me, is why it works. The point is to delve into the characters. The plot is driven by the characters. It’s horrifying at times because the characters will sometimes make or be forced to make horrific choices. It’s not a gimmick. It’s a cohesive story. It’s just asking you to dig into it a little further to get there.

Tldr; DDLC is a cutesy facade and Hatoful is unabashedly absurd. DDLC wants to scare you and Hatoful wants you to care. DDLC uses its characters as tools for the experience while Hatoful’s whole point is the characters.

Editing based off a reblog that made me aware I was not completely fair with DDLC here (again, still trying not to spoil too much): The experience in DDLC is heavily based on its thematic content. When I say “the characters serve the experience” and “it wants to scare you” I don’t mean this shallowly, and I think it can and has been frequently misinterpreted in this way. In DDLC, the horror comes from the situation. In that sense, it’s thematically appropriate that the characters are tools in that way - that’s actually part of it and you are meant to feel bad for them - their situations, issues, and personalities are thematically relevant and sympathetic. I shouldn’t have juxtaposed “to scare you” and “to make you care”; that was far too simplistic a summary to the point where it is inaccurate. They both want you to care - a story only has power if you care about it. But I do still feel strongly that DDLC’s draw is the terrifying situation it impresses on the player, and the self-aware questions it asks (in which characters are put through the existential oppressive wringer to emphasize these themes), while Hatoful primarily relies on you slowly but surely acclimating to the absurdity so it can tell what is simultaneously an off the walls story that is also genuine and believable for the characters you’ve grown to know.

[beemers-hell]

You've mentioned on Twitter how ebs relationships with hank and tricky is super different from each other, could you elaborate more?

was gonna draw something for this but once again! fatigue moment lol

Anyway! Yeah they're very different! And thats just cause of how Eb connects with the two! Its a very different set of circumstances between each dude, and she has recognized this and does shit differently depending on who it is she's being all lovey dovey with.

Like with Hank, the way she interacts with him is fairly low key, subtle. She knows he doesn't have much patience and he's always irritated and has a short fuse, and he's "Experiencing The Horrors 24/7", so the way she interacts with/loves on him is very subdued. She speaks quieter, in a less brash tone, she visually indicates she's gonna touch him before she tries doing something as small as grabbing his hand, she definitely does still intentionally get on his nerves and acts annoying towards him but she doesn't over do it; she knows what his limit for playfulness is and cuts it out when she sees he's not willing to entertain it anymore. I wouldn't really say she's "gentle" with him, because she isn't like changing her behavior to be sweeter and more kind with him; she's the same rude snarky jackass that she is with everybody. What she is is more considerate with how she handles him, cause she knows he can't handle the loud, big gestures that she affords to her other partners. And its not like she's changing herself Just For Hank cause he wouldn't be able to deal with her otherwise, she actively makes the choice to change her approach because she Can Do That and has no problem doing so. To expand on the example I provided on twt, with Hank shes like "I'm gonna annoy you because I know you get a certain level of fun out of being made to feel something but I know your limits and when I reach them well be considerate and slow with one another, thats how you know I love you" ykwim. They're very much the type of couple thats quiet and chill about it (until they're behind closed doors, if you get my drift lmao)

Now, with Tricky, she is EXPLOSIVE. She is LOUD and HYPER and goes fucking WILD when she's getting up to romantic hijinks and mischief with that mf. He doesn't have NEARLY the same needs as Hank does so he can just kind of fuck around and not suffer any personal consequences for it, and Eb obviously recognizes it. So the way she handles him is just by not restricting herself the same way she does ""normal"" (as in, not Tricky's level of out of your mind) people and let's full loose. They're loud, they scream alot, they grab wherever at each other whenever they feel like with no warning, they yell obscenities at each other and go out on a whim to do god knows what, they literally use the other like stim toys!! They're insane about each other! Like the example I provided on twt, ebs like "when I die for real promise me you'll devour my flesh and bones" and trickys like "oh fuck yeah I will" and then they squeeze the shit out of each other. They're very much the "heart bare on their sleeves, loud as fuck about it" type of couple!

The only real commonality between these relationships (aside from like, yanno, there being unconditional love felt between eb and tricky and eb and hank) is just that they're all really into fighting, obvs. And not like, argument type shit, I mean they will physically assault each other for fun because they all just like that sort of shit! Eb obvs knows she's not gonna be able to seriously injure/actually murder either Hank or Tricky (at least not without a weapon) but loves the adrenaline rush from putting herself in a position where she could either get her shit rocked or beat the shit out of someone. Hank and Tricky are just bloodthirsty anyway, we all know this. But they all know what's too far and what would be going over the line so its not like anything actually traumatizing is gonna happen between them and her whenever they battle. And plus, Eb kinda sees it as a trust affirming exercise, cause she knows damn well both Hank and Tricky could kill her at any moment's notice. So the fact that she will physically engage them like this and they will entertain it, but not go as far as to murder her without hesitation (or her approval, but that's a whole other thing), proves to her she can put the trust you have to put into someone in order to open your heart up to them romantically, yanno?

[nabataprophet]

without hurting or being hurt

Whenever you lose track of your father, you always find him in the same place. You round the corner of the library and find him, as always, tucked into the back with a thick tome in hand.

You tug at his robes to get his attention. Whenever he's reading, no matter how much you try to raise your voice, you can never draw his attention unless you do this.

"Sophia?!" He yelps, nearly dropping the heavy tome. He catches it at the last moment, breathing a sigh of relief to not have beaned his young daughter right on the head. "Sorry, were you calling me?"

"...Is it... fun...?"

Your voice is shot from playing with Fae all afternoon, but your father knows you well enough to interpret your vague statement and the pointing of your finger.

Your father's face lights up. "Dark magic? Oh, there's so much to learn! I could study just the knowledge gathered in Arcadia alone and not make it through even half—no, not even a fourth—of it in my lifetime! Isn't that incredible? I consider myself pretty learned in the ancient language, too, so just imagine how much faster I could read if I were completely fluent! To be honest, I was also thinking about asking the village elder to help me translate a few sections."

Excitement colors his voice as he launches into an impassioned explanation. Recently, you've noticed him moving slower than usual, but seeing him so passionate soothes your anxieties somewhat.

"Can I... learn, too?"

The bright smile on your father's face fades, replaced by a more complicated expression. He takes the tome in his hand and returns it to its home on the shelf, far above where your tiny hands can reach.

"Honestly, you're my daughter, so you may have a talent in dark magic, but I hope there never comes a day you have to use it, Sophia."

"...Why?"

"Hmmm... let me put it this way. The people who live outside of this village aren't very nice people. They like to hurt other people, especially if they have dragon blood like you do. You're a very kindhearted girl, Sophia, so I hope you never have to hurt another person. Do you understand?"

You nod quietly. You don't want to hurt anyone, either. Sometimes when you close your eyes, you see flashes of visions of people attacking each other with weapons. It's all incomprehensible to a little girl who has only known the safety and peace of a true Utopia. You don't understand why a person would willingly hurt another person.

Your father scoops you up in his arms, holding you close.

"You really do resemble your mother more and more by the day." He strokes your head, affection in his eyes and regret in his voice. "...But I can't help but wish you resembled me as well. Ha ha, forgive your selfish father, Sophia."

It's many years later when you finally understand what he had meant when he told you those words on that day. He is long gone now, his lifespan mere days in comparison to yours. Sometimes you wonder if he had already known at that point that he was never going to be able to see you grow older.

It's not until after the war that you return to the library of your youth. You're tall enough now to pluck that tome off the shelf without even needing to stand on tiptoes. The well-loved pages of the book open easily under your fingers. When you were younger, you had wondered what kind of secrets the book your father had kept hidden from you had contained. By all means, it's just a normal dark tome just like the ones sold in the village's shop.

It's the particulars of the spell that stand out more than anything else. The tome details the usage of a spell that restores life force at the expense of another; the second level of dark magic. It's not particularly complicated magic and indeed, you've handled far more complex magic while traveling with Lord Roy's army.

Your father had been right, though. You still wish that you would never have to hurt another person, but you had no longer been afforded a choice in the matter. There's no way that your father could have known that in the future, your perfect untouchable paradise would be under threat of being invaded or that you would end up being taken prisoner.

He was only human, so how could he have known?

I hope you never have to hurt another person, your father had said. He had hoped you would stay nestled safely within paradise for your whole life.

But a life without hurting or being hurt is impossible, after all.

Class Mastered: Dark Bishop

[legionofpotatoes]

It’s weird right? I went onto Stable diffusion a month or two back to see what this hype was about and initially? I was amazed. But then after an hour or two I realized- it takes *so much* trial and error to make something coherent and without artifacting. So many hours I wasted trying to make something ‘proper’ looking. They claim Auto-Gen (I refuse to call it AI) art is just as hard as regular art, and in a way? I think they’re both right, and painfully, painfully wrong. It *is* some form of work, and it *is* time consuming,

But it is *not* more time consuming than actually making the art yourself. It might take you just as many hours, but ultimately? You’ll spend just as much, if not MORE, time forcing a non-sapient bot to make the completed piece of art as close to your vision as possible, that you could just practicing to make it yourself. At that point, why *wouldn’t* you just say screw the bot and focus on trying to make the art yourself?

It makes no sense to me, and if anything, trying Diffusion out myself has only reinforced my distaste towards Auto-Gen art and the so called “artists” that swear by it and others like it

But it's like pointless to pretend it won't change someday, right? Their argument is that not wanting to draw should not be an obstacle to a drawing being there. It's an insane equation but that's the one they're obsessed with, and at this point the genart scene is far along enough where that is just a question of interface. Like you said. And eventually their "prompters" market will have its own implosion of intermediary optimizers or whatever and someday, somehow, they'll bridge that gap of translating their thoughts into the perfect input to feed into the machine and get the *exact* desired result.

No longer any conversational or communicative value in visual art. Everyone gets their own perfect things whenever and forever. That is what they want. And to any average joe, that sounds just fine. That was my point. They might be on the clown side of history for now, but if they solve the superficial interface problems, both public opinion and commerce will rally in support immediately.

Either way, I'd personally digress from the amount of labor argument and instead frame the question this way: exactly why can't a bunch of folks get okay with the fact that they simply don't want to draw? It's normal to not want to draw. That is not some flaw to optimize or ~*Disrupt*~. Just a choice you can make with two full outcomes - both equally acceptable if divorced from pride, of course. But it feels like so much of tech these days is swept up in ego and rife with the type of hero worship and cult behavior that promises to solve everything in the world with code. Even mentioning that summons immediate acronyms and buzzwords from recent memory.

So to me it's like. If they view art as an avenue of the human condition flaring up their insecurities, they'll deflect that truth and say it's actually just a market they haven't tapped into yet. Hence all this twisting in the wind trying to solve it with tech. And whatever their end point is, eventually, they might just get there.

Unless the datasets poison themselves into entropy before that, of course. Here's hoping

[danmeiljie]

How Its Should Have Happened: A Series of Advance Bravely Fix Its

Episode 26

Yuan Zong watched Xia Yao with fond, relieved eyes as the younger man slowly chewed purple grapes, careful not to upset his healing face. The whole left side was covered in angry red scabs that were desperately trying to grow new skin. The effect left his cheek and temple pulled slightly taut whenever he moved, but Xia Yao pretended it didn't hurt. When Xia Yao's bright eyes caught his gaze, Yuan Zong smiled back warmly.

"What do you think?" Xia Yao asked, raising his eyebrows and turning his face towards Yuan Zong so he could see the wounds. "Is my face back to normal?"

Yuan Zong controlled his features to give a neutral expression, "...Almost." He refused to let the younger man look in a mirror again for at least a week.

"What does 'almost' mean?" Xia Yao looked like he was one second away from a pout.

"It means you're definitely healing, but not quite completely back to normal yet," Yuan Zong patiently explained.

"I bet you can barely tell anything happened, right?" Xia Yao looked much younger sitting in his hospital clothes perched up against many pillows in the hospital bed, with such a hopeful look on his pretty face.

"Babe, don't worry. It will keep healing." Yuan Zong reached and squeezed Xia Yao's hand to emphasize his point. Xia Yao squirmed in the bed, torn between enjoying being called 'babe' by such a handsome man, and frustrated that his face still carried the marks of the brutal assault.

Yuan Zong took pity on the boy and acquiesced, "You look much better than you did a few days ago."

"Really?" Xia Yao's fallen expression brightened again and he laughed, falling back against the pillows. Yuan Zong sighed in his heart. He knew he would deny this man nothing.

"Hey, Da-ge," Xia Yao asked sweetly, drawing out the word in a coquettish tone. "Can you raise my feet a little higher?"

Yuan Zong smirked at the brazen flirting but stood and bent over to adjust the settings at the foot of the electric hospital bed. Just after he turned away, he felt a slender hand slap his butt. This boy! He turned and gave an exaggerated scowl.

"What are you doing?"

Xia Yao laughed, "I just felt like smacking such a perfect butt!"

Yuan Zong's expression turned dangerous and he fixed Xia Yao with a meaningful stare and he slowly turned around and loomed over the reclined patient. Putting both hands on either side of the bed, he leaned his face close to Xia Yao's right ear.

"You may be recovering now, but don't think you can escape punishment for being naughty when we get home," he whispered in a low voice.

Xia Yao shivered with anticipation and the caress of Yuan Zong's warm breath on his skin. He pushed a hand against Yuan Zong's chest so he couldn't get closer.

"It wasn't that naug–"

His reply was cut off by a persistent tongue pushing into his mouth and lips sucking him inside. Yuan Zong kissed Xia Yao deeply, and perhaps more firmly than he should have, like he was reclaiming what was his. Xia Yao enjoyed the passionate kiss but successfully pushed Yuan Zong away and sunk back into the pillows, looking up at Yuan Zong through his eyelashes, his lips red from the abuse.

"Someone could walk in!" He protested in a hushed tone.

Yuan Zong arched an eyebrow as if to say, 'That's exactly my point.'

Yuan Zong straightened up and tucked the blankets around Xia Yao and repositioned the bowl of grapes to the center of his lap, having been disturbed by the sudden kiss.

"Behave." He ordered with a private smile and Xia Yao nodded, popping a new grape between those delicious lips. Yuan Zong swallowed and had to tell himself it was worth the wait. Soon, when Xia Yao's face and broken leg was healed, they would engage in more vigorous bedroom activities again.

Yuan Zong was about to sit back down at the bedside when both men turned towards the opening room door, only to find Mama Xia with a frantic expression on her beautifully painted face.

"Oh my God, my Son!"

[spikrock]

my mad t party lgbt hcs explained

very messy post below! some are genuine reasonings and others are just "yeah haha trust me bro"

tarrant: bisexual & nonbinary

i mean for all the bi characters the hc is pretty self explanatory, i mean look at them yknow. hes a little too fruity with mally and thackery 🤨 but tarrant and alice are literally bi4bi couple of all time as for the nonbinary hc, i dont know! id like to know if anyone else sees him this way or if its just me :) hes just got too much enby swag 

alice: bisexual & trans

its all spiderwebs fault!!!!!!! it made her gay!!!!!!!!! /j but seriously, kissing ladypillar and different numbers such ho hey (you know how every now and then theyll switch alice standing with mally to someone else like thackery or absolem, the few times she did it with ladypillar are so funny because they cant rhyme the pronouns 😭). also ik this sounds silly but i really appreciate that in the mtp shows once ladypillar was added they didnt stop doing spiderwebs or change it to be like “haha were both girls 😵‍💫blehh this is so weird 😂”/play it off as a joke or anything because they very easily could have done that. shes trans. i already made that post with her and mally but again, if shes not trans then why is her color palette blue and pink? checkmate liberals. 

thackery: bisexual & bigender

yeah hes bi i dont know what else to say he and mally are in love frfr i actually just completely made up bigender. made it up, i dont know where i got it from i just remember early february drawing mad t party on my laptop and suddenly thinking “bigender thackery” and its stuck with me since then. (the two genders i hc him with are male/female though so) i wouldnt say he feels just one or the other, he feels both at the same time

mally: bisexual & trans

he is top ten bisexuals of all time,, whenever they do the pretender and tarrant and alice stand on either side of him and take turns singing he is DYING. passing away HE IS TRANSGENDER!!!!!!! we all know it. instead of coming out as trans he made up some crazy story about being killed in a war and then coming back as a man 🙄/j hes just dramatic like that

chessur: gay & trans

haha this is mostly because of @thatrandomartistjavi's hcs xd chessur is special in the sense that hes the only mtp character that never really gets a chance to flirt with anyone else since hes always hiding behind that drumset. from what ive seen he was shipped with dinah a lot, presumably just cuz theyre both cats since they rarely interact, so ive never really understood it :p i usually hc cheshire cats as nonbinary/something under that umbrella but this guy gives me transgender vibes. idk

absolem/ladypillar(? dont know if she ever got a real name): lesbian & trans

shes very much a lesbian. just. just like yeah. i think the most prominent character that she flirts with (other than alice) is mally. from what ive seen it only really happens when its el dormouse on stage but before i started seeing that i always saw mally/absolem/thackery as like, a trio. i mean obviously everyone in the band are friends, but idk. i have lots of drawings of those three hanging out so maybe thats just something my delusional brain has completely made up. but anyway the point is i dont ship those two and i sort of see them with a more sibling dynamic. mally always holds her back when shes trying to touch the little castle music box thing, at the end of sets he’ll pull her antennae to take her off stage/she'll pull him by his scarf, etc. (also theres a clip where she kisses him on the cheek and as they begin to walk off stage she turns to the crowd and mouths “no” and does the throat slitting gesture thing which makes me think theyre sorta just playing around :p)

sooo in a post a while back i said i hc her as genderfluid but ive changed my mind?? actually before i made that post i headcanoned her as trans but then switched to genderfluid and now ive uhh changed my mind again. im very indecisive like that and very easily swayed on my opinions haha,,, @ticktockteapot's metaphor for her “becoming the beautiful butterfly she was always meant to be” is very nice i like it lots. also the fact that ladypillar has a much higher stage presence than absolem (obviously not including the spiderwebs number…or crazypillar) was always so sweet to me cuz like,,,aw shes finally more comfortable being herself and performing :’)

tl;dr none of them are straight none of them are cis. happy pride month and thank you for coming to my TED talk

[nerice]

"find the word" snippets round 2!! wahoo!!!

reasonable (eligray banter ft. whatever this implies abt worst man's idea of a fun pastime)

eliada stirs more sugar into a tea he no longer has any desire to drink. his story is much too reasonable to dismiss outright, but that does not mean he has to like it. an existence manifested in the cradle of creation, an existence come face to face with the elusive observer... that would make gray a true ruler. but he cannot be, he isn't, eliada would know. eliada is the only person in this thrice forsaken universe able to say so with certainty. the gold stitched into his spine shudders whenever reina and him have the misfortune of sharing the same physical space, but gray, as aggravating as he is, leaves that part of him cold. he has the sudden suspicion that he is being scammed. "you are certain of your immortality?" he asks. gray dismisses the idea with a wave of his scarred arm. "plenty."

extinct + threaten (this will not end badly, don't worry abt it :)!)

hunting shadows is meant to be more of a patrol situation; keep them out of the palace, keep them from wandering into the surrounding settlements, but cait hunts them with a ferocity. she hunts them for sport. venturing out erratically, drawing circles far and farther still until she finds a nest, or until one is dumb enough to mistake her for prey. her kills are always vicious, her chase relentless, as if she could actually drive them to extinction. all to draw out their leader, the scorpion that took her sister from her—unaware that maheloas is not a shadow at all, but a god—so it's no wonder sky tries to dissuade her from the path of revenge. maheloas may be less threatening than garvith or noah, as far as true ruler power levels go, but even with all her natural talent for swordsmanship, if cait were to ever track him down, she'd only get herself killed.

value (more early eligray content! just rail him on the couch its ok)

surely, if gray clothed himself in better suits than rags, he'd make a fine man. even a man someone such as eliada could fancy. but all of that is tangential, a temptation for when they share too deep a drink. now eliada only has eyes for his true interest: the conspicuous bracelet slipped from under gray's sleeve. it rises and falls with his sleeping breath, the shifting opalescence within the marbles following a stranger rhythm. he'd only seen it twice before; both times gray had quickly pushed it back under his sleeve. both times eliada's attention had been drawn, and both times this interest had set gray in a bad mood. it could be ornamental. it could but that's as unlikely as ever seeing this man in anything that could even loosely be termed an "outfit." no, gray does not value fashion and it follows that he does not wear this bracelet for vanity, either. which means there is a story. and any fragment of an existence as impossible as his is bound to be worth a little risk.

cunning (that one canon jumie/gray dance long before 🐇. :)))

"you two are close?" gray asks to divert her attention. "i pledged my life to her," jumeira says, using his moment of genuine surprise to overtake the dance, clasping his hand and locking him into her own interpretation of the rhythm. all faux seduction gone, she is clean, businesslike composure now as she measures him up, step by step by step. he recognizes a cunning in her that, for the first time this night, worries him. forget the soul-bound pup figuring him out, this woman is worse; a single exchange enough for her to glean the murderous impulses he has kept concealed all night, though she wouldn't know him as soulless even if she cracked him open with her bare hands.

priority (queen of (fucking up) everything 💔)

"i abandoned them. i was at the peak of my power, veiled, i did not feel pain—but i fled. because i could not bear the dead, thousands torn apart in a blink..." nerice was different. reina can barely stand to think its name. it was a different world, a different war. how tired she is of war. she was the beginning of this universe and she has yet to know peace, but now, as the last remnant of her world, she is azra's priority. now she can become a shield; do for these worlds what she couldn't do for her own: face azra, and fight.

relate (like f*ther like d**ghter moments <3. + throwback 2 their talk in lhnh)

gray's daughter has changed since the last time they met, in more ways than one. the bandaged sleeves replaced by long gloves over hard muscle, her once-pale hair now kept in tight braids pulled back and dyed a rusty black that absorbs the dim light of his study. "you associate with soulless, we both know that well enough," sky says, trailing the long edge of his drafting table with two fingers. eliada folds his hands in lieu of a smile. her threat has a familiar flavor of indifferent dominance. "they seem drawn to me," he muses. "a position you can surely relate to, rabbit." the mahogany beneath her fingers cracks. last time her birthname had sent her scrambling for the door, but that, too, has changed. she leans onto the table, the splintering around her fingers deliberate, controlled. annoyance flickers through eliada at the thought of having to patch those cracks after she leaves. "that dark hair can't mask the resemblance." "good," she snarls. "i'm not trying to." (((((a lie))))

adventure (the girls are not ok but once upon a time they were)

lucie remembers the attic with crystal clarity: derelict as the rest of the house, a simple mattress in the corner waiting for her whenever she escaped from the orphanage. avery in her hammock. avery with a foot flexed against the ground to keep herself steady while she aimed rubber bands at the rats infesting the woodwork. avery, head tilted back at the sound of her hasty ascent on the rusty ladder; brimming with excitement for the tales from lucie's latest dream, the next adventure they could replay.

&&& bonus 白花 adventure snippet under the cut due to #tw linn

linnea restrains her with a tight fist in her hair, pouring the liquid down faye's throat until she sputters and chokes, spits some of it back up at her. "vulgar," linnea remarks and shoves her back into the blankets. faye begins to stir beneath her, coming awake, aware as their skin contact draws on. as soon as linnea withdraws her touch, she curls back in on herself, panting and gasping. "not long now. soon you will forget everything, forget the pain," linnea hums as she lays out an assortment of pills in a neat line. pressed herbs, polychrome powders, dried fragments of mushroom. last, right by faye's twitching fingers, a small vial of fluorescent liquid, a syringe, and a tourniquet. "we are going to have an adventure."

CHEERS >:3c

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

Diary time, once more. Long post warning, as usual.

Some people who were mature enough to experience it have said on various social media platforms I use that this November is giving... November 2004.

20 years ago.

Recently, I did a little post on here about a few things that I was into circa fall 2004 and how some new animated stuff that came out this autumn was similar to that. TRANSFORMERS ONE lined up with my love of BIONICLE and MEGAS XLR and stuff like that back in the day, and THE WILD ROBOT with its nature themes, seasonal timeline, and North American animal characters lined up w/ my then-obsession with BROTHER BEAR, a movie that was about a year old by the time I was regularly spinning my DVD of it. Now also throw in PIECE BY PIECE, a LEGO movie featuring music that was big circa 2003-2005... And Orange Fartfrog winning a second term Grover Cleveland-style... Ohhhhh shit. It really do be Kyle's 2004-Core, huh?

Anyways, I was 12 when Dubya was re-elected. I was completely oblivious to pretty much any and all political matters at that age. I was aware he was president and that a lot of people did not like him at all, and a few other things (obviously 9/11 and everything being about terrorism). I tuned out whenever my family talked politics at dinner or get-togethers or whatever.

Now, my life was far from perfect at that time. I have as many terrible memories as I do good ones from that period, and the good ones are just so good that I really cherish them. I guess those middle school-era memories are ingrained in one's brain, eh? All those interests you made and collected, all the creative endeavors you pursued, core stuff to you. Oh, to be an oblivious scrunkly weird kid again, without the bullshit, getting all excited about your obsessions and looking forward to seeing those friends of yours at school who make going slightly less horrible. No financial worries or anything like that, though if I was openly queer back then... Ho-ho-hoooo no. And Dubya went after queers, his re-election did center eliminating gay marriage.

And being in middle school, that's when I started to experience those queer-er feelings a little bit more than ever before. I remember drawing characters of mine crossdressing a lot, and generally being like "ladies". I wanted to wear women's clothes, and often read the fashion magazines that were in my house... But little beyond that. Using "gay" as a slur, an insult, was common back then, too. I did my fair share of that back when I thought I was a cis-male, hanging out with other male classmates and being an asshole like they were. I didn't know anyone at the time who was openly gay or trans or any kind of queer, either. I have an uncle who is queer, but I didn't discover that he is just that until a few years later. Mid-2008 I want to say. That helped kill whatever queerphobia was stinking up the insides of my brain back in the day. Where was I? Oh yeah, so it was both that and also wanting to wear a skirt and high fashion boots and be ladylike. Men wearing those things, oooh naughty... And kinda sexy. What a dichotomy, and I largely kept that a big secret. And yet I didn't in some ways, weirdly. It wasn't enough to make my folks suspect anything, interestingly. Again, drawing my characters crossdressing, them crossdressing in parts of those stories just because. The plot barely called for it.

But, those feelings of bliss remain something I long for. Suppose I woke up tomorrow morning, and the only thing my 32-year-old ass had to worry about was... Oh, I dunno, I fell a little bit behind in making my comic or I lost a game or I didn't go and get that milkshake I've been craving. No, in 2004, that was all pelted by shit. Like how terrible school could be for me, and other assorted unfair things. I also tended to be a little shit back then. If I can redo 2004 with my brain as it is now? Oh goodness, it'd be something lol.

Whereas most adults in 2004 who didn't drink conservative arsenic (as opposed to what they call "Liberal Kool-Aid"), they've said that November 2004 felt just like these past few weeks: Bleak, the feeling that it was all over, and utter disappointment in Americans who re-elected him.

And yet, Dubya tripped up once more, fucked up even harder, Democrats kicked ass in the 2006 midterms, and the electorate got fed up over time. Thus, in 2008, all changed. Literally. But I suspect many Americans like that just have some kind of collective amnesia, or they're naive enough to believe that that badness they hated about Dubya wouldn't happen again. Thus, Discount Mussolini getting elected in 2016 and again this year.

Maybe the 2026 and 2028 elections repeat 2006 and 2008.

I don't subscribe to defeatism, so miss me with that "if we even HAVE elections by then", please go process your worries elsewhere. If anything, Orange Turdgoblin and his band of fucked-up freaks will do a record-breaking speedrun of Dubya's second term, and Americans will be fed up in no time. If those proposed tariffs are anything to go by, ditto other things. The "moderates" who seem to decide our elections every cycle, who voted for him based on "vibes"... are going to be disappointed very soon, I feel. More ammo for us to regain the Senate and the House, and roadblock him once more. Like we did after 2018. As bad as that first term was, I can only imagine how much WORSE it could've been.

And once his time is up... Who are we left with in the GOP in 2028? Juice-less bores who have none of that guy's supposed "charisma", as far as I can see. And that includes the utterly creepy-ass VP-elect. But, that's far off. Midterms are my priority first and foremost, and whatever elections are held next November.

Maybe if I were 32 in the year 2004, I would've had similar feelings. Maybe even worse, because as far as I can see, the country was way less accepting of people like me back in those days. Some elder queers here and there have confirmed that for me, through talking about their experiences and what life was like back then. Maybe I would've felt way worse in 2004 if I were that age and were well aware of who I am. It's possible I wouldn't have been!

No, on the morning after Election Day, I felt so awful and just deeply disappointed in so many people. Angry, terrified. I spedrun a gamut of emotions and anxiety whirlwinds for a few days. On that day, I still had it in me to pull myself together to go see a movie, and I did. I saw PIECE BY PIECE, on one of its last days at cinema. Where I also happen to work. And I still saw some of my co-workers, and after that... I still had people to read from online to help me process all of this stuff... So, I had some help, even if it wasn't the amount I'd like to have (such as more security and options in case something is to go wrong for me), it's still something.

I then kicked my own ass and said "Well Kyle, things could go very badly over the next few years... Better go make your comic and other stuff, then! Even if it's shit, go out there and make a thing!" So I did. And I will continue to do so. I don't know what will happen to me from now until early 2029, so, I might as well get going on something. Make each day count. COVID-19 and other complications did that for me back in 2020-21, I took risks and made life strides I wouldn't have imagined doing merely a year prior to that. I want to keep that up.