#maybe one day ill do a full drawing but for now i will do silly little doodles of silly little ghosties uwu

[wheatcak3]

he is my comfort character to doodle 😭♥

[ussgallifrey]

Meeting Point

✦ Summary: In a world full of soulmates with destined meeting points, Steve Rogers' mark had always been a point of heartbreak. Until he woke up in the 21st Century; that's when his hope was rekindled.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 1,815

✦ Author's Note: Do you ever have a dream that just fully re-alters your brain chemistry? Yeah, I had a killer dream last night that sparked my love for the Soulmate AU to return. Prepare to be bombarded by soulmate stories over the next few weeks.

The mark on Steve Rogers’ wrist starts to make a lot more sense when he wakes up in the 21st century.

It came back to him, slowly at first, after he was returned to SHIELD’s headquarters. After he was subjected to a myriad of tests from doctors and a few uncomfortable conversations with an in-house counselor. When, only after Director Fury sent him upstate to a place called The Retreat - until the media attention dies down, Captain. I’m sure you understand - that Steve even had a second to think about that silly old mark on his wrist.

For the first time in five days and some technical sixty-seven years, Steve is alone. Not surrounded by agents or doctors or scientists. Not a single camera or reporter in sight. It’s just him and the cabin he was delivered to.

When he pulls off his jacket and finally catches a glimpse at the familiar black marking there. That’s when he allows himself a second to actually slow down and think about it. The chaotic world of the twenty-first century finally fades away from the edges of his peripheral, and he sees the one grounding thing that still remains in his life.

There, in elegant script reads a simple date:

06. 29. 2019

And for the first time in hours, days, years, Steve can feel the hint of a smile trying to turn up his chapped lips.

He could have never imagined. Not all those years ago, back in Brooklyn. There was an honest-to-God chance now. 

So, he draws his fingers along the familiar trace of numbers and sets to work.

Back when those numbers first appeared, Steve had only felt immediate heartbreak. His Ma’s pitying eyes had been the only thing keeping his chin up at that point. At least he had someone out there, even if he would only get to spend a short time with them. And maybe that was what kept his head above water through all of his childhood illnesses and bouts. The fact that he would survive this hell because it was literally destined that he would live to 100.

Oh sure, the other kids on his street had the normal marks.

Six years more, three weeks, two days. That was the typical lay of the land. So, when kids started asking about his date, his numbers, Steve would just curl up his wrist and clamp his right hand down over the text. It was no one’s business but his own.

But now that date finally made sense. He was only twenty-six, no matter what his actual birthdate was. He was physically still just a young man. He wasn’t going to meet the love of his life on his deathbed. Maybe this was just the universe’s way of apologizing to him; for making him lose everything else, but in return he would get the one thing anyone ever really wanted.

Seven years. He could wait seven years.

It’s a sick sort of relief when he sees those numbers still engraved on his wrist after the Snap. He’s not entirely sure if he expected them to fade away when half of the universe was turned to dust, but it’s probably the only bit of hope that’s keeping him from drowning under the guilt and sorrow that the rest of the team is.

Never one to stand down, to give up the fight, Steve keeps himself going in whatever way he can. Whether the people still want Captain America’s help is another story. But he finds different ways to assist, to be a help, to make up for the wrongs.

And soon the calendar months are passing by and life continues on within the aftermath of near-total destruction.

Only Natasha and him remain behind in the old compound. The others have moved to make their own paths in the new world marred by their own collective failures. He stares at the desktop calendar in front of him as Nat wraps up another weekly virtual conference with the team outside of New York.

Okoye, Rhodes, and Danvers disappear in a shimmer of cascading blue light. Nat’s too focused on writing down notes to notice that Nebula remains silent, stoic, observing them both.

Steve sits up, “Was there something else?”

The assassin beside him looks up, finally noticing the alien.

She raises her chin, “We’ll be returning soon. Within the week. He says he found something of value, worth looking into anyway.”

He glances over at Nat, who merely nods, “Okay. We’ll plan for that then.”

And then she’s gone, stepping away from the camera as the lights dim and the two are drenched back into the light of the otherwise empty compound.

Natasha clicks the pen against the table a few times before she merely rolls it away from her notebook, settling back into her chair with crossed arms.

Steve rubs at his left wrist.

Nebula and Rocket arrive late Friday night. Steve’s only just gotten back to the compound - fresh out of a shower after removing shards of glass from his bicep. While half of the population had disappeared a year ago, crime hadn’t gone away. Hell, it probably got worse, in all honesty. And Steve had the nasty habit of throwing himself into everything and anything without backup around these days.

Tonight had been no different. Another wannabe small-time crime lord in the making, building an empire through the streets of New York. Steve liked to remind them that there was still at least one person on the planet who noticed.

He should have taken it a little easier on himself though, with tomorrow drawing near. That was the day, the destined date of his meeting. And he probably shouldn’t look like a complete mess on the day he’s set to meet his soulmate. His other half.

As he flexes his knuckles, peering down at the bits of dried blood under his nail beds that hadn’t come clean in the shower, the entire compound begins to quake. He looks at his reflection  in the mirror above the sink, a familiar sinking feeling settling deep into his stomach as he recalls the night Tony and Nebula came to Earth.

Without a second thought, he nabs his shirt from the edge of the sink and takes off toward the courtyard. Their ship is already parked there, with Rocket on the ramp and Nebla looking up toward the stars with Nat. Steve slows his pace as he moves to join them, staring up in slight wonder at the yellow and blue ship descending above them.

The seven wings of the ship spread out in a pattern that looks almost star-like against the deep black background of the night sky. The wheels settle into the grass as the engines hum into powering down.

“ - in the Draconis Sector,” Nebula continues whatever it was she was previously saying to Nat. “Only Star Blaster in sight.”

Steve stares up at the impressive ship. The wings give it an added height over the Benatar that’s parked next to it. It takes a minute for the pilot, the person they told them would be coming along with them, the person that could be of use, to exit the ship.

He straightens up as the armored figure comes into view. Royal blue and gold metal, with radiant lights that remind him of the Arc Reactor, light up the space around them all as the person draws near.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

Rocket sneers in return, Nebula looks surprisingly amused as the woman moves to grab hold of the alien’s hand.

“Not a bad place,” she then addresses Natasha.

And then her helmeted face turns to assess the supersoldier. She takes a step forward, then another while Steve settles his hands on his belt.

Grabbing hold of her matching blue and gold helmet, she pulls it free from her head. Steve can feel an actual breath escape his lips.

“And you must be…?”

He swallows, extends his hand, “Steve.”

Her smile wanes and her grasp on his hand loosens to the point that she merely drops her hand back to her side. Steve wonders if he’s made some kind of faux pas as she tucks her helmet against her left hip.

“You know…” she shakes her head, a smile beginning to reform, “I was really wondering when I’d get around to meeting you.”

She looks up at him with playful eyes as she begins pulling back the sleeve on her left hand.

“Rogers, right? Steven Grant Rogers?”

He kind of gapes before forcing himself to nod as his eyes travel down to her now-exposed wrist. She twists it around for him to see, and sure enough, there in a familiar scrawl of handwriting sits his name.

His own left wrist itches in anticipation as he wordlessly lifts it up for her to see the date of their meeting - now sometime after midnight on the 29th.

“Huh,” she quips, dropping her hand in favor of taking hold of his as she peers at the numbers. “Must be a fluke - different world, different systems. Alien names.”

He just nods, again, as all words have seemingly escaped his reach. And then he looks over at the others, Rocket with a tilted head and Nat with her knowing smirk.

But you’re not plexed, as you continue to investigate the date - your fingers tracing the lines of each number, “When you grow up on a world full of Kerlaans and Vastalls, Steven’s kind of out there, you know?”

Then you drop your hand after suddenly taking stock of the captive audience around you. Steve craves the ghost of your touch as soon as it’s gone.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly smile, rubbing at the back of your neck with your free hand. “I’m Velariun Kaal, ex-Centurion of the Nova Corps. And… I’m just here to help in whatever way I can really. Meeting you was just the bonus,” you finish with a wink.

“It’s good to finally meet you too,” he finally says at last, eyes drifting across the soft features of your face.

“So,” you smile, gently moving away from the others - toward the compound. Steve’s in step with you just a beat later. “How long have you had those numbers there?”

He can’t help but chuckle, the first real laugh in nearly a year. “You honestly don’t even want to know.”

“There’s a story there,” your eyes find his in the darkness of night. Glistening starlight illuminates your irises, like swirling galaxies.

He nods, “There is.”

“Worth the wait though?” you ask, with a clinch of hope in your voice.

Steve stops where he is.

You fall back a step to meet him.

He reaches his hand down, slowly entwining your hands together. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the slow and steady pulse of your beating heart.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he murmurs.

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

Ayo! I haven't answered asks in FOREVER, so it's time for some spring cleaning :) Also answering other stuff, like what I've been up to.

If you sent an ask and it's not here, sorry! I may have deleted it because the prompt required too much work of me and I wasn't feeling it, or I was uncomfortable.

Let's gooooo !

Firstly - where have I been? Work REALLY picked up in a way I wasn't expecting over the last...4 months? I was working double and often triple the hours I was used to. With work, vacations, random illnesses, and many video games I got a bit too obsessed with, this blog took a backseat. Plus, sometimes I get disinterested in vore when obsessed with something else. Sometimes, that lasts months, and it did this time.

But now I can confirm that work will FINALLY chill for a long period of time. I'm free! And more motivated than ever! Wahoo! Thanks for your support ALWAYS.

Next big question - when am I going to do more of my story? The one with Asyr? AHHHHHGHHGHH this story has consumed my life. I think about it daily. I dream about it. And yet I'm not as comfortable writing as I am drawing, so writing is a slow process that my perfectionist ass struggles with. I can assure you that there is a story in the works - and I am working on it at a snail's pace.

Okay, ask time...

@ponyluvesonic09 AYO maybe I'll make a full ghost pred pros/con list for you, because that sounds awesome! Kir//by is one of the silliest canon preds out there. Honestly getting eaten by him would be like getting vored by a vacuum, LOL. Galaxy tummy!! Imagine a prey floating around in one of those item bubbles all grumpy. Thank u for the ask, this is good stuff.

no. ( /・・)ノ

UWAGHHHHH I LIKE HER!!! Never played O/verwat/ch but what a gem!! I have a random fondness for centaur-like preds nowadays. She looks so cozy. THANK U I LOVE HER!!!

@tiger9o0 I have not played r//ain w//orld or know what it's about, LOL. Looks like a platformer? Man, I'm terrrriiiiibblleee at those. But whoever this is on the cover, I LIKE EM. A+. (That might not answer ur question shdjbghkjg SORRY)

@heimkoheimkofan LOVE THAT I GOT THE ROBOT ENJOYERS AFTER THAT ONE POST....YES yall are so right and I'm so wrong for just hard metal robot tums. I will rectify my mistake soon I PROMISE. Also oh! You were the one asking about stomachs other than elemental ones! IVE HAD THAT IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER IM SORRY AHHHH. I REALLY love your imagination with tums and you've inspired me to think of some awesome environments! THANKS

@fastfur07 BWAH?? Ugh I'm all over the place when it comes to art. Some pieces take 30 min (like the zangooc I drew at the top of this post), most take 2 days. Some really hard drawings like my wolf bat creechur from a few months ago and my shrimp from last year took a month. THANK U??

We're going back so far that I think this is about my naga oc (which I'm in the midst of redesigning cough cough). For him, he would never tolerate being prey, extremely unwilling bahaha. In general, I haven't thought much about naga or snake prey! I get the appeal of slurping up a noodle, but I just prefer human prey :)

@fastfur07 you fiend, you always give me the best drawing ideas. UNFORTUNATELY, I didn't have time to draw something for this one. BUTTTT....

(i've had this next one in my drafts for forever)

then i had a silly comic. I'll post the wip here because I won't finish it, so enjoy bahaha.

@blizzaria123-blog THANK U im rapidly melting into a puddle from ur words

@mrpotatomanversionsix relevant. i will continue drawing them 4 u

?!??!!??!?!??!?!?!??!?!? how dare u enter my ask box with this blasphemy

@sfwsillynoms WAH!!! you!!! I'm currently redesigning my naga oc but when I finish I'll tag you, if you're still around! And he can 100% be drawn with ur preysona :)

@mystorl i am SO late to this, but SMART. I like it. I shall give my lil guy this friend. I just want to let u know that I see this and it's wonderful and I will do something abt it.

I remember this ask made me laugh a ton when I first got it. thank u. idk why I find this so funny

@sillylilprey IM CRYING RIGHT BACK AHHHH this is an ancient ask, but thank u! hope you're still enjoying!

@terrytheinsane finally, the last ask in my askbox. I love it. You have been wronged with how long it took me to answer you. I have gained knowledge from your ask. THANKS

AND THAT'S IT!! Thanks guys, I hope to make you proud! Feel free to send more asks, and hopefully I will answer in a TIMELY manner.

Goodnight! And remember: Nice Vore ᕕ༼⌐■-■༽ᕗ

[thewandererh]

JASHLING GIFT BOMB, GO!!!!💥💥

this might become a series, or might not, but one night i was feeling fanart-y so i went kablam and boombam—so, tadaaa: art :]. i have some ideas for some others i could draw some doodles for, but don’t ask me to draw ur fellas (just yet?). anyways! this was done with ‘the soft falcon pen (bleed)’ pen on ibispaintX, and drawn in the same-ish session as a previous post [https://www.tumblr.com/thewandererh/750429727850889216/i-think-i-have-a-type]

had some good fun drawing this, so who knows maybe ill make another part all in the style of simple doodles that could be fun to max produce.

featuring:

SUL (bald robot boy) - mine and sluggx’s

guel??juno? (floaty flame guy) - Remkae (https://www.youtube.com/@Remkae)

Heart (scraggly winged figure) - Kalei!! (https://www.youtube.com/@Kaleiido)

Heart (toony sweatheart) - @jeweledstone

Mind (silly hair and scary cheek teeth) - @occulee

loved drawing everyone here!! the diversity in styles and designs is very fun to look and and was neat to experiment with! trying out their style while mincing some of my own in, aswell as how everyone fits on the page,,,mwa💛✨. i really like characters with an exaggeration on expression (+ mesmerizing fluid/fire/smoke animation) so Remkae’s mind design/mindification-of-a-character was a MUst. silly eyes. kalei!!’s Estranger anim crew was very cool to look at and draw, and here i experimented with the squiggles which turned out better than how i usually do it. i had watched the animation recently then and that heart came into…mind. jeweled’s style and fellers are just so fun to look at…i just want to hold them. so simple and neat i love them. i love how their heart fits so nicely in here, looking snug but almost smug. and occulee’s stuff and style just had human faces down and their concepts for mind are very cool :]. trying out different ways to draw hair, and with the 6th spooky month out i’ve been maybe unironically drawing in the roy-hair-style?? occulee’s mind has a mishmash-monstermash hair style. foof to get in his face <33

including some refs of the fellas i drew here for anyone who needs them (will remove if asked). i recommend checking all the artists out!! i linked them up above :]

.-.

that is all for now :] might try again/draw more fanart of these fellows but who knows!

[update time]

maybe expect more content from me? today’s my first full day of summer (yesterday was a half day) and it’s been wild and cool so far. great weather :]!! going swimming on monday💛. also ive been practicing with emoji combinations look

🔅⛵️this is a favorite🦋💦

🪸🌻ough this too🍉🍍

🔅☀️emojis are cool whenever more are added i get happy⭐️✨

🔆this is actually the brightness emoji so it doesnt come up when you search ‘sun’—tricky! pretty though. subtle🔅

anyways!! have a goo day and goobye <3

[pastriibunz]

WELCOME TO THE KAI DREWNIVERSE!

“MONSTERS, MAYHEM, AND GODS GALORE! I’VE GOT IT ALL! TAKE MY HAND, AND I’LL TAKE YOU ON AN ADVENTURE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET!”

hi there!!! im pastriibunz! you might know me from the ask blog, @beaniibunzz i ran with my friends, chillibeanos and local-soda-can!

you might also know me for writing the Kai in Hatchetfield series (KIHF Masterpost), an OC insert fanfic series written like a script for the Hatchetfield Saga!

(PS I have an atabook! Leave me some messages!)

but more on that later, i wanna talk about ME >:]

Basic Info About Me:

☆ i think am aroace! 

☆ i'm trying out she/they pronouns!

☆ i have ADD! My friends keep saying i have undiagnosed autism-

☆ i do theater and i was in voice/singing lessons!

☆ i will be Kai Drew’s VA in TKWDLM: Voiced, as well as any other projects she needs a voice in!

☆ my best friends are @chillibeanos, @local-soda-can, and @evnt777!

☆ i like to draw and write!

And that’s me! i was kinda scrambling for things to add, so forgive me if it’s boring. But, i just wanted to get through it so i could get to the fun part. now onto my blog!! :D

i have a lot to say about this silly little blog!!!

note: my ask box is always open! fill it up with whatever your heart desires!

Things To Note:

★ I was grounded for a month, I’m back, but not without restrictions. I have 3 hours of screen time on weekdays, and 5 hours on weekends. This is subject to change.

★ Mutuals, please use the tag ‘#pastrii don’t look’ for posts with: anything very overtly sexual that isn’t written in a comedic tone. I am a sex repulsed asexual, and that type of content is very icky for me. :< [contents subject to change] heres a little guide on how to use it!!

Content You Should Expect From Me:

★ my art, both silly doodles and full pieces!

★ fanfics/drabbles, mostly angst

★ my brain dumpy thoughts i thought were funny

★ oc insert content

notice how that last bullet point is bolded and italicized?

yeah that’s cause it’s super important

practically all the content on this blog will be about my OC: KAI DREW!

now, who is Kai Drew?

and why the hell is she in a shit ton of random fandoms?

well, Kai Drew is the little goober who’s managed to weasel her way into my brain, and 5 years later, she’s STILL. HERE.

she’s also on tumblr as @shxwstxpper!

she has her own silly little lore (to summarize: adoption, accidental mass murder, is god, and then shes inserted into various fandoms im into) that is super long and silly!!! maybe one day ill write about it. who knows!

so expect lots (if not all) of my content to surround around Kai!

speaking of my content…

Important Tags:

⛤ #kai drew 

⛤ #tkwdlm

⛤ #the kai who didn’t like musicals

⛤ #black kaiday

⛤ #bk

⛤ #npmk

⛤ #nerdy prudes must kai

⛤ #the kai drew and bean power hour

⛤ #kai drew and bean power hour

⛤ #kai drewniverse

⛤ #kai in hatchetfield

Kai Drewniverse Related Fandoms:

✰ Bendy And The Ink Machine

✰ Doki Doki Literature Club

✰ Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

✰ Clover 2020

✰ My Hero Academia

✰ South Park

✰ Welcome Home

✰ The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

✰ Peggy Suave

✰ The Kai Drew And Bean Power Hour!

Non Kai Drewniverse Fandoms:

⛥ Ride The Cyclone

⛥ Chad Chad (Chadlings)

⛥ Danny Gonzalez (Greg)

⛥ Psych

⛥ Drew Gooden (Little Stinkers)

⛥ Kurtis Conner (Kurtistown)

⛥ Jarvis Johnson (Unnamed Fanbase)

Important Links:

✩ TKWDLM Masterpost!

✩ Nightmare Kai-me Masterpost!

✩ Blog Boundaries: Do’s and Don’ts!

and that’s all for now! be sure to stick around to see where Kai’s silly little adventures take her next!

bye bye! :]

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

holiday insanity asks (now I've got Virtual Insanity stuck in my head :'D )

what are your thoughts on chess? are you any good?

what about american football - does it tickle your fancy?

when brushing your teeth, do you start with the top row or the bottom row?

carrots: are there any meals they elevate for you, or do they just fill out the roster?

have you ever hugged someone and wanted to never let go?

thoughts on paper? (be it paper-so-thick-it's-almost-card, glossy paper, old-book-paper, freshly-opened-ream-of-printer-paper, tissue paper, fancy-notebook-paper). Have you ever used special paper as part of a specialist role like idk what paper architects use to draw out building diagrams on but I feel like that stuff's gotta be pretty fancy

do you especially like candles?

are there any interactions with birds you especially appreciate, either recently or when you were younger?

any resolutions for 2024?

have you noticed how the clouds at night seem to be lighter than the sky on one side, and darker than the sky on the other side? like a criss-crossing of two gradients.

secret handshakes - are they all their cracked up to be?

when was the last time you smelt the smell of lavender?

do you have a cooking oil of choice?

[ID:

Jonathan Frakes on the set of Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction, looking into the camera inquisitively, while sat at a table full of household objects. The dark and vaguely gothic set behind him is washed out by bright floor lights pointing up at the camera.

/end ID]

started typing a buncha questions & then it started to feel like Jonathan Frakes Asks You Things so I reformatted some of the early questions :D feel free to ignore as many as you like - including all of them if you feel so inclined - hope you have a restful next few days <3

i can always count on you to send asks lol <3

thoughts on chess? hey it's fun, it's a cool game, but holy shit there are some overly competitive people out there. i love creative chess set designs tho.

american football? let me be clear: i grew up in the american south - american football was all anyone talked about. do i understand any of it? no. do i enjoy it? also no. will i take any opportunity to get free food? yes, and so i ended up going to a lot of superbowl parties. i don't like the sport however.

brushing teeth? i actually got up and went to brush my teeth so i could answer this question. turns out i start on the bottom left.

carrots? okay i gotta be honest i have a hard time getting behind the texture of carrots. i think it's because of that thing where a the force to bite through a carrot is similar to how much you need to bite through a finger? anyway the only thing i can really eat them in is something where they match the shape of the food around them (like long strips of them in soba noodles or shavings of them in rice are two things i can get behind)

have you ever hugged someone and never wanted to let go? literally any time anyone genuinely hugs me. (not those silly family greeting hugs - i hate those). but like if someone gives me a hug goodbye, or just out of affection, i physically have to be removed from the hug because i wont let go on my own. (im so goddamn touch starved but we're not gonna talk about it)

paper? christ dude i fucking cherish paper. it's such a mentally ill english major thing to say, but i love the texture of rough paper. i've never used special paper for anything (aside from maybe fancy paper in art class) but i absolutely love homemade paper. it's got such Texture and it's so nice to smell and touch and write in. any paper that isn't perfectly smooth, or has texture is so so good imo

candles? i love candles!! fire is so rad, and i love to use smells as a sensory transition from one project/task to the next. candles, diffusers, gum, and cooking are some of my personal favourite ways to do that.

birds? one of my only memories from when i was younger was talking to a bird outside my window. i just imitated it and it would respond, and this happened all the time. i love birds (as long as they aren't big. fuck that one bird in particular at the zoo) also i fucking love crows.

2024 resolutions? i want to find people to care for. (heads up: deep personal shit) i'm finally in a position socially where im able to be authentic and caring with myself, and now i can turn that care outwards. i've spent the last ~4 years extremely closed off, and im around new people now and want to change that. i don't know if this goal will manifest in a romantic relationship or just deep friendships, but i want to take care of people and make them feel loved in a way i never had.

clouds? YES. dont even get me started on clouds, i love them so much and i find this fascinating.

secret handshakes? i feel like a major part of the handshake is that you show it off to other people, and therefore it's not really secret. i've had my fair share though, so i can't hate on them too much.

last time you smelled lavender? literally right now. like i said, very smell-sensory-oriented, and i have a candle burning right now that has lavender in it.

do you have a cooking oil of choice? i don't use a lot of things that require oil as a major ingredient specifically, so if i just need to have something in the pan i'll actually try to use butter if the food is okay with that. otherwise, i'll kind of just use whatever i have.

[theendofuno]

okay….haii tl;dr: i want to throw myself from a reactor nuclear and besides loving this page dearly keeping it daily isnt helping me with these kinda of thought so ill start a god-knows-who-long hiatus

now *puts a music box version of meltdown by iroha for dramatic purposes* *cleans throat* pretending im talking to an audience its easier for me okay dont judge me :(

i dont know how to write texts but ill try my best to explain everything without going into too much annoying stuff but the text may have a few suicide mentions here and there

okay

i created this page in a very dark period of my life that never went away, it actually worsened everyday. it was supposed just to be fun and games, "oh this character didnt got released this month, maybe drawing him everyday for a month until he gets here will be very funny!!!" *stares at 2 years*

as you can see, i didnt had ANY prepare to keep going for the long we did, but this is 100% not a complain

i really love this page, i really do love everyone i've met, i love having this project with my best friend, but i cant and wont lie: it made me VERY worse than i already was. it made me feel good, it made me feel loved, it made me feel human again, and at the same time it absolutely killed me

having to keep this consistence everyday, having to do good drawings, not allowing myself to do what it was better for my own health just because i didnt wanted to disappoint people with silly drawings when the first week was all cool drawings full colored with a bunch of details, references and etc

i really lost my count of how many times i had a terrible breakdown or even an attempt and my first thought was just "yeah that sucked. anyway i have to work so people will have some art tomorrow!"

and to be honest i dont think starting this page with my friend was…..that of a good idea. i know youre here just for their art. you dont need to lie i know theyre better than i am and you would prefer to see their art everyday other than mine. dont worry the feeling its mutual

but well theyre a slow artist and i wont be the one forcing them to draw everyday, i am the one that can do it and thats what i did for 300 days until now!

but that was something that kinda broke my feelings also cuz im very harsh on myself and keeping comparing their drawings to mine, not only the quality but also the different attention it all got (and sometimes it was almost a 20 likes difference so..sucks to be me ig) isnt doing good for my little damaged brain. its 100% not their fault tho and im not saying it is KJGDKFDK but if im going to be honest then i will

i dont know how to keep going the text tbh,, so,, my point is that im havent felt well since i started the page, and i love it with my whole heart, and these feelings have nothing to do with uno, grand chase itself, or the community (maybe a 2% fault go for annoying people from twitter /hj), im just being a little egoistic and doing this for myself or otherwise i can go completely insane and well. psych wards dont look funny :(

i really feel nasty, an HORRIBLE human being, absolute egoistic trash by abandoning the page, i feel SO FUCKING BAD for not drawing my son, by not updating here everyday and allowing people to see the silly stuff i do, but i guess i got to my breaking point where i just cant keep ignoring my suicide attempts by drawing and keeping my mouth shut (really, my last attempt was so scary i didnt fully recovered from)

yeahhhhhhh

i guess that was it

i pinky-promise i'll try my best to keep drawing and posting everytime i can, but it wont be daily, and it may not be weekly also, but i didnt gave up and i WONT gave up, this page is my absolute pride and joy and i cant just let it go away for a bad mental day. i still love and forever will love uno and drawing him, and i'll be forever happy for everyone i've met and helped me even without they knowing, just by liking or commenting on my stuff

i hope you guys can forgive me for abandoning stuff right now and i hope y'all dont forget me. i wont be mad if you forget me. i'll just be a little sad. maybe cry a little *stares at you like that ( ◕_◕)* but dont worry. its okay.

i'll be trying my best to get back posting daily at least around day 330, but dont put high hopes. please. dont expect much. bigs chances i'll be just dropping a stick man with a heart ahoge saying haiiiii and go back to posting silly ugly art

[benzedrine-calmstheitch]

just saw some troubling posts in a discord server I’m in but I don’t have the brain power left to engage in direct conversation re: interpreting another person’s text and responding so I’m just gonna throw my thoughts here :

you cannot, CANNOT, let your anger and fury at Greg Abbott’s heinous policies and positions transmutate into any position that blames him for being paralyzed, argues he should not receive financial compensation for getting paralyzed, or any other form of ableism against him. I mean, I guess you can, arguably, but I find it an inherently unethical stance, and it also undermines any sort of argument one could make to be in favor of universal healthcare and UBI (which I also find to be baseline ethical things to be for, more or less).

Yes, he supported the tort reforms in Texas that put limits on damages plaintiffs can receive, which makes it very unlikely a future Texan unfortunate enough to be in a similar situation that he was in will be able to have the same level of financial security via a settlement (although I do think it’s worth noting that he had no direct involvement in the passing of these reforms - both of these were done by Legislature). And it is fucking garbage that he doesn’t think other Texans deserve financial security in the face of injury and loss! And yes, there are nine million other awful awful stances he has, and having him in a position of leadership is not just abhorrent on principle but incredibly dangerous. These things ARE infuriating and terrible! He sucks really!

But the thing about universal healthcare is that it is universal. The principle behind it is that no one should have to worry about healthcare costs for any reason. To be in favor of healthcare for all, you must, must recognize that, short of unconditional access to healthcare (as well as related accessibility needs, such as equipment, renovated housing, in-home health care, mobility aids, etc etc), anyone suffering such a devastating and life-altering injury at least getting a settlement that takes care of these ongoing costs, is a good thing. and to be in favor of, again, universal, health care, is to sincerely want that for anyone. no conditions!

Being furious at him is, frankly, how we should feel right now. But that fury simply cannot mean deciding he is to blame in any way for his paralysis. First of all and most importantly, because conceptualizing disability in terms of “blame” just feels like a really, really dangerous thought. This tie back in to the fundamental idea that universal healthcare means exactly that, universal, but is a bit deeper also. Even if the actions Abbott took that led to his injury were ill-advised (and I’m not saying they were, more on that in a moment), he still should have full access to care, because the idea that someone can become unworthy of access to care through their actions is troubling! When we draw lines, someone always has to decide where it is, and if we can draw it once, someone else can redraw it later, and this time you might find yourself on the wrong side of it. We must, must, refuse to allow “fault” to determine access.

Also, and this is just me being pedantic, but I have seen some variance in the recounts of what exactly happened, and I have also seen folks taking those summations and shifting them, just a bit, to make it easier to find him at fault and thus deserving of his disability (this also touches on the whole other concept of disability itself being considered Less Than, which is ofc gross, but I’m not going to dive into that aspect). This is something we all need to be so, so careful about these days. Yes, it does fit your emotional response better if he was out jogging under a big tree while it was actually storming, which I think we can all agree is a Silly Idea. But the little bit I have read says he was jogging after it had stormed; ok, maybe a small difference, but are you telling me you don’t know a single person who would take a run the morning after it had stormed because it was still too dangerous? Suddenly his actions seems less silly and more everyday. Also I read that the homeowner (who himself was a wealthy attorney, which also complicates things!) had been made aware the tree was rotting a year and a half beforehand, and the inspector who told him this recommended the wrong treatment for it. So we have gone from “god this dodo went jogging during a storm under big trees well yeah of course one fell on him” to “oh actually he was just out for a run the day after a storm and a rotten tree that had been improperly treated happened to fall on him in a very bizarre coincidence.” and for the record, I have almost been taken tf out by a tree randomly splitting in two and falling while I was on my daily walk on a sunny day. no idea why and it scared the bejesus out of me, but like. it weirdly happens!

but my point in being pedantic is this : facts fucking matter! changing them, no matter how slightly, to fit the narrative that matches your emotions, is not the route to take, because you end up taking a kind of fucked up stance in the process. this is what we as a culture are fighting so, so much right now. it’s so hard to hold on to nuance, to contextualize and allow for complexity, when we have all been trained by twitter and tiktok and fucking clickbait to be sensational and brief. but my friends, we have to retrain ourselves. we have to do better. We cannot paint in broad strokes, because we will lose the ability to focus on any one thing we can push back on and fight for.

So yes, be angry at Greg Abbott. Be fucking FURIOUS, really. But please, please, know why, and stay focused on that.

[libidomechanica]

Pat through your leap thy beauties

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

And each other, sister Cosimo announce   … the mountains untwining? Ceased together   languish een. Was lightens mute in purpose like away; the true love that. Call a summer the day where their hands which we need,   thou’s bright in the yearning. The movie screech   itself to do. Me are Altars, and rope that starr’d you reproduce, you knee, At this ill-wresting. But seem a lord shall I knows!   The soldier-land o’er my Julia clouds the   earth tilt and her fare wooden green neon. When in loue, Marie, feend, yondering cold, and blink back. Because to be conferr’d with   scarce fair Syrinx in it. He bad cast or   two that words and I’ve to me, your virtues that springs, the wiser them, bleeding, I?

               2

She stone jaw of tales that incarnate limbs   the thing walk with grieve the gather come, deare,   and that’s what’s fate weight forth of between near stood and be all know in my fresht, they please, to the worse a bit of girl whom she was   not lustie Loue and bolted joined moan. Perhaps,   whose sad face: but prudes for five month: so, boy, you’ll finding to take mouse, and kissing, my descended? Could be trumpets, secret   hair mail and bar the gavel: esperations,   that you. Come, like thus letched and bower rang with my best barouched a thunderbold; brothed him through we inhabits;—   not say the natural love me from home, he   horses averted praising is said his sair, and neutralize her death for this game.

               3

Lord, its account it sorrow and nip each   suits the midnight in blowing full in part,   loue to a dog won’t dislike, and the hills thy lieu of dogs! The soul move may sway, because believeth and vials fire—brake him   summer’s friend: this bone, o’erspread of great, to   come have draw—his, elbowing the bell in there—thus ouer me, Louise, bright appetite! Maybe it shadows like a Mickey Finn   and people: this, t’ have looked like blue will   brings which Maud, so that came may flow is ruffle sight if our brother commits sweet: and a’ the black Edward’s daught, and natural a   parried, no near you! Is its printed daught   excellence; other head, or your point. Nobody nurst, trembling new knights, secret hair!

               4

And yet the Witch. Quiet compliant breath   in out they stole among roses, and fussed   us. Your animals: an old indeede than aughters, each the endless the space before I give me we’re no sinks beneath her   love speak with her mind? He set up the night,   that, if love, and shunned with a flow’rs sorry I could deride any care, carriage, and enough the price to despite of blood on   a boy feet, and make the canker-worm will   grind on newer proofe shiny things are land drooping like kelp clings great men far as bent, and barred.—For oh, her broke? You art jealous   of glass was gone, because of Cockney speak.   Up this breaking made a sunbeam: near head, and his pretty lad, sate bloom of her loved.

               5

Thy those look into my son! To get above   all, the boated Rhine: ye gloom, taking   and of the animals. I wish to do our lust. Low we sportion: renegadoes, transfixed his cunning term of brow; an’ she   will, oh, it is sing the freedom? Horace   he lips in the universal frame of which Sense, and the from the sea ground by there. They hate; and the fondest with hereupon   it all adore their Institution bore,   she can look back. Nor doth sharply, and barred I takes coming hair So I might else to see that bitter peep and sway mate sick of   thought lay carven gleam of heart. One kiss you   say—one kissable string, marriage? But see the blowes, such sought nowe sleep from heavy!

               6

I say, cash for the would the dint of sunrise,   a lightful greedy choice—That dealt the   heavenly he forty-five, free from harmony, from bedded to use in the hours in growing court is so great with prudence   and free and brush? But it so the sun went   maid, beating hero the delayed they talk like a syre, a shall I die. Too dullest guides at ever of their privilege. Askance   and ache from Boston Common shock’d, and   him whip on silly cates the one along mucks at Christ whose her the royal trumpet’s seem all—this worn with sanctimonious   friend at his Saint there expenses of a   within, that was’t that wings, up the Bard refused to her deare, care our childishness air.

               7

Alas, if this, company! Takes. And high,   or gemmes of sin on a languish, and   say: I means. Myrtle feet views; and in a mother not in this straw-fire tongues, there’s see things. Mate sic please—having on you put   await counsels tried, each had a wealth of   the taverna crammed, thousand the baser sunset, because she convent, play once gies to struck—I’m tired. East to presence adored   false from me, there was been the royal   hart: there we lay thy powre had all’s conduct him down so bad, for the center. His neck light. I have him out upon our cheek, before   that would never sages and bullied   the proud of the castle, half-legend, or tie up into those death’s at her nigh gripe!

               8

My body … carry of man’s selfish, nor   followed my hand, and bowe, which never half   impart; which to all my Julia cloth’d forty- parson up, do—harry out abhorr’d: how shine, and take the prevaricious maiden   Aunt a little man broken entangled   in the laddie! A desire with to do and breath, the would not come away; the pollen from fame of a far-off the moon,   thou believe at once would, I am   becoming or a kind seene. Long ere the felt, thou wrong them and stray dawn and whose loosening her static crest, that sportant mournful   is the patience and I know hollow perhaps;   but had a light the bows do not, beseech the world let us sel’; naebody!

               9

—An’ O for nation—a monstruck up to   tempt together words what he laught in thing   the Abbey-ruin an Yuie to pay as is not lovely made up indifference. And ring, now, on the wickets to me, as simple   both his horses for soul and smoking   backward the bit of dark creep, all you shake young, weeks are kisse, and breeches’ pockets to dance under you reproue, is free miller would   be assott: for head, wherein in love. And   pains, between ye; yet t is class, in all the fire-balloon roses, become tell of time—to quite small into me to pains; in   the was with pride and did bounded exactly   cowards of missed my necklace and breeches’ pockets and play on me, my being.

               10

Lord, thou are little, serious child, the   name on the diff’rence.—If you laughing at   he long’d then look out the red played sheltering tongues, to should say, minds of somewhere the addition, or weakness, when stay! But what   tardy mill-horse, the hope hope to a   shutterly unashamed like awe, when I was reading ballats, Maro’s casement of that I hast to be. By force histor to   Love in love it with clip enjoyment at   his net? And I thy gift, each to imply as I like other, she tale? For I’ll say what is the mine eye wax dim, merits; and   art. Children tearest faculties, wi’ the   throwne wild killed the sprung. But to you for me, next the coal fire the trouble valles’ battle.

               11

A genius or under look at come   forever, and tenor harmony, frantic   joy the drunken pure, that matter whose doubted fortune’s the Grand Canyone whole like stranged all fair, an’ chiel sae clear greet princess   soot behold meet this mouth with tremble; in   the price of call where-through the red by Charlie, her loose the store: but not your fresh for a sort vnto the earth is a wing sprawled twice   to things the fragrant but to something I’ve   remembered was strangelico’s too much his hollow on true imagination and count of one tutor as I using   and the moonlight and art. At the new   emotionless was flesh lily, true, my sock of tax and the hearts are lay, he waves so!

               12

Youth, give my wife put on me, then, and seen   mine eye twilighted and he salt tide, a   sweet sang a little time to subiect to another approbation urging about Juan’s pause she’s my dear day! Two right over   than leave my darling, replied an unshut   up a passing thy go the plastic miss’d the Deity swore his see in meek— the despair, dapples in handsomely in   find wisdom of tourneys he said: Go up,   as I know why sake of all beseem’d they? Added to the addition, and keep and his breakfast o’ gear, to the won’t stuffs, there   fallow for her for young Chevalier. From   star flashing else was yet I fearless wine- red with a crew our soul and to terms, but.

               13

Thee climb, a dreamed of love, and at thy jealous   time of madness amazement up with   his Greek which power, and love is not puff of girl whom then may wither choice would let he was, but white as free, who furthens every   hed: and painted down blood! Maybe I   am the poor monk out up the people hart least I heart lou’d have town. Her so, lendingly—a greater such a statesman the   summer, the sweet be it be our cullions;   we soe, as wrote to my vertigo for the ooze of a slight, how fainting thy sound mine. If it mean! What were some great! And gave   the cleareth loss of me six month of without   with her happens the little hall flower range she water dwelt upon the day.

               14

Or foxlike a few friendship lies to see   that bitter’d my being fence; other’s kind   of loue to when the once morn of reason, in my those ruddie gem-like a hurrying: at leap, and brother Dearie; let us no   men and a water decencies—rather.   Love that morning the Long Knives’ getting grace had set from yours you’llmountains kiss, and rage! To poor girls’ dormant all! Her nodded in   the price thee—beholding, describe her broken   how mad, and our planet. I never was are eerie? With and everlasting right window from then dream thread through the would   says prove, from Boreas scatters wrath blush on   the throat, and of the magnanimity of thee, to constitution is a sight?

               15

What does that hath glory shoes that was in   springs, and be slave one this know me, and   most he wrinkles gold, and the name of a wild white hand everywhere it does Love speak ill a sunbeams are scarce his fleck and dream,   the world for by a languid bred a candle-   light poet’s simplicitie breath happens the wind,—and on the great discover the son a good govern the kids hae sweet is   like an unshed then a bore, ne wote I,   whom we can account of her looked rasp sound high shedding, an’ down; we both too,—with shewe, fell be done is the winds kiss the blouse I   won’t yours crafty soldier went to pry, the   morning thrown a milking, you wilt be wait them toll alas! Yes, I’m a beasts, a fools!

               16

To lived, and thin, the touches the sting. A   little sponge soaked forest by bed and not   thy heard to bed: and so drives its shirt; he dark of troubles, this but babble, flung like his. But at let the beat, but all was lightless   soot beguiles encount wi’ naebody   is the listen with the sits amain: seduce here you shall not let’s heard, touch on the dead, long wandered arms, but he restless   loving to crown merits; those by looking   is a ladder! I’ll pain, it’s the storm; in least part; nest we see anear. Children deadly fray, this locked that monition along   to fuddle along washed the peer: when she   this here are like a is for summon up remembered and low! Settled for you saw.

               17

I know of a cornflowers of draw— his, .   An echoed from a hymn loud the line after-   loss: somethings the closed it twirls and hot, and made the door. Too often in the goes black and she wind blush so much my wrath a   full of it—thou shall for their showed to be   sail’d, he, or how way boy who tuned forests— greaten with the heart. Over, despite, I feel I say? How does allow. If this spilt   for the wrinkle, or Vileness, there, you   dost lonely night of certain another head of tale children dear, was give us the depth of a huff by a sniggering   into push a winged a thundertook his   face easy now which I priz’d, and so droppings began, the sacred left. Traced by me.

               18

I’m the roses gules a part; nest Allan!   That play’d the book! Teach other humanity—   must makes his so we cannot myself with and you, you only a friends upon the would blind my birth the raw quiver   of the smoke that lasts and only good up,   so softling on it was alarmed, he can afraid, you can find to tell mind? Kill the was broad and kisses to peace? Upon they   shaws and night she took his Jenny to ready   Maias born; seal’d town, an’ twenty hourly she braid nothing full of monk, God then I am quite of the vines, she walk that soup?   The spurred from any male Mrs. Absent   out of love, thus far,—whether or no: it was who complete, there and was old inn-yard.

               19

And sighing the has a children chattered   Lilias—played away love-knot if   any fingers push to find her eyes and builds her air, juan admir’d. Streams are, nor fool who is no hypocrite vpon a piece. Alas   for the old woman! From New York mail   and I trussed by Potemkin; others’ arms, but them. Go, six months and somethings of summer. To the infant bread? That I’d   like to our children desire shall when   near, for awhile body. Long ages of nobler pavement when I ready this form whatsoe’er suspices of the Southey know   he surface sorrow frae nane, through to win   height in right, fresh for higher: when you a death. Soon my Angelico’s to see me.

               20

It does not suspect. Surely, angeling   to tempt together heathe. Saint soueraigne part   of innumerable for four days the poor broke. Past my heart, how hath score; and, lassie, when all our wall, all our gown with the   vomits he cast thy burnie stone and the horse,   no hypocritus, which miracle of brutal as it Then the place, whose that window, and shot him through not only Maud was   whole most of except menting but it was   scatter of flow on the way when but rejoiceth wing wound one all these late as bad, mad slip of dove’s desire shall phantastic   ice chest being the accident to   blot forth as a toy globes they are, caress he leavenly wonderstand then. His way?

               21

The world lets droppings, and who did not leaue   to subtless us away; I am   frae her makes the yellow eight now grave so the human grandfathere’s a Religion is through my tear to importations   leaue to see a mosque sable and how I   please to see what’s a hand the bell? Your betted; they hate to the sphere, how shadows doth my silken twisted him beyond me, dearly   snow, well faith. Look for als aforests—   great Princesse sweete, for his beat, but there! Flower as the sure never silver-seatedly, in purest in: then ev’ry grasses   are, but mine on with their veins. How could not   dig so much ye be, as tooting: help! Without you missile with a man’s fingers were.

               22

He torrent bound her gives that she second   still-kept close, his way the bloody birch life,   which I have what bindeth for four travel— which needs door. But stepped daily light, when your face Then you count these acted, my lord, thou   don’t desire within thee purple and   seem’d them better will? One day hours; the was being sland all the pasture, and shake yon cherries her brain outrun here before his   death will, smiles of him in the feud, these, his   came up naked and shucks it so. Longing ascended, quoth tell you over than came had seemed as well away? That scorne in the   sea? Midnight, which brought of smoke, as I enter,   city. To youthful ash, whatever knee so rough hoary now just as I see!

               23

Of all the brand as it and them. Dying   to get our climb’d at those lost. And now the   man angers again; lest saints,—I love were shine wouldst tell not lovely Rose,—tell the foreheaded cheater of thy poor somethings   serve where is not lose is love-knot one third,   touch of ripened to provoked, as her transfuse the crown’d with homage seems too lately because she wear on the plasma, listening   the languish beyond corpse infant breast. Clowns   are the learned a feast we rose is ale ins are Nature have plugged him sing miles, and husband not take: for lovemaking   simple together her own blood. Have   done thou with delight who scour trumpet’s heart grow is done, and botherwise to attends.

               24

Of the like Peacocks behead like the would   soon. At laden with stella alone; a   touches. A highwayman came up naked fall or water way; but from harmony, frantic joy there and ships’ guarded bay colt   with it is bosom’s some have made Catholic   eyes fire-ball, no blush the spurred that will be here. Came of the Baltic’s power add souls of it. I many a sky palely   and coal fire. Who lived it means and themselves?   At this; and ill. Windchime in mine, I cease itself, the though the gods, through to spent: twere point and learn my hand it always of day.   Love died in a roses made oldest sate   blood on their privilege. But steward from base describe,—that white when I scuttle time.

               25

And aboue: each women terrified they boat   and fine; breath for ever again, thou have   the dresses he way the horse, with misse from the torments; let Lisa go, answered in pure rage, silver bark and the woman, you   shame on her hundred with thing settled frost   shews the Prior, as I was—the problem scrunched tear the rains get about thy put it’s not lover, painted on a bunch her art;   rue on his wine which field of burnt they put   thy wife. Life, and, epic, homicidal; and giue my rage, clench of rosebud set, first bone, but the shrouded eye’s swiftly like a   bit of mine eyes gave mischiefly what blood.   Tho pumie still, beside, which for the cobbles encounterpane and so wonder you, Mag.

               26

Fortune—range shoulde haunted into its taut   the was you dancing could Fate sic pleasured   at least seeing Hope Lake with As you can’st thought the will doth endorse her choir hair and yonder the night.—Sweet, more’s and   entire as hollow would have gone home   I have prated at? Askance sorrow of her human grew a long music and died: it is, and worthiest kiss your hand, friend,   to the long details all the bed-furniture—   a dozen and owners ever one and o’er than aughter; but I lay. Shaken be, yet, I’ll learning against Cossacque sabres,   in their pair, dapples in all think what;   while, but I thou my paradise, for his merchandized his meaning roguish een.

               27

I’m not says he swell once morning made its   dirty and new soil to say as welcoming   at their sunk down hunger. Love speak in the beauty from sin; but the skull, the is were by the vermine’s sphere, and the hours,   which we wall, by his for the presently?   That will come had I beheld the cowslip of one or snakes the whole of our thou, when you have built and thou believed be: vnited   eyes were than instead of distress me so.   And what her tragedy, is most desertion: renegadoes, her than a wound in Catholic eyes … ally, you did. Gave felt single;   all the shore: the rapt in vertue artem:   but you we’ and tours, hussar and so wimble, and dreamt a dry outward of clichés.

               28

A crowd. Dew sat incarnate limbs stiff as   she sea, and still like the first defeat, but   she love yourself, the might retree haunted both the judgment and sitting pastures ane; come, and unsmooth, so sad, I shall from above   that god of that’s the strange expect, as Philly,   she’s shield it to youth, and for we will me through has paltry she fountain, we driving day, my old, and the other with the   day? To keeps chalk, a wood; or once did not   could take a new world of a tree unfolds yet in the should be so, my joy butcher’d that ole Ace down there was freehold than   leaves his banners, volcano, o’er a victories   and night, and the cleanly. The rain of rivulet on your proue, is free, to place?

               29

So said, fifteen sparkling roguish een.   When more betwixt the breasts, rang with gentlemen.   Kill her eyes class was streets and all, oh, herself! Back I shouldered he: for Willye, I am blow, but busy pointed—that fellow!   Between the tabloid cruell her on the   peeping? From Iceland then go; and as stung; which o’er thy looking understands untwining? Ball dance to find him now like tanners,   but follies, and the might a license of   the own in the with a bless you tossed with lying throught, she was gone unders drive one, since Adam, and the spirals, and follow   little deep, when she wind’s horses fortune!   To stare of lips: and he shores beyond me, blackbirds shops twilightens ever hurt you.

               30

Your hope, and nip each women, ’ fitted, no   news to unseen, but happely I shall   must I with deliberty destroyd! Where the pine for here youngest disemburdening silver likewise. Accuse he said smiling   Southey possessed with Allegories   curious han light of mine our way too: I take awake, that scorn has complete: suppose I’ve love, much more to attend us,   whose the sovered a whole among holy   love were to Spain: and somewherein in a secret wedding, up acres after airy paralytic’s nation of   life, for a mortal whirl, a changed, and sweet   is a than what the doors: but silence vailed as if the death, smiling roguish een.

               31

On sea; and her mine by my mind: would scornice-   wreath for one, how holla for us.—   On through not the lay in the Princesses, the souls of guilty gates, confess. Over then, forfeits, althought, would dislinked with   his bread? With thing on the white dress. The deathless   the ones on and seemed about him furst; delightens eyes hae lo’e naebody turn the pouted like those cheeks, exhaustion. His   eyes were tedious seat when my kin   another, were on Juan was well of think of painting, Julia’s heavenly eyes … I will comes to road! And bask in the ground of their   spite of Being great, as well; naebody;   nae gowden shall death scoped away. Do not zealous ouerwent for me are about?

               32

Models in, or weaknesse clear deliberty   destroy the ring look’d, and griefs, and battle-   clubs from me. A shall nights of art, though self! According birds in ghastly galleon to move, and the sleep; an’ twenty years   the knew not that have himself it dislike   Horace ane an’ twenty house; every perform in thy white-wall’d broke: what Fortune, the celestial line, man, the candle drops, but   a bard in your hand we and reward straight   a quiet slumber mans wealth but those petal struck—I’m thicke, with fact, throat skewere all my doubt as pale; breake it all! Through thee better   highland the know at thou, that her limit   too with knobs around Wit: o let be my darling lope to pry, the dear fetter.

               33

And or eyes through the litter banks of an   apple, the worship lies that slips but prudence   he mad with a friend the early summer all, thou shall our Titless fleet, and religion grown leave the when my plains are about   you have to speak of digestions howling,   in handsome temptations our Love a yoke are books, where drawn; an’ she knot, thus maid, in the the same to fall as a Queene, with   it is men grow ignore it all is artless   woe was a young? A quiet need to have make in taking there lay carved the painterested snake, and court the brick, we threwe:   but you that: a petticoat, or old Fate   no more their Lucifer kisses of anger, pain that she face which I praise it fly!

               34

Of cat or sand, having my fingers tales   cold, and furthermometers shoulder finger   proud spirit, had a faces, other clay, trodden most soft god of all the smiling its shake your job and power o’ thee   socks, all the rest. Oh, in the face and prunes.   Though to instant to bed: and and one discover. Is the gray, when gusty go that al war; and on Fortune’s tedious sternest   some to the had a mothers and fine   like pearls upon the new pay it thy love, let us no passion, depth of monk, the good of a silver. The honest of his   to our own truth askance thaw’d be wise that   resolve the maiden and throne into the middles are gone, but Anguish een. All last!

               35

Close, that prease, not them, see your at leaps o’   clamour best just on Juan, to blaze themselves   for trots by all the laughed an unleafed trembled by mewered bites, tears, and blow, but the bitter now I things, up the captive   air, as I have knuckle that word to   Cologne, She rest. Of Honye is my hands whispers of his will held of the torturing abroad and the when did not and Where’s   praise of force had hang out, each sit: od’s streth   the was it impair’d to her all with their better gone. He pausing and have toll. Day, there a garden terrified t’ other   side! They listen with delight, fresh love speared   nook glow light; a double world—ah me! The tribe her few, he town.—No matter: Fy!

               36

They are sight—not say: few you, malcontest.   While thought, to town; we are dead, he cared a   struck up a maid;—then comes they ken nature might me: I shrieks are forgot, o, sweet self, then na whale riverse’s large, breathless please,   and there’s and loose to do. Thy rural   atmosphere bulbs of they gagged a Saint took to force her fare; and if I go mad, I stare; for we maching groan—how it’s fiddlehead.   Why, and made that you, you’re madness,   howsoever deare taughter find hid from there scars, Priests, all my day, and maid, I wink, the deaf that he glory to jeer: when I horses   sweetness, your old of this but the passed by   the sandaled fire than mortal, but is the broken stript as fear’d mistake, and art.

               37

Which green the bumpers and decision came   riding—Petulant glow, that’s art, I’ve not   faithless air. Towards and now? Saints that charg’d with oxytocin order; and gone! He gaoler, long flutes: it is son and near you had   lawless this I read and magnificancell’d   now can’t I trust he world the whisper in Man. Yet I shoulde haughter, as the church on me her die. The soul revolves, in ever,   and Becket’s kind only harmony,   the first I bear; they trick! When I using throught, and the thy bones with sucked as acids rounding her. These last; and some back-hoe. The   every breast, having about somewhere red   by my ain. Out, tramp o’er kin a years away, with thou love, the way to grasses drop?

               38

Ye gloom, and tears, I would so well, fair Syrinx   are thundertaken of the white curtain   her air that, fresh punctures a storm; in the world acquaint, uninstructured to feast with never my heaven, down and Art:   I could trace and hole, and man woes: for you   thing, bury the light, from her Dearie; and cupp’d his a rose whole womanhood and his ills the hold me thy sweet an afford to say   it fast! Shall her heart grow and have bee was   not preaching and the thou present to make breast, since to quite face, at men’s head bread of a battle like to be forbid men the   other. Photograph they hearded guise! Ae   kings, endures I is found the very small loss, and fiercest thousand yet their better.

               39

My noble heard there but soone away are   just for me as must one about you call   not constitute for a sparkling in the claret velvet scabbard! But Judas to me recovers echoed fruit indeed   to government over had a school excels,   the motley followes once more that: a petty sure, where it festreth share her, bring lock with our with wandring her. And now   as there—the shoe or seen throne in the what   more his medium make broken how swiftly like a blood, but now, they music and bolted to use in alleviating   to the pageant shape and rearward, till the   soldier drank from thee; and heart beating as to suit turn, some on the tugged lamb kebobs.

               40

That, if youth, and his flesh and from the Britons   describe: we wilbe wrote, I ask? More and   now I by the moon, unless best close only then her, and deformer, a smock, to the ooze of you in come when the day begin   to folk—remember, betrother the   spider cheek all not leaving. Hung just to prove no green in the Proctor’s praise, blue. But Juan flickers are for any slight. Grace can   pretty you there from you want or blasted   cheek when it. A crowd, and they grows cold deride any comparison to goe away with which share he usual by the   broad watching—his held out to climes of what   campaign with the door; I trussed to her night hand in. The sting our Love’s unbound eyes.

               41

Mourning, which opening dumb looks into   a trifling roof an icebox had bear my   fairer the double behint that has found of a pleasing at the white sure little wild white-wall. All, praise? Traveled, half-legend,   one from the junior his rouse I lay. And   hinted at his hollow was never an and sword to explain—If I missiles ever I’ve been ye; yet polish seldom sunny   wall, to sit and lanter, ancient is,   comes thought it always what consolate with thee, which, and doubt it weightens with thee my aunt, and the monsters black. For silk will like   Peacocks behind head and I know we hopeless   like cloudy film over in thee? Let then do move, thou dost long ages the sea?

               42

Thumping with a fellow perhaps a noose,—   it screeches’ pocket black-eyed daily like   your little Leila gazed, motives, because shepherd’s guilt though! Except it went to win which shrink coffee and o’er that now from our   each the knot, I touch the through infinite   horse his you shall bliss highwayman came riding— Go, love, through puddle; hurrah! Their cared windy should the humming lope that worn they   listening a prettiest weep on silly   comparisoners release. Soul has a glow’d with his chewed-off soul is abroad and smother it all the chest wherein the river,   whence and the wise throat incarnate   lieutenant’s then, the heap what under at ever, you waiting to their Institution.

               43

With clip enjoy they grows endur’d, as gone,   the heart, of love. And structor.—Whether her   head horse her or negotiation alone day and in the redacted. The has a crowd, the who shine from midnight, soone by   the flower o’ the grass after his   Agrarian light love pit of linden blossom off the twilight’s horses! Then, they gave me them the on his young Chevalier. Loud   clangs of thy should builds a ghostly gallan,   but eerie? Yes! When be, to do out at least, and the moor, and the will grass; and reaches, says: altho’ we pain—surely, as I   am become qualified vague and both   that hides, there I, whose through the set to unseemly, see than the North. Hand as say, cash.

               44

Laughing I’ve breasts, and then, however before   because of breath ingross thee? His pretence,   as theory. Taketh at the weary’d with slipper way, come the waves riding the hill, thought like an uncommend. Like tumbling   either drop down the blush it the town,   chid he keep you we’ and dead half the son a god invent’s asleep; whose fiery like and fause somethings, the fury of things   beloved that would cease; whether roves   and the Britons, we can body so ill, whose double doubt as may with his game: imagination of moonlight in tight ears   since call a slight or thee, he’s not wear or   nipple still I know the clichés. Sometimes doth still, the was giving the happy face?

               45

I wish to the mild Baillie, her disowns   are less. And dusk? The deep enough he tulips   of sand, having, and thus: all the earliest to play’d the obvious Gothic school play on a dropping, for trots by a   wretch, with circle and all all thin my case   than this, curl up into the sessings by a poor dreams with a not paid beames with slipped—how you say. And through their followed love!   And thro’; but for my heard and sorrow frae   her one with the midnightly determin’d was new wide chance of a discover—all the other veins, or reach, O Spring! With   more the z, painterested into die   came strove to face great attends. For than inspire turning by, and me to painting song.

               46

The doth move seems but miss you all! The   insomniac listening ascended him the   trumps of moonbeams are in all be recommended in night, oft in ever is listening but I who count of scarce fatigue of   the had trodden more the oldest foes count   fair, not at griefs have letting skies from harmony, from basest with Time began, they presently sing being musical: sweetest   tremble heart is bleeping to hoarse wild   woman, who would inn-door. Within their Institute of the speak for sunny, is freezing conceits, and actions and must a fire-   ball, her hails are fled by you see why thousand   sorrow and hey, sweet the way. And the shining? She hear everythings, as her Dearie!

               47

She was none of its and much their clay, and   wires and dusk, we rose betters echoed fruits   own back to my body hurt our you more thee to death’s worn and bred with there, God make in which the window and of thy wife, who   know the said, I was a cornefully   knows! Outside house! When I say? In the lily, breath thered shall passion and edicts out, trim as a pot of. Periphery   grace, I cared at the Prior: when you men   with a strive. When I read of call abroad the paint god gave me what she isle, where he made.—That mind white and times do aspire love   at eight, and at least of many man speediest   the snowcap gleaming: and who waste, and catch at though that I chaunce to a horses!

               48

In thinking beyond there. And wisdom of   the cowslip at us away; So said   her than tongues of his bills, is no hang the west; shut with everywhereupon, i’ll tak dunts and lawless wretch thus falline; brothers   have no more than a flag in, the other   your hopes fire, so in the may avow; and my tears, of consort will the little like the other voice of collects bestowes   night be merry, when a pieces. Was   given, a new and halls and most or to have court, love I vow thine; brother. But, heavy hours; o the time home—as much as sweet   a flow; when noon his o’er the twinkle   inspirals, and stitchen ope thy name if we can’t unless lead, half-unquench behaviour.

               49

Said, ‘to those cheek, and I do, when your eye.   The tip of pleasure tongues the you fair, and   my painter must be my noble clot. Are so pre-occupy. But moved for oft maid, Dear Cloe, hope, and put this purple valley   lightnings of sunrise, and years as if think   of picture. But keeper, ere boring veins, melon, but’s screech thus kings began, and passion put away? Can static of reason’d,   the moor, a heart sorrow the Shepherd’s daughter,   plaiting-brush? And still and over; though but in the obvious woman fed by I’ll say I? As from end us, exhaustion.   Soul pass the city. But the twigs well,   to the West, these red place of darken, which is dead? Eight that breast some kind blewe. Alas!

               50

The kitches, don Julia, wild while I speak?   Let Fortune’s trying, an’ twenty, Tam! Of laying   thrown he has twa sparkling from any things with wonderer much, after thing thorn, when go, to the wurst, some veins of they   tried me crie; I wish we suffer’d my darling   mine at restore of anyon, still to see: why shepherd-sang but I taste describe,— that is not yet so please we heavens,   and Love a blacker Will Shakespeare doubles   as acids rough not serue, my life be know my breast went fragrant glorious stone the toward thus melts intrigues of the blabbing the   monstruck the torments a garden grow i’   the loins engender your long flat When antiphonary’s going the breast!

               51

Sick lands which in lover, an’ she stuck her   proud spill time never a privilege. The   nails are sighing that’s the corner; yet clouds the light, which these poor devotionless desires, victimized what you wilt; if ever.   Age, for a delight, breathing came on   his fancy, which my hands, the silly bogles, who wear or not that festerday? I saw an ancient danced light, and vtter my dart!   Summer aspective can look on the mortal   in hears were away boy would now the truth an eraser’s face on me, on the door. As the breathed her fame; in the night, and   Y your rusty picture. And so all not   that it was a doubting is its end us, rosy is this charge, and any less.

               52

While by hundred the went at the would be   won’t you and stillness, and stood against now   and voyce, so brittle of Clay, trodden grace can he had my most dear childhood watch thee; with youngest hems but went my heart, trading   on it as the first ye which chokes a   shuddering cold do! Then, when you by him swear on the paid our Peeretreat! As there’s rites will growling, or though I can reach’d sigh   like lemonade. From the York, lying to   his to be as one whole in table maid of a piece … there Philly? Describe,—that was fault curse sublime: image shoes dark red in   place on me by moonlight, whose deaf and all   the brings through the wild kill her front doth no long alone, and noun, on a world—ah me!

               53

Brighter, wholly unexpect, as the rose   great stung. That dewly water slave one, or   sunk down upon a magic like a system I shall beloved in its at he rest! The out of the good bell tongues, guides all   of dream. Which never come away, cash, such   power above! Way to roll, who, when the halo would be alive other; but charm. Sight were not love, or Vileness among   thighs? Nor be to go over the gentle   Maud and fathere sported the future. A part; nest Gothic light hand its five breath of June but nought foot, go a dell. Doth strain lava,   fans of frosts for devotion, as I   know and with light, and silver and in her night with her art; tis his flurry, as hope.

               54

Your hand rumbling Doues, guide phiz of you turns   of trouble valles’ battle’s flash, and a wound   murmured, said, Those same princess any the lived it me in the porcelain mean. Of mine, jaded, but honours crumbled by fat   bawd, in you only Maud? Over the goes   out as I write! Petty Ogression puff of orange the attic and was born in the curtain the mine: I could traced it over,   that hideous hand, maybe, bloated   one tutor, rough all used idle how the will, his highland of amendment, and ungrateful scroggie gleaming, charlie, he’s none this   pick once wish to God, a soft and production   had no bar, onwardly credit carnival, and Loue and quaint, uninstructor.

               55

But, by a think ever the transport,   however I climbing congenital perdue;   for but charm, impass thy long the inward show how often I am blow, from time, that in ev’ry graces, or except   by birds joined legs and yet besides all the   never must on Juan say? If your lift a pleasures free and yours crumble, flung like a shudder’d, as I descendants thou are   mutual Victim’s shirt; he retains among   has gay gift—Oh when my fingers did I known. He scarce could not do time. To woe to pine, as temptation; his beds and some and   bolts in the darkness as amber-colour   turn’d hears made little time, and caughter, and the streamlets no passion on it to do.

               56

And I am become where young over   hair mail;—but of dust, whose skies. Till do not   dig so callant alkali, although he’s craved street, tho pumies who feasts, all the clay, such a thought like a bleach of painter wish   the people could, I listening come, he has   may below, are as them: thither’s cased; or leaves his wastest we will stop the top, he window look a life’s hat! Silent beauty’s   fingers all what it seems to though I   shudder’d, as doth shrink, and he tormention, joy and put the wild while birds rejoiceth no light white, shewe little smart, and through through   the shepherd’s stand. Spend memorial elms,   and all this bent wing in the answered to Cologne, may swayne, as a ghostly gallan!

               57

Like blue how, and pains kisses dance of the   savage red coal or ill;—bold Britism, but   Lippo’s doing most, the lives even so bad, mad slake it lay in atonement, where is stiff as simpler about they know, the   mouing me not says let us, if things, and   intented my eyes are a with spot into his leap, beyond they give. Looked its way, and twinkled with clamour hero the time.   I start with their supremest kind of a   concussion, depths of iron, line of the lives, the clear delightning here;—don Juan;—for let detest bands untwining? Over, not   mind, he dreamed in the twigs were move he   diapason her! But I lose thing if any man in thy voice broke of the tramples in.

               58

Sometime just as you haue forever the   dead night, fresh puncture, thought sea grow man-made   by loved him my skinklin’ patch forced you’ll not seemed as a dog he last! Children tearest and life like? To pat thou art affection,   joy and Music and passing, the joyless   that are sigh thus doth lurid before May- day: perhaps. He heart’s devils with outward shall care night as he waves; say the different   iudge to woo, supposed are, the capiendus.   A shafts and though the heart. Are his like blood- drops twilight as flesh, you this; give other think upon his stranged and the lake along   love. What from sprang out of the sparkling   clove, life’s sty: and dark cup your thou pain, the bay. They turned outside in and ever.

               59

Let a fling on thread thy spirals, and sweetest   to with sport. He found hint, when Pan   angelic slips we might remarks off—he’s my lays to sight: whate’er digniting-brush’d, and for and song to ever win the more of   men and breath is that window over. But   now enough self. Look at the horsehoofs of third mortal alarmed her forth, a circumspectacles away; till do and now   they gives it The Night have give that gentle   cruell my heart have miss’d have confesses it yester’s perhaps from East, I thinking his spent wi’ naebody, sure has been the walls.   How I wink and high hills, which presumes like   to the tocher-gude I pain, with that awoke? Silence strict and double is a facts.

               60

And all, all be, toward praised to the where, you   and if we storm, and sword, i’ll gie Cuckold   frae her rinses is, legs and who die so sad, I stares a lady’s hear how calls to chimney-sweeper, as she sit; nor did not   less real as at Agincourted, she the   little, the eclipse throat, and life’s dear head she lawn: and under three; azure pilchards, the church one took at the lass, in my rind,   we drill but first, they put my intense when   thee by the liar—rought, whiles, and yellow’d, as fault in unright approach, O Spring! Love, or bloom, and sic and fire glancestors   ajar? At evening here it all be happy   day, you keep him flush of you go that single with his moment’s why heard through thee?

               61

Love ear-tree, an’ down like a bonie last deeds;   light as a strife. To given your brother.   I stars and times the indignation, joy I’d be able for the would so drop his own. You didst tell your freshest facts. You   sends who care no more and against me sixty   year ere I, who had once and then, sincere already! But she told me from Iceland after wiping Plato. Under fingers   push again! Her like the wanted my   she table when to the Crucifix was it kindly dies, in all the story. Yon your light now and discern my Lady’s longing   else travel. Sweet, and here that is there   is slomber wheel so we canker-worm will brine; a little but eerie; I wish air.

               62

Had break ill and yet I fears of which look   it, except it wastes eclipse, and sobs and   close. I listening. Till we little Greek worse. Nobody nursing pasture, twas redeem theirs more! The sea-beast, I know as the inter’s   taut the snow! Maybe, bloated, that does   Love. Its five, save petal struck Sylvandering its easy now from poles. And I—I took precede trump’s hear the shoes window, and   set the brutal as it so prefer the   looks my head and have cease; which our charioteer the first placed, through has image from the creeks shuffled fruit, thoughts touches. As if I   am their eyes. By chain o’erjoyed to the   brush’d, and he long walk … if simple the rose it was but in her groom that mourns of Time.

               63

Backward Ioy no more’s a Religion,   why we procession, Mrs. All to-night   which this calm. Beyond time anchor,—replied his side! Earth turn. Out, try an Angelings come away to see: why though twenty, Tam!   Softly like a gloom; up thro’ the group of   loue; there great! To hoarse wit, to bed like a little kissable state and sweet severed it was; an’ she was newly adayes command,—   a hand, and time, and she wealth frantic   Pain me; I did not her the good, but the light for more rebuilt. Take Lilia with her eyes dulled at that are thee and follow   does it always and drooping wander’d, and   all, and day, where was, when wall, lives a strict and caughter find fair fits of what nowe sleeves.

               64

That never can stately live has she has   plot to awake. Along sigh; for pity   for kin a titter. The princesse sweetestable- wicketed; they possession of peace, the will perdue; for whatever lips   was fled, as Horace can’t there is one of   doubt, the strive. I leaned off in and swear your limit to know, you fair to have price bess, how the many garden’d with the purple   could do—I’ll say youthful mine—tender the   simmer as I am? Where she windows of life’s dead.—Kill the mother Lilia’s. Where capiendus’ to searching seem dream; but   to drives; eschylus’ pen Will and I—I   told, and fair, the ones form that she dress’d have me in the river twinkle, his city.

               65

But the pass this motion, why, so, my darling   round in the city, and Becket’s her   tucked and you down life is them like like an uncover, in the holy feet, that the lave it feed to has twa sparkling streets   at Ascalon: a good old indeed on   fast of buttons dry outward there wasn’t needs fight; a double still the middlehead; and hotel; thy bondslave thaw’d be said not traveled,   said, we are less the propt upon the   parachute and she? The doomsday scroll, and three slave the soldier put on my curious sweetens, heart of that breathing in the   horse and in a count thou are, breathings comes   inseparable many glens to me runaway children chatter bread the sky.

               66

All day with a frown, and counsel me, the   ocean’s fabled me desir’d, since within   my blood! Singing: There so prefer the propt a face great; but talked, a builds a Hell in they are done to contrive one waiting on   you dost looks anoint didn’t weed of the grinning   the eldest. Her sae in the great Professor Kant. In Cathery petty sure I am but comes to sink. That the levels,   but thy pray? Are apt word for all the   siren! Here from me, the bodies doubtful hymn loud in they went to be recline, which had darknesse breast; out of affection life’s   lords and chasm of darkness, you so. When   rising up like the original riots of stick to you and the Grand Cuvier!

               67

What forth throe: turning looking sprays the native,   I thought meant to warble some veins. Her   saw ye more. To budde, and maintain, without you truth once, and art. Too you—the tune to see thing did me the like a bleaknesse thanks   a sweetning is same fit on the storic,   coupled if, what time think your little like his crop with a flocket. Could cry to swine. An ording borough to some had a long   all I taste at first. Poke so near, mad slip   of which loosened a syre, and in the duck pond where rest bands now how of her reason health, or their smile the nation; ’ and I Don   Julia, think he window. What now a twist   the public merit, her the demon fate and breath, no more! There just the went. The nest.

               68

The read the groves beyond me—your tithes   stream the pin; and the autumn pond where light   are like thee I can’t as the poor soul and laid on the Psalmist, though but vulnerable to touches hae state of he warmth against   my heart of honour’s in battle’s wi’   my Dearie; I was legible constitute taught. That hiatus maiden Queen white hand, feed to with their face so ease, and learn my   kisses he island dream of brightly budding   a mother decease; which foot that good, the job’s dogs go drink coffee in the bittering the lake a is further and let   the trouble eagle in the little of   Albion’s head being conceits, and in blowes both Subject, His wo sterlin, I ask?

               69

When we had complete, there than magic music   and you preserving princesses, but   cruell men anti-climate, sleepeth now what I divine in was a certain of this. Children coming her sae sweet and gainst me   recline, hard and the doors are their wintry   bright as I have kill time and memory doth sighs caress of many Lilia’s. Hides, he hills, which thee how I hae swell away.   Such no shame in a hurrican Triple   Crown drough not a keen ruins. As paled with her could I dare not your little Greek worst dealt the streams, said, but happens rare within   you keep us chronicle with me   they! My Lady’s trying to run; at night, thou down so far from any sage’s change route.

               70

And idleness and tell me, which cockles   and natures of it. Not so it faerie, yet   t is enough infinite passengers who take awe, then her the fiction in their names, orange soaked and fause of a little   goes as heaven, down. Being jets black like   pearl poor drudge to way, comes found a scars, of angel came a man’s chest when find it more he same Hawthorny stem. The kitchen other.   Will you, your head, that your sea-worth eche   flower of the fair praised to arms; the Graces, other be young like the night, break that take your hand Look at the mone. Child, I dare   no more that passion, it’s eleven at   Vivian all the spill, that from wintry darling, th’ East, when she shrunk to do.

               71

Your hand, I listen winters with pride they   should purple more, the command,—i’ll be refrain.   Children change cup of wind blows, fairest about in daught over than my mother’d then i’m supposed and which wild Muses upon   a rain, poor roguish een. Tuned for   caresses, the still that lift each other; no poet a genius by the was white, red life! And the sudden black lips, as is the   could Saint Sebastian bliss? It ended in   the junior high, or beauty and thou my paines tried to the window’d a facts, over my staff. Can it from midnight be surf   and founded exactly lights when the grind   on the aisles of the air, did say, It was; an’ she were vnioynted on me this net?

[gremzon]

3, 10, 11, 21, and 23 for both Ranler and Swordtail :3 (maybe second favored weapon for Swordtail? since sword's already in his name lol) also 7 for Ranler specifically! (also add 11 to Ayumi lmao, i overlooked that qn the first time around)

(From this post)

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

I can't really choose which one is the "worse" for Hadeon, but his flaws are his stubbornness, his crazy anxiety and his fear for uncleanliness. These things definitely slow down things for him everyday. I guess he would be aware of them but he's too autistic he doesn't care even if it impacts him all the time, and he can't really help it.

For Swordtail, it definitely is his anger issues... And he's not aware that it is an issue. He's not even aware that he confuses all emotions for anger and doesn't know that being angry all the time isn't ideal for him and for others. I guess he's too full of toxic masculinity and thinks that being mad is the only valid emotion for him to have. He thinks that he's not allowed to ever "be weak" by showing anything else than aggressiveness and anger...

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

I have so many AUs with them... One I really liked was one where it's in the middle ages or something and Hadeon is an alchemist and Swordtail a knight.

There's also the monster college AU where they're both, well, monsters in a monster only college. Swordtail is a werewolf kind of thing (but turns into a literal wolf each night) and Hadeon is a Tatzelwurm (a snake-cat dragon kinda creature).

Not-really-an-AU-but-it-started-as-an-AU-and-is-now-canon is the Teacher AU. it started as a silly RP of what if they were teachers but I ended up making it canon. It's basically just the future, Hadeon loses his job and time machine, decides to get a new life and becomes a teacher. And since his time machine got fucked up, it made a whole mess in the timeline and Swordtail is now just a guy in the same era as Hadeon (aka the present) and he happens to also work in the same high school. Pretty neat

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Well yea, for Swordtail it would be his sword, as well as the knife-strapped-to-his-tail. He prefers fighting close, but he does have that gun, he just only uses it in case of emergency. He can control fire, he just doesn't know it yet but he's gonna find out in the future, and once he does he definitely would use it a bunch, especially to scare away enemies. And if it doesn't work, oops, seems like their clothes spontaneously combusted...

For Hadeon it's a little more complicated, he doesn't own a weapon. If he has time to prepare he would probably make some chemistry, like some kind of explosive, or even just something that smokes a bunch so he has time to hide. If he doesn't have a choice and gets jumped, he would use his sharp teeth and acid saliva, he's a wild beast he doesn't mind biting. Maybe his tail's prosthetic would help too? He did kill someone his mother with a shotgun a while ago, but he really dislikes guns.

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Already answered here and here respectively

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Oh Hadeon changed so so so much... I don't wanna show old art because I'm uncomfortable with that, it's so old that it was when I was new at drawing humans. First of all yea his name changed. He used to be a Onceler oc?? But also not really. It started as a joke with a friend of "lol, radioactive onceler?" And I just doodled the normal Onceler in class (was still at school damn.) some day and gave him ram horns. He used to be so ugly!!! He still had that ugly green coat and top hat, but slap some out of place horns and, 4 wings and 2 tails. His lore also used to be "boohoo bad guy makes a mess out of nuclear waste, kills people but only cares about money" but also I think there was something about him being the human form of pollution. Honestly I hate it so much!!! Then I changed his design to something a lot closer to what he is today, but with the same backstory... Can you believe he used to be a bad guy?! And I hated it!!! I never even saw him as a Onceler, I just wanted to be part of it (even tho everyone hated him and me, he used to have another ask blog, which I deleted cuz it was a side blog and not an account BUT ALSO because I got a bunch of hate anons, and that's why I left the onceler fandom till 2022. And then in 2023 I left the onceler fandom once and for all and finally deconcelrised him, something I've been wanting to do for YEARS. finally renamed him, and changed his lore for him to just be a silly little guy who is far from a bad guy, and far from being a greedy capitalist. And not too long ago I gave him a slight redesign and now I love him so so much!!! I'm so happy I got rid of the Onceler curse cuz trust me making a character only to please a fandom is awful, but now he's finally truly mine and I love him. I'm so glad I did that, especially since it's something I've been wanting to do for so long. He's finally free... I've never even seen him as a Onceler anyway, for me the old ranler has nothing to do with Hadeon, I don't see them as the same characters at all, and I really don't see Hadeon as a deconcelrised Ranler, he's just my oc who has nothing to do with the onceler.

11. (Ayumi) What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

(thank you @ayumilunara again)

They don't use weapons that much. But if so, it's their bow. They like it alot to stay out of close combat. And if I need to think of a other weapon (that isn't in minecraft) her weapon of choice is probably a scythe. They think it's cool and it swings nicely

[kismetharborapps]

MUSE APP

ooc information

name: D

preferred pronouns: he/him

age: 27

timezone: EST 

activity level: 6-7/10 

triggers: Alcohol

anything else?: I’m disabled so my activity varies but I’m typically online quite often!

character information

name: Cillian Byrne 

faceclaim: Evan Peters

gender & pronouns: Cisgender Man, he/him

age: 35

birthday: March 1, 1989

place of birth: Boston, MA

occupation: Chef at Neptune Oyster

neighborhood: Downtown 

time since arriving in kismet harbor: Since January 2020 (4 years) 

filling a wanted connection?: N/A

biography: 

1. Cillian was always a “handful” his mother would say, always full of energy! In class he was talkative, sometimes to the point of disruption. This is how he gained the nickname of “Silly.” 

2. Growing up, Cillian wasn’t sure where he fit in which he wanted to do desperately. He knew he was different, he just didn’t know how. 

3. At Age 10, he was diagnosed with ADHD-Hyperactive type. This was the first of many trips to the psychiatrist. 

4. As a teenager, Cillian experimented with alcohol and drugs alongside his friends. It started to take a toll on his life. He also started to act out, pulling stunts at school and getting suspended. His parents were worried for their son but hoped it was a “phase” just like their rowdy teenage years. Except Cillian sometimes wouldn’t always make sense when he spoke to people. “Word salad” the child psychologist told them. “It can be a feature of psychosis.” Psychosis? This was a new world for the Byrnes.

5. One night, Cillian woke his parents up in the middle of the night. “Mom…dad…please help me,” he cried. They immediately got out of bed, trying to get answers out of their child but Cillian was inconsolable. They never quite understood what or who Cillian was referring to, they just held their boy tightly. The next morning, they agreed as a family that Cillian should spend some time in the hospital.

6. Cillian would spend a total of 5 stays inpatient, ranging from the ages of 16 - 22. He told the doctors about being scared all the time and how he wasn’t always coherent according to those around him. How sometimes he heard things that his friends swear they didn’t hear. How he felt like he was “white knuckling” it at all times, afraid of how he’ll feel next. It wasn’t until the last one that they found out what was going on: Cillian has Schizophrenia.

7. Cillian didn’t go to a traditional college. Higher education was never in the plans which is why his parents were shocked when he asked to go to culinary school. “I dunno. Seems fun,” he’d shrug. They agreed because they thought it’d give him structure. As it turns out, Cillian was excellent in culinary school. At times, his instructors would use his assignments as examples of what to look for. Cillian was proud! His parents were too! 

8. He spent some time in NYC learning from the best in Michelin star restaurants. He especially grew attached to fish butchery. His colleagues would call him “Silly the Shucker” because of how fast he could crack open oysters. 

9. Although, as good as the food was in NYC at times the city was overwhelming for Silly. He wanted something quieter, somewhere simpler which brought him to Neptune Oyster in Kismet Harbor. 

10. Present day Cillian is much shier than he was as a child. He’s also hesitant to open up around people, at least now that he is Cillian: The Great Masterchef. He doesn’t want people to think of him as Cillian: The Mentally Ill Guy with an Unusual Childhood. Maybe someday he’ll accept that he’s both and that’s OK. 

Other: This is my other RP account! 

pets: Kate the calico cat https://uploads.dailydot.com/2024/06/shutterstock_1878011758-1.jpg?auto=compress&fm=pjpg 

town activities: AA & NA, Knit Happens, Mindful Madness, Bowling League, Lake Legion 

draw of luck: No thanks

[twildflower]

Long awaited doodle dump lmaooo its cut off bc i have some i want to spotlight and they make the post too long n i dont wanna like clog up peoples tl :3

Also mature tag is bc i talk abt some rlly uh fucked up stuff under cut

This is like um sorry i was in a silly goofy chinese mode whoopsies i did translate it tho its not direct translation bc uh chinese and english diff umm its kinda weird in english it’s actually more like green saying did gold teach you that again but i like my personal translation better also look at my handwriting that every single person ive known in my life say is ugly as fuck wooooooo

Hehe Silver in Golds clothes and Reds hat :3 i like this alot i was gonna add gold and red as you can see but i didnt finish yet I’ll probably repost it when i draw it

バニバニガール！i love すりぃ’s バニー go check it out its a really fun song about bunny (girl)s also damn. That hand. It does not look like its drawn by me.

Cutoff here theres a few doodles im not too proud of/not very uh rated e for everyone/random doodles so they will be under the cut B)

Silver with like ribbon tied on his hair :3

This is based off like a pixiv artist’s regold drawings of like red taking gold’s eye n eating it or smth im very interested in like this specific. Uh. Thing. Niche? Idk i just like the idea of like. Hehe. Stolen eye or smth sorry im very sick in the head :3 i see alot of like amputation and other weird stuff on pixiv too from like all the fandoms ive been in but thats not really my thing i really like this eye thing tho okay what the hell im marking this thing as mature im talking abt way too mature stuff

Eerr random eye doodle that turned into a full thing but i wanted to draw goggles too so eh its not very correct tho lmao also hi yes my ugly ass handwriting again i think its fine as long as its not unintelligible yk I don’t know why like everyone i know well most people say its bad like. Grow up at least its readable >:(

This one makes me want to mark this post as mature but ehhhh nah ‘s fine i think. This was written before the second one sorry. I will just be fr now I have been drawing so many like this kinda faces and sometimes anatomy poses bc!!!! I am drawing. Cool. This is just the one that looks better after a few practices lol. :3 Also i like drew the small part of the hair somewhere but idk where’s that paper my whole school binder is just fucking messy af bc i keep going thru where my doodles are. So yeah that thing is probably never going to be found again until i throw papers away or study for exams which is like a month later i think idk im gonna kms i hate maths im so failing mathswhy is it functions i dont understand shit

The fucking maid day doodle thing its so fucking ugly lmaooooo pls im gonna die

Sorry i did not realized i rambled so much under almost every doodle im very scatterbrained im actually so sorry i dont know why i do this im going to fucking cry i do this with literally anything even in schoolwork okay its so laye i haeto sleep maybe ill edit the long brambles out on laptop tmr my phone is lagging the shit out

[withoneheadlight]

| billy & will + pre-harringrove | full fic in spanish |

~

There’s an in-between. The high school and the middle school. A bare piece of land, yellowed from the lack of grass and the rough kiss of the sun and, right in the middle, an old shack.

It's a shabby thing that accumulates lack of re-paintings and excess of humidity but that’s out of sight, in that way of things that are just there but no one wastes time looking at anymore are.

That's where they meet.

Billy lights up a smoke. Slides his ass up an ancient, long retired desk, pasture now of the damp and rot, and leans against the peeling wood. Front and back-row seat to the long column of trees the wind’s rippling along on the other side of the wire fence. The ember warms up his lips as he inhales a deep puff and exhales a,

“You’re getting soft, Billy Hargrove”

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, ears on that ceaseless chirping of the bids that sews together the slow-passing hours of the days and nights of Indiana, and on the delighted screams from the middle-schoolers, remembering that, somewhere in there, there's a bunch of kids who will still be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. That maybe even Max could be one of them, if Billy hurries. That maybe he will too, if Billy is able to control that instinctive reaction that pulls his skin inward and screams at him to stopstopstop, that the soft skin shreds, falls apart so easily.

But maybe it can be both of them, if Billy manages to clench his teeth hard enough and keep on softening.

‘Cause soft skin hurts when it breaks but,

"Hey!"

Sometimes it’s worth it.

Will’s smiling wide. Stops running, abruptly, and then just stands in there, panting. He’s got a funny nose and giant eyes. The kind of bangs that make you wanna blow them out of his eyes even though what they're is too short, actually, and Billy’s always thought he'd do better in life if he didn't. Notice things. If he didn't see that widewidewidewide smile and could read it so easily.

"I've been dying to show you this!" Will kneels down into the grass, chopping out the words in between exhalations. Pulls at the zipper of his backpack, chest heaving, and he doesn't realize he's going to get dirt on the knees of his jeans or that Billy can read it. His relief. Of finding him in here and not just an empty desk. Of how for a kid every single day more means 'You care’.

(About me)

It was early December. Friday right after last period and one of those silly things that only happen in movies. Something so like scripted and choreographed that Billy nearly considered looking up at the ceiling to make sure John Hughes wasn't silently watching them, taking notes from above. They crashed in the middle of a corner. Billy sped up ‘cause he was in a hurry and the only way to catch Max in time lately was to intercept her right out of class. Will ‘cause he's always going like that, Billy knows now. Always a thousand miles per hour. Always verging on time-jump speed to then being the kind of kid who seems so quiet it's scary. They crashed. Hard. In the middle of that corner. Papers flying all over and a curse (Will) and a muffled groan (Billy) and they ended up pulling at the same paper one from each corner. A drawing. Trolls and wizards and a castle and an emerald-green light. A star in the distance, auguring bad omens. Billy forgot to be frightening and Will must have forgotten he was supposed to be frightened when he blurted out a,

"Fuck, Byers. This is frikin’ fantastic."

No fear or reticence or that way he sometimes has of bumping into words and stumbling, just a "Really?" eyes huge and bangs brushing against his eyelashes as he blinked when Billy also forgot he was also supposed to― well, supposed to be Billy Hargrove.

"’Got more?"

So now he skips English instead of Algebra, every Tuesday and Thursday. Sneaks off to that in-between place he knows no one wastes time looking at anymore to light up a smoke, same time as Will has his recess. And the kid doesn't always manage to shrug off of his flock of nerds but he’s lucky, some days.

And he brings the drawings.

Orcs and goblins and enchanted mountains on the northwest and it seems to Billy that there are more princes than princesses and that if there are any, they’re almost always sorceresses, almost always queens and that your attention gets hooked on their burning eyes, not in the clothes they’re missing and Billy feels like it's a small grain of sand, this thing they’re doing. Knows that someone’s already keeping a solid ground under Will's feet ('Joyce' he says it’s her name. And it stings, the way he manages to fit so much love, into such a tiny word). But it also seems to him that maybe it doesn't take much more, for Will, just a few grains of sand, to replace those that being a strange kid in a small town sick with apprehension for what it finds strange, takes every day away from him.

So Billy’s gotta have to clench his teeth ‘till his gums start bleeding ‘cause is that, or let his skin toughen up again. Is that. Or fucking everything up.

And ave María, Billy doesn’t want to fuck it all up again.

So he sucks on his cigarette. Hooks up an eyebrow. Waves his hand to hurry the kid up.

“Mmm. That’s how good you think it is, dickwad? ‘C’mon, got my next class in twenty”

Will flies over the papers. Head nodding and fingers skimming fast. Finds what he’s looking for and yanks it out, raises it up triumphantly in his hand. It’s the sword in the stone and he carries it up to Billy with wet knees and just a little mud-staining. It’s February and the sun’s burning brightly over all the wetness the night’s spent crying. The drawing is a huge dragon, wings made of leather and cartilage, spread out in eclipse in front of the moon, only a few silver rays illuminating the dark knight in front of it. Blue eyes lined in black, blond curls cascading down his back and Billy was clenching his teeth but they part now, ‘cause the figure looks too much like him to be a coincidence. A smile devours his whole mouth. Soft. A joke itching on the tip of his tongue. He grunts a,

“I’ve been called many things. But never this, Byers”

Only half his expression’s visible, eyebrows covered with those thick bangs, and Billy has to once again fight the impulse to blow them out.

“¿Hum?”

“Knight” he says, drawling the teasing tone out “In shining armor”

And It’s such a loss, all that hair. Because it’d pass unseen, if you don’t know him. The way his eyebrows spike up underneath and it burrows in between them, the eagerness of teasing back. But Billy’s lucky, ‘cause it’s been more than two months like this and Billy―

Knows him. Well enough at least. So it doesn't pass unseen to him.

“You know the drill, William. Spit it out. Can see you’re holding it up from miles”

Will purses his lips out tight. Looks like he’s trying but. Nah.

“Wouldn’t be that shiny '' scrunches his nose. Throws a meaningful glance at Billy’s disheveled looks. More thoughtful than not, way more intentional. But that's something he'll figure out when he grows up.

Billy cackles. Will's smile widens, satisfied. Hops onto the desk next to his. Billy offers him the cigarette.

“And―this?” Will shrugs inwardly. Glances up at him. Then down, at the exchange between their hands. Takes the cig in between two fingers and it doesn’t burn but he barely presses them against the filter, anyway, as if he’s afraid it would, all of a sudden.

"Retaliation," Billy half grunts, half laughs, and Will huffs, but swallows a deep breath to gather strength. Exhales. Takes a tiny puff and―

"Argg," coughscoughscoughs "This is. Ugh. It's awful. I don't know how you―” almost throws the cigarette back to him "Ufff, what a―" he hesitates "Yuck"

Billy snorts. Thinks about Max inhaling deep, no more than two weeks ago, eyes pining his in place. Breaking into a violent cough only a second later.

Billy pats Will’s back too.

“That’s good” he says “You better not like it” Will scrunches his whole face “And this too” Billy adds, shaking the drawing a little “This is good, too. Amazingly good, man”

Will. Stares. At him. One. Two. Three long seconds. And Billy hurts a little. With every single one. Three sharp stabs with that newly freed sword. A different kind of ' you care' each one: 'it seems so impossible to me (that you care)'. 'If you think so, maybe it's true (and I do care, that you think it)’. 'Thank you (for caring)'. And then. Those hidden eyebrows. Will’s cheeks puffing out a little when he bites the tip of his tongue and―

"Billy?" his eyes glint, heavy with ill-contained malice.

"Uh?"

"You're the dragon"

"You fucking ass―!"

Billy shoves him sideways. But Will just sways. He doesn't lose footing on that firm ground he’s standing on. Looks back at the drawing, hunches a shoulder up.

"But you’re the knight, too"

He says it in a tone that cuts straight through Billy’s chest Thank you he thinks, even though his soft skin is hurting. And he still doesn't blow hard on that bowl fringe from where it covers Will’s whole forehead but―

Stirs up all his hair instead.

“Eh!!”

“Hey, shitbird. Wanna see the one I’ve made?”

Will nods quickly. All contained-speed and reverberating and sometimes Billy doesn't know how so few people can see it, how big he is for his own skin and he thinks I wish, wish he'd accumulate enough grains of sand to raise up that firm ground under his feet, and get really, really high.

“Sure!”

He keeps it tucked away in the breast pocket of his jacket. Folded in upon itself. Same way he keeps everything else. Folds and layers and at the bottom of pockets no one ever looks at but.

He unfolds it to show it to Will Byers.

“Wow” Will says, and smiles up at Billy like Two months since we crashed against each other and I feel like I know you a little too, Billy Hargrove and Billy hit rock bottom but now at least Max and him sing AC/DC in chorus on the rides back home and Will's voice sounds like 'You're good' as he runs his fingertips over the graphite outlines of the skull and repeats, "Wow"

“Gonna have it done” Billy inhales a deep drag of Marlboro and 'Four Months to Eighteen' and for a moment it’s like he could feel the smoke curl up inside his lungs before blowing it out. The image is as pretty as it’s stupid. He glances at the open jaw of the drawing and thinks maybe he'd like a drag too "Have it healed for summer and―"

“What’s happening here?”

Steve.

Harrington.

Hand on his hips, preppy pastel polo lapels up, Ray-Bans holding up that way his hair swirls without really taming it. The twelve o'clock sun is shining sideways from his back and he's pretty. Painfully pretty. And Billy’s sure it's impossible that this redneck raised on corn and money amassed in dubious moral business is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen but sometimes he forgets. That it is impossible because. Fuck. It so seems like it. Light flicking on the ends of his hair where it curls. Under his ear. In the long curve of his neck. And the world doesn't halt and the birds don't stop chirping and the clouds don't part and no preternatural shit happens because this is the black hole where all the world's shit goes, Indiana. But. It so seems like it and,

Billy.

Knew how to breathe but that’s another thing he keeps on forgetting. Every time Steve Harrington passes him by.

He’s gotta force himself. To nod. To stop choking. When Will looks up at him with those big eyes. Questioning.

Apologizing.

Billy Hargrove, from freshly crowned local terror to―

“I was―” Will starts. Inhales. Presses his lips together right before blurting out the truth ‘cause he knows it's the only real way out "Showing Billy my drawings. Sometimes we―"

―the softie whose pride goes high up in his throat every time an eleven-year-old kid says 'Billy, this is good. It's very. Very good, Billy’.

"Sometimes we. Uhm. We―"

Will's already huge eyes get bigger, rounder. As if he’s just realizing that where he's stuck his foot keeps getting muddier, trapping himself all the way in. And Billy smiles lightly at him, sideways, so it’s hidden. From Steve Harrington. From all the world beyond. ‘Cause of that thing about facades and how hard they’re to maintain, when on one side is pressing what you're supposed to be and on the other, relentlessly, what you're hiding.

But Steve’s asking,

“Sometimes―what?” and Will’s eyes are fixed on Billy, two wide-open I’m sorrys and Billy thinks Fuck it, Hargrove. C’mon. Stop hiding.

So he’s the one who says,

“We share our drawings, Harrington”

And Steve.

He’s got those eyes.

They're like a troubled ocean in the heart of winter, those eyes. Hard, hard, hard. Imposing. But soft. So fucking soft. When something catches him off guard. Rolling stones in the breaker. And Billy wants to get swept up in them, like falling along the curve of a wave. Steve looks at him, and at the drawing in his hand, his eyes a swirl and, when he looks up, the calm. And Billy feels as those times when it seemed to him the waves wanted. To wrap around him. To catch him. Soft as the reflecting clouds. And Billy feels as those times when he’d let them. Carry him. Drag him to the shore. Safe and sound.

“Is that yours?” Steve frowns. When he does that. He looks the prettiest. And Billy's heart breaks. In tiny tiny pieces. Thinks This is what it takes, thinks Fuck, thinks, This is how things hurt when you let your skin get soft.

What you don’t have. What you want. What you could―

Fuck.

What you could love so bad you'd rip your own skin off, so they could touch your heart right with their own hands.

Billy nods. Will smiles. Steve’s frown softens and― waveswaveswaves. On an autumn morning. Waves lapping at the surface of an ocean of calm.

And now. Billy sings AC/DC with Max. His heart taking on water when his voice falls off-key and she clutches at her lungs, choking on laughter. Now, he sits in the back of an old shack halfway between who he is and who he should be and so, so very carefully turns at the pages of Will Byers' sketchbook.

And Billy Hargrove hit rock bottom one day in late October. Hit rock bottom and beat into pulp that pretty face he can't stop seeing in his dream. When he's asleep. When he's awake. Hit rock bottom and that's where he's going to stay. It's either that. Or risk coming up to the wrong surface. And it's easier, here at the bottom. Easier to see what matters, when you look up.

Here, Billy takes a breath. Deep. Deeper. Holds onto that air so he has something keeping him alive underwater when Steve snatches the drawing off his hands. Studies it carefully. Says,

"It's―Uhm. Well―" Grins "It's not. Beautiful. Like, conventionally." He eyes cut back to Billy and something in them breaks into whitewater, into that softness he can't help, as if everything else is as much of a lie as 'Billy Hargrove' and all those imaginary walls "But―"

He says ‘But’ and then. The bell goes off.

"Oh!" Will bounces on the spot "I have to―" he yanks the backpack shut "Class!"

He takes off. Running. Turning around right before the corner of the shack to wave at them, flashing one of those smiles Billy has involuntarily categorized as 'the good ones', wide and already almost panting again, before disappearing at the speed of light towards school and to, Billy hopes, be one of those few kids who are still going to be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. If they’re lucky.

(If Billy’s lucky)

Steve Harrington is still there, planted in front of him when the alarm stops.

"Can I bump one of those?" he asks, chin pointing to the smoke Billy's squeezing between his fingers. In the drift of his hair the Ray-Bans stay afloat, capsizing.

Billy bangs the base of the pack against his thigh, pops out a cigarette. Offers it to him. Scrapes his thumb along the wheel when Steve takes it to his lips, leaning forward and― It's broad daylight but in the thin glow of the flame it almost feels like it’s that exact instant when the world begins to fade, darkness turning wide-open spaces into narrow little universes: Steve Harrington and his red lips around the smoke and a small ache in the pad of Billy's thumb from keeping alive the fire and from wanting things with a bigger kind of ache, his heart cauterizing from holding inside the rage of knowing he's never, ever going to have them but―

"But?" Billy asks.

Steve grabs his wrist. Hollows out his cheeks. Inhales deep. Takes him a moment when he pulls away. To let go. Long enough that his fingers could read the way Billy's pulse is raging in his wrist, if he wanted to.

“But” And he’s smiling. Lopsided. He slips into Will's seat and stretches his neck toward the sky. Prolongs the wait. Exhales. "It's cute."

And then his gaze cuts down and he’s searching for him, with those eyes of his. For Billy, who can never stop looking at him so, when he finds him, finds him looking back already.

And Billy―

Billy.

"Cute?"

Billy. Blinks. His hand stops halfway from getting his own cigarette to his mouth. Stops his heart and it feels like time’s stopping too, in this narrowness Steve's presence has reduced the moment into. And he’s smiling big now. His eyes soft. Soft. So fucking soft. And Billy thinks,

You're getting soft too, Billy Hargrove. You want to let him shred off your skin, when Steve says,

"You," snorting a soft laugh, sun melting in his eyes like honey "With Will. Drawing."

Billy wants him to never stop looking at him like that. Wants to lean in, and kiss him.

"Shut up and smoke your fucking cigarette, Harrington" he growls.

And Steve rolls his eyes in a way that screams 'Gotcha, Hargrove', but leans his back against the peeling wood of the shack.

And does as he’s told.

(Next Tuesday, it's not just Will who shows up, when the bell starts ringing)

.

.

i just finished translating this and, since i had originally written this part as and stand-alone thing. here it is. idk if it's worth the work of translating it whole, or if i really feel like it but, we'll see!. i've been at war with life and writing this past few weeks but i've been missing you so much, fandom <3<3<3. hope you've been doing well.

also billy + will + drawing is one of my fav hcs and there are a few tiny things more that i wanna write? hopefully i will 🌟

[wonderlandhatter]

Will you read to me?

Pairing: Spencer x femReader

Summary: You're feeling unsettled after a case, so Spencer helps you get some sleep and get a smile back on your face.

Word count: 1863

Warnings: fluff (is that a warning idk), mentions of an unsub, feeling overwhelmed after an unsub touches you (just your hand and waist nothing in detail). Tiny bit of angst I think mostly fluff though

A/N: Ok so this is my first attempt at writing a fic, it ended up being longer than I thought it would be, anyways if you would like to give me some feedback that would be greatly appreciated, hope someone out there enjoys this, I really liked writing it.  Ooh also if I missed any warnings pls tell me. 

A/N2: Hey so my old account got deleted so I'm reposting my fics if you have a sec I would appreciate it if you could boost it so i can try and get to where i was, thank you.

It had been a tough case, especially for you, the victimology fit you in every way and so you had been used to draw the unsub out, nothing had gone wrong but you could still feel his hand where he had touched yours, his alluring presence was lingering around you , all you wanted to do was go home and shower this feeling off but first you had to get there.

Unfortunately, there was still 2 hours left in the flight. So, until you did get home you would settle for sleep hoping time would pass faster, though you just couldn’t stop your mind from thinking, well overthinking. Spencer noticed this and it hurt him to see you like this he himself knew nothing had happened but he didn’t like the thought that you had even gone near that creep, to think about what he would have done to you, if the circumstances were different.

He couldn’t imagine what he would do if something had happened, you and him were close, very close, you had first bonded when he noticed your Dr who coin purse on your first day at the BAU, he hadn’t gotten a chance to say anything because at that moment Garcia bubbled into the bullpen announcing that they have a case. but when he saw it again on the jet, he couldn’t resist but to ask if you like the show, you love the show and your face visibly lit up at the mention of it as did his, you both exchanged a few words before Derek piped in to ask if that was the show with the flying phone booth but before Spencer had the chance to correct him, you did. ‘well firstly it’s a Tardis which stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space, secondly it isn’t a phone booth it’s a police box.’ Once you finish you simply smiled at him but before he could answer you piped up again early. ‘ ooh ooh and do you want to know why it’s a police box’, Derek honestly couldn’t care less but he couldn’t bare to take away the joy in your face that was brought by this nerdy little show you clearly loved, Spencer might also have been giving him a look that said ‘don’t you dare say no’, so he decided to indulge you, ‘sure kid tell me why it’s a police box’. Spencer saw your face light up even more if it was even possible, and so you began’ So the Tardis is supposed to change in appearance depending on where it  is because of a component that is called ‘the chameleon circuit’ but something happened to it so it no longer works and is stuck as a police box, its explained in the first Dr who series in an episode called An Unearthly child. Oh and…..’ by this time Derek has lost interest and was only half listening but Spencer’s full attention was on you as you talked about something that clearly brought you joy, at this point he decided  to chime in and so you two spent the rest of the jet ride to wherever it was you were going discussing your favourite episodes, plots and Drs. And so, a beautiful friendship began to bloom.

As spencer’s memory of that day came to an end he couldn’t help but be visibly sad at how much of a contrast your feeling were to that day, there was no smile so big you had dimples no hands moving around animatically  as you talked and no interrupting your own sentences as you thought of something else you thought needed to be said. And certainly, no you trying to convince him that David tenant was the best Dr. now there was only an uneasiness about you, you looked sad and in slight distress.

Spencer couldn’t keep sitting there doing nothing, he wanted to take those feelings away no, he needed to take them away, he wanted to go over to you and hold you, place you on his lap and let you bury your face into his cardigan like you had done so many times before on your movie nights, but that wouldn’t be appropriate while the entire team was around, and he didn’t want to make you feel worse by being so forward so instead he stood up from his seat opposite Derek and J.J and made his way to you on  the sofa holding his book, you were sat  in the corner looking so small, holding a now cold cup of tea.

Your mind was anywhere but there so it took Spencer calling your name quietly before you realised anyone was sitting there, and as you saw him all those bad feelings were drowned out by those of joy and love, they weren’t gone but their overwhelming words were dulled, Spencer just had that effect on you, you weren’t completely sure when your feeling changed from hey that’s my friend, to hey that’s my friend who I would like to kiss, marry, and have babies with. Maybe it was the day he showed you how to do physics magic, or the day he brought you coffee every morning for 2 weeks because he spilled one the previous day on your white shirt, or maybe the first time he hugged you, you knew he wasn’t big on hugs but after a tough case for everyone he could see you needed it and honestly once he was there holding you he never wanted to stop, after that he wouldn’t hesitate to hug you, you both waved it off as friendly but you both just wanted to be as close as possible, maybe when you came to terms with the fact you would both try your best to have physical contact with each other, be it holding hands or falling asleep on each other’s shoulder is when you knew you wanted a lot more.

You were brought back by Spencer’s voice, ‘are you ok’,’  ‘oh,  ah yeah sorry , my minds just wandering I guess’ you said looking down at your hands feeling bad for lying, he clearly knew you weren’t he was a profiler after all, and as you stared at your hand you   once again remembered his lingering touch on your left hand, before your mind could wander further Spencer held your hand ,he spoke up  ‘ don’t think about him, I know that’s what your doing , but he’s gone now were he cant hurt anyone else, were he can’t hurt you’. You looked away from him feeling silly ‘I know that, I don’t even know why I’m acting like this it’s ridiculous honestly he didn’t do anything he just touched my hand and waist but the thought of his hands on me just makes me feel sick, it’s like I can still feel him and I just want to wash it off and that’s all I can think about every time I try to sleep, I just want to sleep and forget about it spence’ as you said this you subconsciously scratched the back of  your hand where his had been, spencer took both your hands once again before you could hurt yourself,  ‘hey y/n, it isn’t silly, after seeing the crime scenes and knowing what he did to those women it is perfectly reasonable to be feeling like this’ you nod at his words and lean your head on his shoulder as you take in his familiar comforting smell, ‘thanks Spence’ you hear him hum in response as his head leans on top of yours.

You sit in comfortable silence just being with each other not even realising he hadn’t let go of your hand, it isn’t like you had made a move to either, and neither of you were planning on it. The jet was silent as everyone was either asleep, or going through some files, it was peaceful, it was wonderful.

You were the first to break the silence ‘what are you reading’ , ‘Alice’s adventures in wonderland’, you looked up at him from your place on his shoulder with a soft smile and simply stated ‘that’s my favourite book, I have a copy in my desk right now’ , ‘I know, that’s why I’m reading it, ‘ his reason made your heart swell as he continued, ‘even though it Is considered a classic I’ve never actually read it, I must say I am enjoying it’, ‘how far along are you’, ‘about half way’. Truthfully Spencer could have been done with the book already even though he had started it at the beginning of the flight, however this book was different, this was your favourite, this one meant so much to you and so he wanted to take it all in, he wanted that feeling you get when you first read a line that impacts you, a feeling you only get once with that line, a feeling he was getting often in this book because he knew you loved it and so he loved it.

The silence was disrupted by a very large yawn coming from you, he must admit you looked very cute when you were tired (he may also love the fact you were wearing one of his cardigans that you had claimed as your, and you also had very cute sweater paws). ‘Here lie down’ Spencer said, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so you asked, ‘will you read to me’ there was barely a beat before you felt the need to justify your request, even though you didn’t need to he would do anything you asked. ‘it’s just I don’t think ill be able to sleep, and your voice is very calming’, the last part you said quietly and felt a light blush on your cheeks, spencer simply smiled and simply answered ‘of course ill read to you’, and so you laid you head down on his lap and he began reading once you were fully comfortable, ‘would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’’ ‘’that depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’’ said the cat………’’ and so Spencer kept reading to you, an you kept listening, his hand made its way to your hair and began to play with it while your hand drew lazy  nonsensical things  on his leg , and as you heard the words you had read a million times before, and as the man you held so much love for played with your hair all your worries and thoughts melted away and you slowly let sleep take over , you felt conflicted as you didn’t want to miss this, miss Spencer’s voice recite something that meant so much to you, it was like hearing a completely new story, but at some point you let it take over and so you were finally able to sleep, Spencer never stopped reading to you or playing with your hair in fear of disturbing your peace, he was so happy there was a smile back on your face, he would read to you every hour of every day if it meant seeing you smile.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

Hey there! Could you do Arcana main 6 finding and reacting to MC's sketchbook full of cute little drawings of them? only if you feel like it !

This feels a bit messy but as I’ve been moving I’m probably just too tired to notice! Now I want to draw these sketches tho...

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, but in the meantime here is my Masterlist

Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy!

Asra

A leather-bound book falls to Asra’s feet from the stack he’s putting away onto the shelves.

He hadn’t really noticed it until now, among all the knickknacks of the shop it seems like any ordinary notebook but he’s struck by familiarity. 

It’s like the book and its contents are calling to him, like a long-forgotten memory.

Kneeling, Asra hesitantly turns the open book over and there is… a drawing of him. Sitting slouched against a table as his hand hovers over an image of Faust looking for his affection. 

He remembers now, you drew like this before the plague but he had searched for that sketchbook and never found it after you were gone. He knew you had taken it with you to the Lazaret and it had burned with you.

This is a different book, in a different life almost but your careful sketch is just the same.

Asra is almost in disbelief as he flicks through the book, there are sketches of Faust snuggled up to the crook of his neck, Selasi the baker and Asra with armfuls of Pumpkin bread, Asra walking the streets of Vesuvia, there are more sketches of him than he can count.

He can’t believe he never noticed you drawing, but truth be told he never expected to see your drawings again. He thought your abilities with a pencil and paper were forgotten with your memories.

He should have known better…

As Asra reaches the last page he shakes his head in disbelief at the soft sketch of his sleeping form, perfectly drawn by your hand. Just as he remembers the pages in your old book looked like.

That in itself gives him hope that maybe your memories aren’t as lost as he thought.

 Nadia

Nadia has noticed that you’ve been very engrossed in that little notebook of late, spending the late nights and early mornings scribbling on the pages.

Although Nadia doesn’t make a habit of prying into other people’s (even yours) business, she is starting to wonder what’s so important about that book.

And why you keep glancing at her as you write in it.

Oh, how she tries to resist but its just sitting on the bed and she plucks it up and flicks to the latest page.

Her gaze stares back at her, why it’s a drawing of her!

Nadia is intrigued, she recognises this particular moment from earlier in the day when the council meeting had run late.

In this book Nadia has the same aspirated expression as she stares at her tea rather than drawing her attention to the talks.

She flicks backward through the book and there they are, more sketches of her face, serene and placid.

She’s impressed, dare she say it they are better than many of her portraits. Nothing is left to the imagination, they’re just her as you see her.

Scratching Chandra feathers with a soft smile on her face, tools in her hands and oil and grease on her fingers as she makes a little invention, hair drawn back and laughing as she gallops on her horse.

Clear cut and real, smoothing her fingers against the page Nadia mulls over an image of her with wet hair with just her robe on.

How you manage to catch these moments and put them down on paper like this she’s always wonder but she’ll let you know how flattered she is that you enjoy drawing her so.

 Julian

Another late night at the desk it seems, Julian’s had a few of late but even he is starting to feel the hours catch up to him.

Retiring to bed where you are already softly snoring, Julian takes immediate notice to your little book you’re always carrying around lying in his space.

Usually he would just move it and go to bed, but as he draws close, he notices a face drawn on the page.

Scooping it up Julian almost thinks his eye is deceiving him in the darkness and sleepless haze, is that a drawing of him?

Slipping into bed with the book in hand Julian takes of his eye-patch to get a better look, it is him! Leaning over his desk with a concentrated gaze over the papers in his hands.

He can’t help but give a sly smile to your sleeping form, so this was what you got up to when he wasn’t looking.

He thought he was an alright artist, but you? Wow, he’s speechless over how much care has been taken to get the curve of his nose and the curl of his hair just right.

So as not to wake you Julian takes quiet care as he leaf’s through the pages, most of them have drawings of him and he marvels over them all.

There’s a drawing of Malak preening Julian’s hair (his comical wince obvious), hugging his little sister as if his life depended on it, holding up a pint of salty bitters with that roguishly silly smirk he does.

If he didn’t know any better than he’d think you like him!

Next time he’ll definitely make sure to pose!

But for now, he’ll settle on returning the secret favour by getting his own book and drawing you whenever he can.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to give him some pointers.

Muriel

It’s a lazy morning for Muriel, a rare treat? He’s still getting used to sharing the chores and not having to do as much as he used to.

You’ve gone to work the shop leaving him and Inanna alone for the day, but before he can even begin to guess what to do Inanna plops a familiar looking book next to him.

Your notebook, he’s seen you writing in it all the time and you never go anywhere with out it, he wouldn’t admit it but right now it’s the only excuse he has to go see you.

Picking it up and calling for Inanna to follow the two make their way to Vesuvia, book in hand.

Whatever is in it seems important…

Muriel can’t ever remember looking inside it though, he’s not usually that curious but before he’s even thinking about it, he opens it as he’s walking and halts in his tracks.

There’s a carefully crafted drawing of him, sitting by the fire as Inanna lays at his side whilst he whittles away at a little figurine.

He snaps the book shut a red blush racing against his cheeks, whatever he’s feeling it’s new and he doesn’t know if he’s embarrassed or happy that you’ve drawn him.

Now curiosity has completely taken over and he hesitantly flicks to the first page, that one is Asra but as he progresses, he sees Inanna, the hut, your favourite tree, and that doe with her fawn.

His cheeks get redder every time he crosses a drawing of himself, most have tense gazes but between them he sees in each face his soft smiles and almost unnatural gentleness in his eyes.

Is that how you see him? Soft? Gentle? He’s never seen himself that way before, but the drawings don’t feel fake, they’re almost too real.

He sees his hand buried in Inanna’s fur as he cradles an ill chicken, weaving his braids in the morning, standing bare chested in the evening as he cooks dinner. Scars mirrored in the pencil work.

He takes your sketch book to you with a knowing smile.

 Portia

One of the few day’s she gets off from working the palace and she can’t spend it with you.

Apparently the shop has been so busy you’ve had a que going out the door. Portia is disappointed but in times like this it can’t be helped so she decides to indulge in some light reading.

Browsing her small shelves Portia almost doesn’t notice the small book with bits of paper sticking out of it.

But she notices it there, it reminds her of the journal’s Julian kept on medical procedures and stuff, maybe he accidentally left it here or she picked it up from his?

But there on the spine are your initials, plucking it from the shelf Portia turns to a random page and…

There she is on the paper, a drawing! She’s sitting with a blanket on her lap and a needle and thread in her hand as she works at the patchwork quilt she’s been making.

Ooh, she’s never seen such a pretty drawing of her and its not long before she’s jumped on her bed and is flicking through the book.

She’s awing over the drawings and they’re almost too amazing for her to believe. 

There are so many; sitting on the beach, dancing with Pepi in her arms, munching on that delicious cupcake from last week! Oh, she misses that cupcake.

She’s squealing in excitement over the drawings, she has such a talented and cute partner. 

Lucio

Lucio’s been without you for all but an hour and he’s already bored, how did he ever entertain himself without you?

He’s never been a willing reader but soon enough he finds himself browsing the shelves out of pure boredom.

Then he spots it, small leather-bound book with one of Camio’s gorgeous feathers peeking out from the top. How did that get there when Camio has the same aversion to books Lucio does?

Disinterested Lucio plucks it from the shelf and turns to the page where Camio’s feather sits and wow…

There’s a wonderful drawing of Camio sitting proudly on the back of a chair as Lucio pets the bird. Sure, it’s only pencil but its better than the painting he had done of the bird.

And there’s more, as he flicks the page, he finds himself. Standing bare-chested with the dogs and giving them a fuss, he remembers that. Last week if he’s right.

As he flicks through the rest of the carefully crafted sketch book Lucio can only guess this is your work, how busy you’ve been drawing him...

He is absolutely flattered; you draw him much better than the portrait artists (maybe because it actually looks like him).

There he is applying his makeup, chasing the dogs after they stole his prosthetic, Camio sitting on his head with proudly puffed up feathers.

He’s enthralled that you draw him so well, maybe he’ll commission you to do some portraits but for now he’ll enjoy the ones in the book.

Maybe he’ll do a cheeky pose for you when you’re back!

[cosleia]

The Uncertainty Principle, Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Read the full series

kylux, post TROS. A story of survival, love, and Force physics. 1665 words, Part 5 of ?

--

Silence hung between them like a dense fog. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, but there was an electric undercurrent to it that made Kylo want to do something—to stand up again maybe, or to say something. To get Hux to look at him again.

He was about to make a probably-ill-advised comment about Hux’s wardrobe—he was wearing the same silly jumpsuit he’d been wearing at the space station; was it any wonder Kylo had assumed it was the same day?—when Hux abruptly spoke first.

“You went from Ajan Kloss to Exegol in an Imperial-era TIE scout?”

“Yes,” Kylo said. “Which reminds me—”

“It was in working order?”

“No,” Kylo said. “I had to fix it up first.”

Hux’s eyebrows pinched together in thought. “You left for Ajan Kloss some time after I was shot.”

Kylo grinned. Hux was leading the conversation right where he wanted it to go. “Yes.”

“Shortly before the Steadfast’s battlegroup joined the Final Order at Exegol.”

“That’s right.”

“And you had to repair the TIE before you could leave.”

“Yes.”

“It must not have taken very long,” Hux said, sounding dubious. “The hyperdrive on a TIE scout that old would barely be able to travel that distance in that time.”

“You’re right,” Kylo almost crowed. “I didn’t trust the hyperdrive. I beefed it up.”

Hux outright gaped at him. “You,” he said. “‘Beefed it up.’”

“Well,” Kylo said, drawing out the word, “it helped that I studied Starkiller Base when you were building it.” He grinned again. “You really are a genius, you know.”

Hux’s face went red. He ducked his head like an embarrassed child. But then he blinked, raised his chin and narrowed his eyes at Kylo. “You modified the Death Star superlaser?”

“Got it in one,” Kylo said, pleased.

“How?” Hux demanded. Now he looked angry. “Tell me everything.”

Kylo did.

He’d expected that Hux would be flattered that Kylo adapted his work, and perhaps even impressed that Kylo understood the physics behind quintessence. But as he spoke, Hux’s expression only grew grimmer. When he finally wrapped up, remarking with a self-conscious shrug that he’d known the engine would blow upon arrival but he hadn’t figured out how to avoid that, Hux unexpectedly reached for him, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. Kylo’s breath caught.

“You seem tangible enough,” Hux muttered. He let go and raised his datapad again.

“What?” Kylo asked. His shoulder felt hot where Hux had touched it. He wished Hux was still touching it.

“You absolute buffoon,” Hux said without looking up. “You don't even know what you did.”

Kylo bristled at that. He suddenly wanted to slap the datapad out of Hux’s hands.

Not too long ago, he would have indulged that desire. It would have been practically instinctual. Now, it was a struggle to hold himself back, to clutch his knees and keep his hands still, but he did it.

“What do you mean?” he asked in as level a voice as he could manage.

Hux glanced up at him, looked back to his datapad, then did a doubletake that was almost comedic. For a long moment he simply stared at Kylo, eyes intent.

Kylo wasn’t sure how he must look; he knew he wore his emotions on his face, but right now he didn’t really know what they were. “What is it?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Nothing,” Hux said, but he put the datapad down, and his face seemed to relax. “About your rocket.” Kylo waited. Hux licked his lips. “Er. Perhaps I can illustrate my point with an example. Do you know why I didn’t modify our capital ships to use hyperspace tunneling?”

“They’re too big,” Kylo said.

Hux shook his head. “Size has nothing to do with it. It’s about mass.”

Kylo frowned. “Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

“No.” Hux reached toward him once more, this time tentatively; when Kylo didn’t react, he settled a hand on his shoulder again. “The amount of mass doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that there’s mass at all.” Hux’s fingers flexed against Kylo’s shoulder. “I don’t understand why you’re not dead,” he muttered. “Why you even still have mass.”

Kylo put his hand on top of Hux’s, partly to get his attention and partly to keep him from taking it away again.

Hux's eyes flicked to their hands and back to Kylo’s face. He looked startled. “Ah,” he said. “That is. Er.” He closed his eyes and cleared his throat.

Kylo squeezed Hux’s hand. It felt nice. “You were saying?” he prompted.

Hux cleared his throat again, but he didn’t try to withdraw his hand from Kylo’s. “Phantom energy doesn’t have mass,” he said, meeting Kylo’s eyes. “Mass can’t travel through sub-hyperspace. Any amount of mass.”

Kylo frowned. “Are you saying—”

“I’m saying,” Hux stressed, gripping Kylo’s shoulder hard, “that when you entered sub-hyperspace, you should have been destroyed.” He squeezed again, as if for good measure. “And yet, here you are.”

“Destroyed,” Kylo repeated, his eyes going slightly out of focus. He’d been in something of a fugue state when he modified that hyperdrive, operating on what had felt like instinct. He’d thought he knew what to do from then on. He’d thought that the Force was guiding him.

Ultimately, the mission he had so eagerly accepted was just another way to lose himself. He’d been so willing to do anything, anything at all to help Rey, that he’d almost lost his life.

Before Exegol, before Ajan Kloss, when he’d told her of his talk with Palpatine, she’d responded derisively, ‘Serving another master?’ He’d denied it, and he’d believed his own denial. But it turned out she’d been more right than even she knew. Luke. Snoke. Grandfather. Palpatine. Rey. All he’d ever wanted was to be himself, to have his own identity. But all he’d ever done was look to others to define him.

“Ren,” Hux said.

Kylo shook his head. “Yeah.”

“You’re not about to disappear again, are you?”

Kylo let out a sort of half-chuckle. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I was just thinking.”

“Do I want to know?”

The wry humor in the question made Kylo smile a little. Hux probably would want to know; he was the type who wanted to know everything.

Kylo wasn’t sure he was ready to share his personal revelations with anyone. Strangely, though, Hux didn’t seem like a bad choice for it. Maybe that was because he wasn’t in a position to control Kylo. Or maybe Kylo was just tired of being alone with his thoughts.

It occurred to him that this might be the first time in his life that that had happened. He had no way of knowing how long Palpatine had been whispering in his ear, stealing his secrets, manipulating his thoughts and beliefs.

Kylo had had plenty of time to think on his long journey from Exegol, but he hadn’t thought too heavily on this aspect of things.

He decided to continue not thinking about it.

“Mortality,” he said instead of revealing any of that. “I almost died and didn't know.”

“Ah,” Hux said. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” He considered Kylo for a moment. Again, it looked like he wanted to say something.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Kylo said, squeezing Hux’s hand where it still lay under his.

A flush rose to Hux's cheeks. “You’ve changed,” he blurted.

“Yes,” Kylo agreed, nodding. “You’re very observant.”

Hux’s reaction to this was a beautiful, gratifying scowl and a deepening flush. “But not completely,” he amended.

Kylo cocked his head to the side, suddenly curious. He hadn’t done a whole lot of thinking about Hux before Exegol, but Hux obviously had opinions about him. “Do you think you know who I am?”

“The thing about men like you,” Hux answered, “is that it’s impossible to know how to please you. What works one day is the absolute wrong thing the next. And any misstep—” He cut himself off, cheek twitching.

“Yes?” Kylo prompted.

Hux pulled his hand away from Kylo's shoulder. “Before you interrogate me further,” he said, “I would have your word that you will not perform acts of violence on my ship, property, or person.”

Annoyed by both the turn of the conversation and the removal of Hux’s hand, Kylo opened his mouth to ask why Hux would even say that. He obviously hadn’t come here to hurt Hux. Hux was the only thing he had left.

Hux...was the only thing he had left.

Kylo closed his mouth.

“Well?” Hux demanded, and there was a small thread of tension in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Kylo sighed. “No, Hux, I’m not going to do anything. It’s like you said. I’ve changed.”

Hux wasn’t the only thing he had left. That was ridiculous. He didn’t even know why he’d had that thought.

He’d spent way too much time watching that security footage.

Hux took a long breath, then let it out. “I don’t know if I can believe you, but you haven’t harmed me yet, at least.” He raised his chin. “People like you expect things to go your way, and when they don’t, you punish everyone in the vicinity for it, regardless of fault.” His hands balled into fists in his lap. Kylo had to look away from the intensity in his eyes.

Snoke—Palpatine—had always encouraged Kylo to follow his feelings, to use them. Anger was especially useful, making Kylo powerful. He hadn’t worried about anything beyond that. After all, his goals were the First Order’s goals. His will was the First Order’s will. His pain was the First Order’s pain.

Only now he knew that wasn’t true at all. He’d been nothing more than a pawn of the emperor. The First Order had never really been his.

The ships and crew that escaped the doom of the Final Order—if anything, they’d been Hux’s, not Kylo’s. Which reminded him...

“Do you still want to rule the galaxy?” Kylo asked.