#my first art trade yeah !

[lilcatastrophe]

did an super fun art trade with @frostyblustar !

he requested merman matt and i asked him to draw me hunk being besties with any of the paladins n he chose keith. it’s absolutely adorable so go check it out on his blog noww as well as his other art, it’s all very cute <3

[razzledazzletrassh]

no major fic updates just yet guys TAKE MY WOY OC I MADE LIKE. April of last year IM PLUGGING SOME INFO ABOUT THIS GUY IN THE TAGS.

I may also redesign her soon or something. Make her more bug-like with some stuff. I can cook guys let me cook !!!

[thesafireartist]

@ubtendo ahhhhhhhhhhhh I looked back at your art of neve and why are you so good at drawing dramatic and badass poses and lightinggggg

Agsjahdjsh I tried a lineless style with your boy… I’M GONNA DO SOME ART OF HIM THAT’S DRAMATIC AND SUPER COOL TRUST but I feel I’ve kept you waiting long enough lmao so please enjoy!

[nymphrasis]

Ok so my art to-do list from, starting from what I will prioritize to work on from top to bottom: - Private large commission - Work on 10 custom art as part of a trade - ^^^ If no full info on what is needed, I will work on the Galarian Ponyta fusion adopts ( I'll just finish up what I have. Will not be a large batch ) - Work on Kuruna's blog art responses - Do a small handful of chibi Eevee fusions - Draw Tedaterra in a Kirby onesie - ^^^ If no drive for that yet, I will work on a few headshots ( Or pixel art ) of the characters for the Tale of the Kingdoms blog. - Do an art piece of Kuruna and my persona together ( Base on the anon ask that has been sitting in my box for a good while now ). - Work on more chibi Eevees - Do a lil fanart of tricks-n-illusions character ( Base on aro-pokeverse ask. I do apologize for me being late on this ) - More Kuruna blog art - Chibi Eevees again - Made in Abyss x Pokemon SV ( More specifically Area Zero ) crossover piece - ^^^ If I don't feel the drive to work on that yet, it would just be me making lil fun art of Kuruna instead. - Work on gift art for a small handful of friends ( It was supposed to be a Christmas gift but, well... Plans have made things get pushed back ^^" ) - Kuruna art for the blog - Work on art responses on ask-the-abomination - Try something I've always wanted to do was to make a very big art piece that includes a lot of my characters ( As it has been a decade since I last included multiple characters in the art piece. Aka, before I dabble my hand on digital art [ I started digital art on 2016 ] ). Have yet to decide on who and what scene it would be. - More chibi Eevee fusions, if I haven't finished yet - Fanart of actual POC characters ( Because I am tired of seeing people pushing aside existing POC characters when doing a fan piece [ Coughs at edits ]. So I want to try. I have yet to decide if it will be a headshot or halfbody. I don't feel up to doing a fullbody art ) - Yet more Kuruna blog stuff - Anatomy practice for larger size beings. More specifically the back ( Not in a sexual way. I really am still not too confident on drawing backs of larger size characters. I am more use to doing those for less heavy sizes and creatures ) - [ Input Sketch colored art raffle. Note that it is clean sketch like this . Have yet to decide if there will be shading involved ] - Kuruna blog art yippee There is a few I have in mind that I don't know where to put in the list. That few being: - Finish up this Kuruna art piece:

Work on random Pokefusion adopts ( This one is a random spur, as ideas do pop here and there. Not frequent )

Work on personal character art ( Of Pokemon ocs )

Random Kuruna art ( When I feel bored, need motivation, or had a random idea that I've wanted to draw out real quick )

Work on Arcy reworked blog ( Newer characters, with the exception of Arcy ).

Work on some art examples for my commissions ( As some lack more examples than others )

Do a new YCH that is something simplier and cute, price shouldnt be that high really.

Fanart of games I have been playing, like Eastward, Palworld, FFXIV, or even Digimon ( Speaking of which, I still havent done that Alphamon x Lunala fusion. This idea is a few years old and I just never dabble into it TwT" )

Dabble on doing clean sketch color comms. Price has yet to still be decided.

Work on fanart / gift art of the following blogs: ask-eden, omniandco, ask-the-royal-absol, askcomet, ask-a-silvy, ask-valiant-victory, sphaeramjourney, the-feral-one, ask-aeos-company, and lightofunova. More in the future ofc because I love the ask blog community!

Scenery practices of things I don't often do ( I need to practice more with places like cities and those that are more complex-decorated ).

Fix and finish this art piece of Namithia:

Finish this art piece of Eevrutty

Finish this art piece of a random lil creature ( Probs will sell it? Undecided yet because I do very much like them )

Finish this piece of Nerissa ( A character I have yet to decide whether or not I will remain keeping. I did removed her kingdom to revamp it to be the final sea kingdom to be falled [ Since there are two. One from the North and other from the South ] )

Create a few Pokefusions to be a part of a giveaway

Draw an art piece of my grandmother and have it be printed as a carry on bag design.

I think that is all I had in mind of what I've wanted to get done ;w; It is, uhhh.. A lot to say the least xD

[op3ra]

well it's the end of the year :,,,) what a year it was

i had a supremely awful twelve months to the point that i'm shocked i made it to december alive without having been taken out by a heart attack or something, but i'm really thankful for all the kind experiences i had on this site :3 there's a lot of good friends I've made on here--through gift exchanges and art trades and requests and chats in dms and through tags--so, overall, I would say it's been an okay year <3

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday Nebby!

@nebbychan -- As per your suggestion of doing something with your Modern AU takes on Dan and Kiya from MediEvil (specifically "Maybe the two chatting at a museum about their favorite time periods (Dan can brag about his minor degree in Medieval Studies and Kiya can do the same with her Egyptology studies)"), here's the pair at a museum, specifically chatting about Medieval European and Ancient Egyptian weaponry! Because, to be honest, the first things that popped into my head when thinking about the prompt were these two posts on wacky polearms by prokopetz. XD Hope you enjoy!

--

“...and that one, right there? That’s a Bohemian Ear-Spoon.”

Kiya raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “You are definitely making that one up.”

“Nope,” Dan told her with his biggest, toothiest grin. “Completely real. Check out the label.”

Kiya squinted at him, then turned her attention to the identification tag plastered to the case. A moment later, her eyes went wide. “What even,” she declared, standing up straight.

“I know!” Dan said, laughing. “And you know what? That thing is not nearly the weirdest polearm out there. I’ve seen one that looked like one of those fancy pointy spikes you see on top of churches with a blender attachment on the side.”

“Seriously? European weapons are bizarre,” was Kiya’s opinion on that. She glanced up at him. “So – did they tell you in uni why that one’s called an ‘Ear-Spoon’ of all things?”

“Oh, this is one of those weird ones where the original name doesn’t translate well to English,” Dan explained. “But most people think it’s ‘cause they call those two triangular bits forming the guard the ‘ears.’”

“Ah – well, that’s better than what I originally thought.”

Dan tilted his head. “Do I want to know?”

Kiya made a motion like she was jamming something into her ear while pulling a face. “I think you can guess.”

Dan grimaced, his very teeth seeming to flex with the motion. “Yeah...kind of prefer to avoid that kind of ear-spooning,” he said, absently brushing his bangs a little more over his eye patch.

Kiya winced. “Yeah, I – sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Dan assured her, holding up his hands with an awkward grin. “Shit happens, you know? It’s not a big deal or anything. I definitely don’t want it spoiling our date.”

“Me either.” Kiya took one of his hands, smiling warmly. “I’m having a really good time. I didn’t expect learning about the fifty million polearms Medieval Europe invented would be so interesting.”

Dan snorted. “Well, I gotta make sure someone other than me gets some use out of my minor,” he said, smile much more genuine now. “And it is pretty neat that they came up with so many different variations. You wouldn’t think there would be that many ways to change up ‘sharp pointy metal bit on stick.’” He regarded Kiya curiously. “You get anything like that with Ancient Egyptian weaponry?”

“Not really – Ancient Egypt honestly had something of a problem making any effective weapons until the New Kingdom period,” Kiya said, slipping into “curator” mode. “And even then, they mainly advanced because they’d been conquered by the Hyksos – foreign rulers who slipped into power while the main Egyptian dynasty was crumbling – and they were able to pilfer a lot of knowledge of arms off them before they drove them out.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Mainly, using bronze tips on their spears to help them hold an edge better and longer,” Kiya said with a little chuckle. “Though they also created the javelin in that time, and they used that to pretty great effect in their later campaigns. Honestly, though, my favorite Egyptian weapon from that time period is the Khopesh.”

“Oh?” Dan leaned in, intrigued. “What’s that? Guessing not a spear?”

“Nope – a large curved sword that looks something like a sickle,” Kiya told him, grinning. “Only with the sharp edge on the outside. Pharaohs from that time period are often depicted wielding it because it was known as a very dangerous and powerful weapon – one more than fit for a king.” She giggled. “And like your Ear-Spoon, the name might come from a body part – some scholars believe it was derived from the Egyptian word for ‘leg’ because it looks vaguely like a haunch of beef.”

Dan laughed. “That’s great!” He looked around the room. “You think they might have one of those here? I know they’ve got an Egyptian exhibit...”

Kiya linked her arm through his, face bright. “Let’s go and find out.”

--

Bohemian Ear-Spoon On Wikipedia

Ancient Egyptian Weapons: The Evolution of Warfare

Khopesh On Wikipedia

[a-special-ship-safe-space]

uhhh i should have probably showed in the dms BUTTTT.. Art trade for @luaseternal (my artstyle is very cartoony dfjnfv) warning for slight blood (not a lot of it just a tiny bit-)

i wanted to try something new ANDDDDD evil f/os i always have this ONEEEE image in my head uh- hope you like it lol ^^' (i cannot draw tattoos good i hope you can forgive me on that/also i know its probably outta character so im sorry for that as well..)

take your time with your thing as well dont rush ^^'

[satellite-evans]

clumsy

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Your clumsiness is going to be the death of Lando.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: injuries, fluff, worried Lando

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The first time Lando saw you trip over nothing, he thought it was a one-time thing. Maybe you were just tired, maybe the floor was uneven, maybe it was just bad luck. But after months of dating, he realized it was just... you.

You were a walking hazard. A human magnet for misfortune. A professional at collecting bruises, scrapes, and band-aids like they were limited-edition collectibles.

And, unfortunately for Lando, that meant he was constantly on high alert.

“Babe!” His panicked voice rang out as he watched you stumble over absolutely nothing on the kitchen floor. In one fluid motion, he darted forward, catching you before you could face-plant into the counter. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you from further self-destruction.

You blinked up at him, sheepish. “Oops.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, holding you steady. “How does this keep happening?”

“I have my theories.” You shrugged, playfully tapping your temple. “Faulty wiring.”

He shook his head, scanning you for any new injuries with the practiced precision of someone who had done this far too many times. “You need bubble wrap. No, actually, I’m getting you a helmet.”

You giggled, resting your hands on his chest. “A helmet for walking?”

“Yes. And knee pads. And elbow pads. And maybe a full-body suit.” He crouched slightly, running his fingers over a fresh bruise forming on your knee. His lips pressed together in frustration. “When did this happen?”

You followed his gaze, only now noticing the purple splotch decorating your skin. “Uh… I have no idea actually.”

Lando groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Love, you’re killing me.”

You grinned, cupping his face between your hands. “But you love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed dramatically, but the fond smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I swear, one of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I’ll try not to,” you teased, pecking his lips. “No promises, though.”

Despite his exaggerated complaints, he was always there to patch you up. He had a first-aid kit permanently stocked—no, actually, he had multiple, one in the car, one in the bathroom, and a travel-sized version in his bag. He had mastered the art of wrapping bandages, applying ointments, and kissing away the pain (even if you insisted that last part was unnecessary).

At this point, he was convinced he could get a medical degree solely from the amount of practice he had.

And yet, no matter how many times he swore he’d wrap you in protective gear, he never failed to hold onto you just a little tighter, watching out for stray corners, slippery floors, and rogue table edges like they were mortal enemies.

Because, as exhausting as it was, he wouldn’t trade you—or your inexplicable ability to defy gravity—for anything.

Even if it meant keeping an ice pack ready at all times.

As if on cue, you turned to walk away and immediately stubbed your toe on the kitchen island.

“Ow! Shit!”

Lando just groaned, rubbing his temples. “That’s it. I’m putting you in a bubble.”

“That seems excessive.”

“You just injured yourself standing still!”

You grinned sheepishly. “Okay, fair point.”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re a menace.”

“Your menace,” you corrected, snuggling into him.

He sighed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah. My menace.”

You were chopping vegetables, fully focused—well, as focused as you ever were when handling sharp objects—when you somehow managed to cut yourself with the knife.

The sharp sting made you gasp, and almost instantly, blood welled up from the deeper cut. Before you could even fully process what had happened, Lando was already at your side. He had been watching you closely (as he often did whenever you were near anything remotely dangerous), and the moment he saw the slip, he sprang into action.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. “Alright, that’s enough knife duty for you.”

His voice was laced with worry, though he tried to mask it with his usual teasing tone. His eyes darted to your finger, the cut deeper than the usual minor scrapes you tended to collect. Without hesitation, he led you to the sink, turning on the tap and holding your hand under the cool water.

“You know, normal people don’t injure themselves every day,” he tried to joke, though his brows were furrowed as he watched the water run red.

You hissed at the sting but still managed a lopsided grin. “I like to keep life exciting.”

Lando huffed a laugh, though there was a tightness in his jaw. “Yeah, well, I’d prefer if you found a less hazardous way to do that.”

After patting your hand dry with a towel, he grabbed the first-aid kit (which, at this point, he always kept within arm’s reach). His movements were careful, almost practiced, as he disinfected the wound. His fingers ghosted over your skin with such tenderness it almost distracted you from the sting of the antiseptic.

“This is deeper than your usual cuts,” he muttered, pressing a sterile gauze pad to your finger before wrapping it securely in a bandage. “It doesn't need stitches thankfully but you really need to be more careful.”

You winced, flexing your fingers slightly. “Well, at least I have you to patch me up.”

He sighed, shaking his head, but the corner of his lips twitched upward. When he was done, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“There. Good as new,” he murmured, but his grip on your hand remained firm, like he was reluctant to let go.

You wiggled your fingers dramatically. “Wow, a miraculous recovery. See? This is why I keep you around.”

Lando scoffed, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m just your personal medic now?”

“Pretty much.” You shot him a cheeky wink before immediately reaching for the knife again.

Before you could even graze the handle, Lando snatched it away with lightning-fast reflexes. “Absolutely not.”

You pouted, eyes wide with faux innocence. “I was just gonna—”

“Nope.” He held the knife out of your reach, shooting you a pointed look. “I’m officially banning you from sharp objects.”

You crossed your arms, watching as he took over the cutting board and started chopping with ease. “So, what, I just sit here and do nothing?”

Lando smirked. “Exactly. Just sit there and be adorable.”

Your lips curled into a slow grin. “You think I’m adorable?”

His chopping faltered for a split second, and you caught the way his ears tinged pink. He rolled his eyes, refusing to meet your gaze. “Shut up.”

But when you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, you felt him smile against your touch.

A few days later, the two of you were strolling through the paddock, the soft air filled with chatter. It was the usual pre-race chaos—engineers darting between garages, reporters setting up for interviews, and fans cheering from the barriers.

Lando had a firm grip on your hand, partly because he liked holding it, but mostly because he had learned that letting go of you for even a second increased the chances of you tripping over something by approximately 100%.

Still, despite his best efforts, it happened.

One second, you were walking beside him, mid-sentence about what snacks they had in hospitality. The next, you were suddenly pitching forward with a startled yelp, your foot catching on a stray cable snaking across the ground.

Lando reacted instantly. With reflexes honed by years of racing at breakneck speeds, he lunged forward, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist just before you could crash onto the hard concrete.

“Alright, that’s it,” he huffed, keeping you firmly against him as you steadied yourself. “I’m officially holding onto you for the rest of the day.”

You barely even fought it, leaning into him with an amused grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather you not break an ankle before my race,” he muttered, shooting a glance down at your shin. His jaw clenched at the sight of fresh bruises already forming. “How do you even manage this?”

You shrugged as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Raw talent.”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head, though the corners of his lips twitched. He tugged you even closer, keeping a protective arm around your waist as the two of you continued walking. From then on, any time there was so much as a crack in the pavement, he subtly steered you around it, refusing to take any more chances.

Lando’s race had gone well. Not a win, but a solid finish—good points, a few impressive overtakes, and, most importantly, no major mistakes. After the usual post-race interviews and debrief, all he wanted was to find you, wrap you up in a hug, and maybe gloat a little about how well he managed his tires.

But when he finally spotted you in the motorhome, his relief was short-lived.

You were sitting on one of the couches, clutching your ankle with an ice pack balanced precariously over what looked like a nasty bruise. Your expression was sheepish, but there was a telltale wince every time you shifted.

Lando’s stomach dropped.

“What the hell happened?” His voice was sharp with concern as he strode over, kneeling beside you in an instant. His eyes scanned over you, heart pounding at the thought of what he might find.

You attempted a grin, lifting the ice pack slightly to show off the deepening purple splotch spreading over your skin. “Well, you told me not to break anything before your race… so I did it during your race instead.”

You let out a small, nervous chuckle, expecting him to roll his eyes or make some sarcastic comment.

But Lando didn’t laugh.

His jaw clenched, his usual lighthearted expression darkened with something much more serious. “That’s not funny.” His voice was quieter now, more strained.

You swallowed, the weight of his worry sinking in. “Lando, it’s just a bruise. I didn’t actually break anything.”

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his damp curls. “What happened?”

You shifted slightly, the movement making you wince again. “I was walking back from the paddock, and some guy wasn’t looking where he was going—ran right into me. I tripped over a barrier and, well… gravity did its thing.”

Lando closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to contain his frustration. “Jesus, Y/N.” His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure where he could touch without hurting you.

You sighed, placing your hand over his. “Hey, it’s okay. It just looks worse than it is.”

He gave you a look—one of those signature Lando Norris you’re full of shit expressions. “Yeah? So if I press here, it won’t hurt?” He gently placed his hand near the worst of the bruise.

You immediately flinched. “Ow, okay! Point made.”

Lando groaned, rubbing his face. “I leave you alone for one race.”

You pouted. “To be fair, I survived the whole weekend without getting injured until the race. I think that’s progress.”

Lando wasn’t amused. Instead, he carefully lifted your injured leg, maneuvering it so it was resting on his lap as he adjusted the ice pack. His touch was gentle, but his brows remained furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice softer now. “I just… hate seeing you get hurt.”

Your chest tightened at the genuine concern laced in his words. You reached up, cupping his face with your free hand. “I know.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. “Promise me you’ll at least try to be more careful?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I promise to try.”

Lando huffed, clearly not satisfied, but he let it go—mostly. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before shifting to kiss the top of your knee, just above the bruise.

“You’re still getting the bubble wrap,” he mumbled against your skin.

You giggled. “And a helmet?”

“And a helmet.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Where Things Bloom

Summary: When a spring festival in your Arkansas hometown brings you face to face with Tyler Owens, the one that got away, old feelings begin to bloom alongside the season’s first wildflowers. As you  reconnect beneath twinkling lights and familiar skies, a slow dance and a stolen kiss spark the possibility of a second chance…if you’re both brave enough to chase it.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,949

The first true spring Saturday had everyone in town spilling out into the sunshine, trading heavy coats for light flannels, coffee for lemonade. You hadn’t planned on staying long—just enough time to grab a jar of honey and maybe some early strawberries before heading back to your mom’s place. But small town life had other plans.

You’d just turned toward a table of mason jars filled with wildflower arrangements when a familiar voice tugged at your memory.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back here before the dogwoods bloomed.”

You turned, heart stuttering.

Tyler Owens stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, sun catching in the tousle of his hair. He looked the same, but steadier somehow. Tanned from the field, a few new creases near his eyes. Still Tyler, though. Still him.

“Hey,” you managed, offering a half-smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He stepped closer, the scent of fresh-cut grass and engine grease faint on him. “Yeah? Thought I was overdue to run into a ghost.”

You laughed softly, unsure if it was the warmth of the sun or his tone that spread through your chest. “Guess I have been a bit of a ghost around here lately.”

He nodded once, eyes dipping toward the table beside you. “Still like wildflowers?”

You glanced down. Lavender, daisies, bluebells. “Always.”

There was a moment then, a pause wrapped in a memory. Of long drives and laughing too loud. Of a summer that once felt like it’d never end. You hadn’t expected this kind of quiet to come with seeing him again. You expected more ache. More anger. But all you felt was warmth.

“You still chasing?” you asked, nodding toward the old pickup parked just off the square, storm gear visible in the backseat.

Tyler glanced at it, then back at you. “Yeah. Season’s about to get busy. Just passing through, helping my uncle with the booth this morning.” He nodded toward a table filled with jars of pickled okra and spicy peach preserves.

“Didn’t peg you as a jam guy,” you teased.

His grin was slow, tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I’m not. But family’s family.”

Another beat. The kind that stretched, waiting to become something more.

“You going to the Bloom Festival?” he asked casually, as if it were just another event and not a thread waiting to pull something loose between you.

“Maybe,” you said. “Depends on the weather.”

Tyler smiled like he knew you didn’t mean the sky.

“Well,” he said, stepping back. “Hope I see you there.”

* * * * *

The Bloom Festival was still three days away, but the town square was already buzzing like a beehive. Strings of pastel flags were being hung from the lampposts, teenagers were zip tying flower garlands to the railings, and someone had parked a food truck too close to the fountain again judging by the way your mom was scowling and flapping her clipboard.

You adjusted the crate of mason jar centerpieces in your arms and tried not to overthink the fact that you’d been roped into this. Temporary visits shouldn’t come with manual labor, but your mom had that “small town volunteer guilt” magic down to an art form.

“Put those on the table near the gazebo, sweetheart!” She called over her shoulder.

You sighed and started toward the center of the square then paused when you caught sight of a familiar truck pulling in, storm gear still crammed in the backseat.

Tyler.

He stepped out, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, laughing at something the person on the other end said. His uncle emerged from the booth behind him, pointing at a half assembled canopy.

You didn’t move, even when your mom appeared beside you with a fresh clipboard and a knowing smile.

“He’s still handsome,” she said, like she was offering neutral weather commentary.

You gave her a look. “Mom.”

“I’m just saying. He was always polite. Good with tools. Good teeth.”

“Please stop talking.”

She smirked and handed you a spool of ribbon. “He’s setting up the chili booth. Go help him tie up the banner. You're tall enough to get the other side.”

You were barely processing how ribbon related to height when she turned on her heel and marched off, already berating the florist for overusing fake hydrangeas.

You lingered for a beat. Then two.

And then, well...what was one more awkward conversation among many?

Tyler was wrestling with the canopy legs when you reached him. He looked up just as you stopped beside him, squinting against the sun.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he said, “I’d say you’re following me.”

You raised the spool of ribbon. “Apparently, I’m tall and useful.”

He laughed. The sound was low, warm. The kind that hadn’t changed since you were nineteen.

“Guess I could use a tall assistant.” He nodded toward the booth. “Uncle Jim thinks this whole thing’s gonna collapse if we don’t decorate it like a wedding arch.”

“So we’re going for ‘rustic springtime barn elopement’?”

“Exactly.” He stepped back, giving you room to tie one end of the ribbon to the post while he worked on the other.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just tentative. Like both of you were waiting to see who would touch the past first.

“I heard you were living in Tulsa now,” he said after a moment, fingers careful as he looped the ribbon.

“Yeah. Mostly remote work these days. Figured it’d be nice to spend a few weeks here while I could.”

His eyes flicked to yours. “Didn’t expect to see you back.”

“Didn’t expect to want to come back,” you admitted.

He smiled, soft and lopsided. “It gets under your skin, doesn’t it?”

“The town or the people?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stepped back to check the banner’s angle, then looked at you again.

“Both,” he said quietly.

There was a weight in that word. Both.

You looked away first, fiddling with the edge of the ribbon. “Your mom’s still running the weather radio, right?”

“Yeah. And still calling me every time she hears thunder more than fifty miles out.”

You laughed. “Some things never change.”

Tyler smiled again, and this time it lingered. “You planning to stick around for the festival?”

“I might.”

“I hope you do.” He cleared his throat. “They’re doing fireworks this year. Didn’t used to.”

“Sounds like the whole town’s blooming.”

His gaze caught on yours. “Maybe it is.”

Someone called his name from across the square—his uncle, gesturing toward a stack of tables.

Tyler nodded in that direction, then looked back at you.

“I should—”

“Yeah, no, go ahead.”

You both stepped away at the same time and nearly collided. His hand caught your elbow instinctively, steadying you.

And then he let go like it startled him.

“See you around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to ignore the heat blooming just under your skin. “See you.”

You watched him walk away again—twice now in as many days—and couldn’t shake the way your chest ached like something soft and green pushing through thawed ground.

* * * * *

The Bloom Festival unfolded like something out of a postcard—lanterns strung between trees, flowers tied to every available post, the air thick with the scent of funnel cakes and fresh-cut grass. Kids darted between stalls with sticky fingers and painted faces, and a local band strummed out a lazy, romantic version of an old country song on the makeshift stage near the gazebo.

You wandered past booths of local honey, sunflowers, and hand-painted signs, a lemonade in one hand and a quiet tug in your chest.

It had been a good day.

It just felt like something was missing.

You were admiring a row of mason jars filled with blooms—each one grown by the elementary school kids and labeled with scrawled handwriting—when someone stepped beside you.

“You always did like the bluebonnets.”

You looked up, heart skipping. Tyler.

He was holding a plastic cup of sweet tea, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair slightly mussed like he’d run a hand through it too many times. His smile was crooked, easy.

You smiled back. “You remembered that?”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Some things stick.”

You turned back to the flowers, your voice quieter now. “This whole day’s been… sweet. Almost too sweet.”

“Like a memory that’s trying too hard?”

You looked at him, surprised by the way he nailed it.

“Yeah,” you said. “Exactly like that.”

The music picked up behind you, soft fiddle and steel guitar carrying through the warm spring air. You watched as couples slowly made their way to the dance area near the gazebo—young and old, swaying like they had nowhere else to be.

Tyler glanced toward the music, then back at you.

“Dance with me?”

It wasn’t cocky or pushy. Just simple. Honest.

You hesitated for a breath, then nodded.

He took your cup and his, setting them on a nearby table, then offered his hand.

And you took it.

The two of you moved toward the lights, the world narrowing to the soft thrum of the music and the press of his hand at the small of your back.

At first, the steps felt a little uncertain. It had been a while since you danced with anyone like this—especially him. But Tyler was steady. Warm. Familiar.

Like a favorite song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here again?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes found yours. “I hoped.”

You studied him for a moment. “You could’ve called.”

“I could’ve,” he admitted. “But I figured if you wanted to come back, you would. And when you did… I didn’t want to rush it. Didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“You were never good with timing.”

Tyler smiled, a little sheepish. “I’m trying to get better.”

The song slowed even more, and his hand slid from your back to your waist, the other still holding yours like it was something precious.

“You scare me, you know,” you said suddenly, the words spilling without permission.

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because it still feels easy with you. Too easy. Like we could just fall right back into it.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

You looked up at him, heart hammering.

“What if it doesn’t work again?”

Tyler’s voice was gentle. “Then at least we gave it a second chance.”

The lights glowed soft above you, warm and golden, casting halos around the edges of his face. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand. And for a moment, the world was quiet.

Then he leaned in.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t urgent or rushed. It was steady, sure. The kind of kiss that says I missed you and I remember everything and I want more time —all in one breath.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“I’m gonna be on the road a lot,” he said, voice low. “Storm season’s coming. It won’t be easy.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to miss the chance this time. If you’re willing…”

You nodded before he could finish.

“I am.”

He smiled again, relief blooming in his expression like spring come early.

Then the song changed, something faster now, kids laughing as they darted through the dance area and fireworks crackled somewhere in the distance. But you didn’t move. Neither did he.

You just stayed there, in the center of the square, with the scent of flowers all around and the bloom of something new—and somehow familiar—between you.

[apartmentsmoke]

Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]

[voidsuites]

CHALLENGERSVERSARY BOT RELEASE !!! (4/26/25) ⌢ 🎾 .ᐟ

ART DONALDSON ・゜゜・．dreams. los angeles is the city of dreams, and making it in such a place full of creativity and opportunity is the end goal for an aspiring actor like you. you’re grateful for the city and its generosity thus far— it’d given you your jazz musician, art after your breakup and consequent slump in acting jobs. your goals may be shifting— broadening just a bit to allow for your one-man play, your budding career, and art to all fit comfortably within them— but there’s always going to be ups-and-downs. what you didn’t anticipate, though, is art to trade in his own passion to succeed for something steady and stifling; when did he start to play it safe, and why is it somehow your fault? (la la land!au)

PATRICK ZWEIG ・゜゜・．can’t take my eyes off you. sooo… patrick hadn’t kissed you at the party the other night— oops. while not sure why it’s such a faux pas for you, patrick’s more concerned with winning you over rather than dwelling on past mistakes. he’s taken the time to really make it up to you, and hopefully he’ll manage to get back into your good graces (lest all his hard work gone into chipping at your walls goes to waste). you’re just too good to be true, after all, and maybe this thing’s more than just a ruse; maybe it’s love. (10 things i hate about you!au)

TASHI DUNCAN ・゜゜・．in the studio. you and tashi have been peers in the pop music space since both of you started out; however, she took home the grammys awards for her album SERVE! that should’ve been yours, and things have been off since. you’re normally amicable to work with but not a pushover, hence why you’re so adamant about not doing a collaboration with her despite the numbers it’d do on the charts. but what the label wants, it gets— and it wants you to have some studio time with tashi duncan. (pop star!au)

ART PATRICK TASHI ・゜゜・．cabin fever. you and tashi are no means trust-fund babies, so it's unfamiliar territory for both of you when art and patrick suggest a trip to the donaldsons' cabin to ski for winter break. while it may not be time to hit the slopes just yet, it's more than an opportune time to truly take advantage of having all three of them in such close quarters without worrying about noise complaints from your RA. what's the worst that could happen with the four of you shacking up in mammoth for two weeks? (ski trip/winter break!au)

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 15K! one year of the tennis movie... wow. i was a bit later to the game and saw challengers in theaters in june during a reissue, but i am so lucky and grateful that i did. not only did it give us iconic scenes, an insane soundtrack, and tashi duncan, it gave us a community of creative and talented people that i am so lucky to be a a part of! challengersblr is probably the first fandom space i've actively participated + engaged with others in, and i have made so many great friends through our shared love of the movie. in luca guadagnino we trust!!!!!! :) if u want more of me u can join my community if u want to… or don’t— too busy taking such good care of my white boys or whatever. blah blah blah, the points that matter, i too would let her fuck me with a racket, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

[kxsagi]

hii i love ur writing !! Can i request smth for nagi like where hes insecure cus yk how its canon that people at his school think of him as weird and a loner and they say that reader is too good for him and can do better, so reader just comforts him and stuff n hes super clingy!! thankyou❤️❤️

“𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

a/n: thank you so much lovey! i hope you enjoy this cute nagi fluff, especially after what happened to him 😔

i love those comments where it’s like “did you know i scored the first goal in the blue lock vs. U–” “just put the fries in the bag bro”

(don't know art credits sorry)

nagi’s fingers tugged at the sleeve of your shirt, his head resting on your shoulder as you sat on the couch in your room. something was off about him today. he’d been much more quiet, his usual chill energy completely drained. you could tell something was wrong. 

“hey,” you asked softly, running your fingers through his hair. “what’s up? you’ve been all... gloomy.” 

nagi sighed dramatically, his body sinking further into the couch as if the weight of the world had fallen on him. “people at school... they think i’m weird.” he said it like it was the most tragic thing ever. “and... they said you’re too good for me. that you could do better.” 

you raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by his sudden insecurity. “are they serious? who are these people, and why are they so wrong?” 

nagi nodded solemnly, not looking up. “they said you could do better. like, i’m just... weird and a loner and... i can’t even play normal games with them without... showing off.” 

you gave him an exaggerated pout. “aw, poor nagi. who cares what they think? they probably can’t even spell 'normal.'” 

he peeked up at you, blinking like a confused kitten. “what do you mean?” 

“it’s just, like... school people are lame. i’m with you because you’re you.” you grinned. “and to be honest, they’re just upset that you’re crushing their egos and humbling them. it’s endearing.” 

nagi scrunched his face up. “endearing?” 

“yeah! like, i’d totally choose a weird, clingy boyfriend over a regular, ‘normal’ guy any day.” 

he frowned, but his eyes softened just a little, a hint of a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. “so... i’m your weird clingy boyfriend, huh?” 

“yep.” you poked his side. “and if anyone’s got a problem with that, i’ll tell them to fight me.” you paused, then smirked. “but i’ll probably lose. though that won’t stop me from trying!” 

nagi snorted, his grip tightening on your arm like you were his lifeline. “you’d lose? seriously?” 

“hey, i’ve never thrown hands before. besides, i’d just distract them with my charm and incredible sarcasm.” you made a dramatic gesture. “it’s a talent.” 

nagi’s head fell against your shoulder, his breath a little shaky as if he’d been holding back a sigh of relief. “so, you’re not going anywhere, right?” 

you chuckled softly, ruffling his hair. “nah. i’m stuck with you. you’re just too cute when you get all clingy. i wouldn’t trade you for the world.” 

“promise?” 

“promise.” 

he immediately wrapped both arms around you like he was trying to turn into a human octopus. “good. because if you leave, i’ll... i’ll eat everything in the fridge and not share any with you.” 

you gasped dramatically, clutching your chest. “that’s a threat, nagi. i don’t know if i can forgive that.” 

he grinned mischievously, his hands tightening even more around you. “i’m serious. no chips. no candy. no cake. no bread. nothing.” 

“you wouldn’t.” you raised an eyebrow, trying to sound serious. 

he smirked. “watch me.” 

you both burst into laughter, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. nagi was still clingy, still insecure, but his usual playful, carefree self was starting to shine through again. as he buried his face back into your neck, you couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation was. 

“i’m never leaving you,” you promised, pulling him closer. 

“good.” he mumbled, his voice already muffled as he tried to get even closer. “because i’m not letting go.” 

you grinned, feeling the weight of the moment lift off your shoulders. “alright, clingy boyfriend. but i’m not sharing my snacks.” 

“deal.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[flippinpancakes64]

Hello, I absolutely love your work. iv re read your stuff so many times that it's getting concerning.

Can I request the cullens x artist reader who made a painting of them I just think that would be cute

The Cullens with an Artist! Reader

Thank you?!?! I suggest seeking mental help for rereading my bad stories tho

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

We all know that he is an artist too

He made Bella a whole song on the piano

As someone who can play the piano, that’s not easy

So he definitely loves that you’re also artistic

For you, he’s a muse

I mean, how could he not be

Literally the definition of perfect

So obvs you sketch him a lot

When he finds an almost finished painting one day of him, he is floored

He can never seem to wrap his mind around the fact that you are just as obsessed with him as he is with you

He hangs it up

Even if it’s not finished

If you insist on finishing it, he will begrudgingly take it down and give it back

But as soon as it’s done it’s all his

Alice:

She’s also an artist

But more with fashion

And design

She’s not so well-versed with the classical arts like painting or sketching

So she always loves seeing your paintings

She’s a coexistence girly

She loves to just be doing something while you’re painting

You know just sort of existing in the same space at the same time

The day you give her the painting, she is so surprised

It was so difficult for you to hide this from her

Especially with her gift

She absolutely loves it

She hangs it in the main room of the Cullen house

She wants absolutely everyone to see it and acknowledge how talented her s/o is

Jasper:

He loves the arts

They’re relaxing to him

Some of his favorite classes he’s ever taken in all of the schools they’ve been at have been art classes

He’s not good by any means, but he loves it anyway

Art dates with him are a must

He would love that tiktok trend where you and your partner trade paintings every couple of minutes

Never misses an opportunity to tell you that he loves your work

He honestly almost started crying when you showed him your painting of him

You made him look so happy, so peaceful

He’s used to being perceived as a monster

Definitely hangs it up

But only in his room

He wants to be the only one to see it

Rosalie:

She’s more of a technical, sciencey person

Not to say she doesn’t like art

Just that she doesn’t necessarily enjoy making it

She can definitely appreciate good work tho

And she loves everything you make

She buys you new supplies all of the time

If just one pen ran out of ink in your favorite set, she would buy you a whole new set

When you give her that first painting though, she’s obsessed

She wants at least 20 more by tomorrow

But actually, she knows that she’s beautiful

But something about the way you capture her is just so different she loves it

Emmett:

He’s not an art person either

He’s a bit of a meathead

But he can appreciate art

Probably not as deeply as other people can

But he know when it looks good

And he genuinely thinks you’re the best artist ever

He will gladly put all of your little doodles in the clear pockets of his binders

And hang them on his locker

When you give him the painting of him he’s actually dumbfounded

Like awestruck

What do you mean the best artist in the world just made a painting of him?

Get ready to be cuddled for the rest of the night

Esme:

Resident artist

We already knew that tho

I’m pretty sure it’s said that she’s the one who made the grad cap piece?

Idk

Either way she loves art

Pottery dates, painting picnics, date nights at the art museum

She loves it

So if you were to ever paint her and give it to her?

Yeah she’s gonna start crying

She just loves art, she loves you, and you put them together and she’s so in love

She hangs it in the main room

It doesn’t matter if the colors clash

And it’s never coming down

Carlisle:

Another appreciater of the arts

I mean, he probably knew Da Vinci on a personal level this guy is so old

So it’s no shock

Whenever he’s home and hanging out with you, he loves to watch you paint or draw

Especially if he’s doing some paperwork

I just feel like he would like the company while he’s working

Now I don’t see Carlisle as the type of guy to necessarily enjoy pictures or paintings of himself

The only portraits he has in his office are either him in a crowd or family photos

So when you give him a portrait of himself, he’s a little shocked at first

He doesn’t want to seem narcissistic, but damn you made him look good

He hangs it up in your shared bedroom

Even though he knows he will likely never have guests who would see it, he wants to make sure it’s hidden

He just doesn’t want people to think he’s vain

But he secretly loves it so much

Vampire! Bella:

I think I’ve talked about it before but this girl would have loved deviantart

Rip Bella you would have loved fan art of your favorite characters

But she totally had an artsy phase

I don’t think she’s necessarily good or bad

She just prefers to look at art rather than make it

So that’s where you come in

She loves just watching you work

Every once in a while she paints with you

But she always feels inferior when she looks at what you made vs what she made

So she usually just sticks to admiring

The first time you give her a portrait of herself, she doesn’t even know what to do

She’s still getting used to actually perceiving herself as beautiful

And then you capture her like she’s a goddess?

She needs to lie down

She loves it tho

[soupthatistohot]

BSD Stormbringer Manga Ch. 1: Chuuya as a "Dark Gem"

AKA: I got around to reading the first chapter of the Stormbringer manga and I Have Thoughts!

A decent chunk of this first chapter is taken up by the gem trade being explained in-depth, which seems a bit... excessive. Even the translator noted as much in the version I read:

It begs the question of why they spent so much time on this. At least part of the reason is to give the reader an idea of what Chuuya's current role in the Port Mafia entails, providing some necessary context (since timeline-wise the last we saw of him was in 15 and it's now roughly a year later). But I also think it's an extended metaphor for Chuuya as a person (spoilers for the rest of stormbringer ahead).

The part that really jumped out to me was this sequence of panels:

The first two talk about "dark" gems and how they cannot enter the world of light, which is VERY reminiscent of Kouyou's rhetoric when talking about Kyouka (and herself, as she's projecting her trauma onto Kyouka):

The third panel from SB also interests me as it claims that these gems are given a second chance, specifically through how the Port Mafia has reshaped them.

In 15, Mori says that only a diamond can polish another diamond, in reference to soukoku -- so I don't really think it's a large leap to make here that the "dark" gems here are a stand-in for Chuuya himself.

If you consider the connection to Kouyou's rhetoric, that follows because Chuuya is under her tutelage at this point in time, she's the one who oversees his work when he joins the PM and arguably one of the people he's closest to in the organization. There's a decent chance that she's told him similar things that she told Kyouka -- that they belong to the world of darkness and cannot be brought into the light.

This is further supported by the fact that one of the central focuses of Stormbringer is Chuuya's past. He has a "dark" past on multiple levels. The obvious being that he was kidnapped and experimented on to become a vessel for Arahabaki, his past is dark because its horrible. But also he doesn't remember his past at this point, so it's dark because it's literally shrouded in his memory -- his "origins unknown" to him.

And so, Chuuya is a dark gem (a black diamond, perhaps) that has been taken in by the Port Mafia. In doing so, he is no longer the street kid he used to be, scrounging to survive with his ragtag gang. Instead, he's been reshaped -- he wears suits now, he's a 16 y/o in charge of the gem trade -- he's been "given a second chance."

So yeah, basically my interpretation of this is that the allusions to Chuuya's dark past are a kind of foreshadowing for not only what came before, but also what's to come throughout the course of Stormbringer. This story is very focused on the intermingling of past and present, as well as issues of identity and how it is shaped -- is Chuuya a human with free will, or can his existence be chalked up to being lines of code? What bearing does the past have on the present? This is all subtle set-up for these emerging themes.

PS: I don't have any in-depth analysis for this, but the imagery referencing Chuuya's time being experimented on and the clone is QUITE heavy-handed here at the beginning. I'm loving all the intentionality behind the art so far!

[barblaz-arts]

Hi! :) Back when viv was still developing hazbin and making speed draws, she would often draw art of vaggie with these unique eyes surrounding and staring at her, and the art would display vaggie feeling annoyed or uneasy. I find it still very interesting and was wondering if these were eyes that represented all the demons she killed and her guilt? or had to do with something else entirely. We’re still not completely sure if these are still present in current hazbin rn but I was curious on what your take, theories and over all thoughts are on it! Love your comics and AUs on Chaggie sm and can’t wait to see more!

Oh yeah that! I always did find that pretty neat when it came to her earlier arts. Even more interesting, is that this concept was carried over even in one of her trading cards.

I think the eyes are meant to represent a lot of things tbh, especially since eyes in the show had been associated with both Heaven and Hell.

Let's look at Hell's side first.

Your interpretation about the eyes being the demons she killed I think is one of the things it's supposed to mean. I don't know the source, so I dont consider this info canon, but I found out somewhere that the eyes that can be seen all over Hell is supposed to be what remains of the demons the Exorcists have killed. Like being cleansed by angelic steel can't completely erase them but simply make them part of Hell, if no longer sentient.

I have my doubts though, because in the intro backstory, the eyes seem to have already been in Hell before the Exterminations began.

And in the intro, the eyes showed up specifically after Charlie talked about Sin worming its way to humanity because of what Lilith and Lucifer convinced Eve to do. If this timing is in any way relevant, the eyes could be related to Roo aka The Root of Evil instead.

I'm not sure if other characters were drawn with these disembodied eyes as much as Vaggie has been. But at the very least, I think Vaggie's the one drawn the most often with them.

Anyways, considering all this, the more obvious and plausible answer could be that the eyes was just Vivzie's way of foreshadowing her guilt over Exterminating demons. But if Vaggie can be allowed to be more involved with the biggest bad of the show in a more direct way than just her close proximity with the main protag, then maybe it's even meant to foreshadow even more than we already know. I don't have a lot of hope for this tbh. It's not like Vaggie was a very important angel. Exorcists gave me the impression that they could be pretty low in Heaven's hierarchy. So like, idk why this could foreshadow a connection with Roo, but it is a super interesting thought to entertain lol

Now on Heaven's side though, the eyes could also just be for a touch of tragic irony I guess. Angels in the old testament looked a lot closer to this...

... Lotsa eyes and shit. And that's why the seraphs like Lucifer, Sera, and Emily could manifest multiple extra eyes in their "true forms".

But Vaggie was stripped away of everything that physically made her an angel. Lute took away her wings, halo, and even one of her goddamned eyes. Ain't it ironic that she has only one eye when the most powerful angels have been shown with a whole dang lot? Seems to me like it was another cruel way of Lute's to show that Vaggie "has no place in Heaven". And the eyes haunting Vaggie could be a manifestation of her thoughts of it being true.

So to tie this all together(except for the Roo thing), you're right. It could be the guilt over what she did to Hell's denizens. But it could also be an ironic, symbolic reminder that she was an exile of Heaven.

[evilminji]

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter