#now that that shit is over
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
âstrawberry wine
and all the times we used to have. (nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft). pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: language, angst babyyy love, mackie... 5k ish. this is. definitely something. perhaps it should have stayed in the drafts but dani selected it from a group of it's peers yesterday evening.
Itâs been years since you last spent enough time at the vineyard to be considered even a part-time employee. Itâs hard to be there, now, in a way it didnât used to be. Watching it fade away into obscurity and beg someoneâanyoneâto buy the property to land so your family can get out without generational debt. The fields just hold so many memories, an ancestral kind of history; your first job, the place you had your first drink, where you fell both in, and out of love for the first time. Being there now, watching it die a malignant death is just⌠sad. There isnât anything poetic about it.Â
You long for the days of the peak, of never ending days spent behind the counter in the barn selling wealthy people on the aesthetics of a small, family-run vineyard. Of your father hosting tours and your mother tastings, of you, pink nose and shoulders kissed by the sun, picking grapes by hand. Of the days where help still had to be hired.Â
For a while there, it seemed like there was a never ending rotation of teenagers and twenty-somethings willing to do manual labor for minimum wageâthirteen an hourâfrom sunup to sundown. Theyâd even host the occasional tour on busy Saturday evenings, would be compensated in under the table bottles of wine and cash tips. None of them ever stuck around longer than a couple months, found better jobs indoors, closer to school, better pay. Well, nobody except Daniel.Â
Daniel worked at the vineyard for⌠four-ish years, with varying availability depending on seasons and school and racing.Â
Sometimes, when you lose yourself to sentiments and fantasy, you imagine a world where the Vineyard never faced any competition, where it is still thriving and you take over your motherâs job when she retires. Daniel still works there, maybe in the fields where he was always supposed to be, or maybe front of house guiding tours and helping you with tastings. Life is simple and plain and at the end of every night you lock the barn doors and go home together and eat dinner and grocery shop and do your taxes. Daniel strums the guitar on the porch when it rains. Life is easy and fun and you laugh more than you donât.Â
Itâs silly, really. But first loves are always silly.Â
He is one of the many memories that haunt the property, walking the lines of grapevines feeling more like a walk through a fogged out graveyard than anything.Â
Even now, all these years later, you can still see him sat in the swivel chair in the office doorway, throwing grapes at you while you attempt to run the dusty cash register. Itâs a cool July afternoon and heâs got a stupid grin on his face and canât look anywhere but you.Â
Daniel is kind of like those people you know youâre given young so that for the rest of your life you know what real feels like. Theyâre more a lesson than a lover, unfortunately.Â
â
You move through the place like you own it, which, you suppose technically you do, in some will locked away in an accountantâs filing cabinet, this all belongs to you. Right now, though, youâre seventeen and just returning from school, already setting up your homework on the end of the counter, a spattering of greetings from the local customers and the local hands, the people who know that this is more of a natural habitat than anywhere else on the planet will ever be.Â
Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. âItâs seventeen,â he quips.
âItâs a history textbook,â you reply, eyes unmoving from the page.Â
âSeventeen-seventy, cunt.â Thereâs a half-empty bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. He leans over you to grab an orange. âCaptain Hook and such,â he adds, hosting himself up onto the counter with a thud. Youâre sure one day the old wood is going to give out on him and heâll fall straight onto his ass. Part of you hopes youâre around to see it, the other knows that heâll find a way to not only make it your fault, but also tease you about it for a minimum of six months.Â
âFuck off, Danny,â you punctuate, just loud enough for him to hear.Â
âItâs Daniel, now.â
You snort. Finally, you give him your attention. âDanny is too unprofessional for a hot-shot Red Bull junior driver like you?â
âSee,â he pops his thumb harshly through the peel of the orange, the citrus scent wafting out into the humid air. âYou get it.â
You pout. âIâm still going to call you Danny.â
âNo you wonât,â he laughs. God, the smell of orange is overwhelming, the kind that lingers long after the fruit is gone. When Danny goes back to work in a few minutes, tosses the peel and into the trash by the office door, heâll still linger in the room with the smell of citrus.Â
âI will.â
âYou know what,â he hums, biting into a slice. âLet me make you a deal.â
You smile, shake your head. âShouldnât I be the one making you a deal?â
He groans against the fruit, âCan you just?â
When you look up again, lean back in your chair and cross your arms, he has orange juice running down the side of his hand, all sweet and sticky and summery. âFine.â
He smiles goofily, all fucking proud of himself just because you agreed to shut up for thirty seconds. âYou can keep calling me Danny, but only if you let me take you out this weekend.â
âDanny,â you protest. This is far from the first time heâs tried to plant the seed of a date with him. Itâs had toâve been a year, by now. You know heâd drop it if you would just give him an answer, but a year later you still havenât been able to deliver anything definitive.Â
He shrugs. ââDemâs the rules, honey.â
Maybe what you say next is your greatest mistake, or maybe it was what you were always going to say. Maybe you feel like you can say it because he leaves again soon, for longer than ever. You wonât have to live with the consequences of your actions, of your words. Or maybe, just maybe, itâs simply that you think Daniel is far too proper a name for the sticky-handed vineyard tour guide youâve grown particularly fond of. Danny is much more fitting for him, which is most certainly why you say, okay. When are you picking me up?
â
You drive out from your parents house with your dad in his old Ford Bronco. Itâs half rusted out and half chipped blue paint, with worn leather seats and a steering wheel somehow more worn than the rest of it. Seven black tree air fresheners hand from the rearview mirror, new car smell. This relic is well past thatâheâs been driving it out to the property literally forever, and this trip wonât be any exception.Â
You hardly recognize the place, you think as you slam the squeaky door shut with enough force to make sure it really latches.Â
The fields are overgrown with tall grass and shrubs and mustard flowers. The trunks of the grapevines act as headstones for the sprawling field of dry, sunburnt plants. You donât think anyone has been out there with a plow in months, if not years.Â
The barn, the one you grew up in, has been lost with the rest of the place to time. Red paint chips off the wood in massive flakes. The branding that had once run in big wooden letters along the top of the door have all since fallen, leaving a sad outline of your family name in its weathered wake. Two padlocks, one rusted shut, sit on the lock. Every step you take kicks up more dust.Â
Youâre removed from your thoughts, from the hauntings and the sentiment and the memories, by the creaking of the tailgate on your fatherâs truck. Stuffed in the back of the Bronco are your afternoon tasks; a pair of bulk cutters for the padlocks, a new, state of the art keypad lock given to your Dad by a realtor, a post hole digger, and five for-sale signs haphazardly packed any way they would fit.Â
You spend most of the next couple hours digging holes along the road, filling them with the wooden posts of the for-sale signs, looking disapprovingly at the thirty-something in a suit that has been tasked with selling the unsellable property.Â
This is, what⌠the fifth person youâd hired to sell this fucking place. Soon enough, youâre going to be sticking up For Sale by Owner signs with a hand-written phone number in black sharpie along the fences that were supposed to keep animals out. Realtors were never in the budget to begin with.Â
â
Youâre waiting on the old front porch when he pulls up in his beat-up truck, John Denver playing through the open windows, his hand moving in the wind up the entire dusty driveway. You donât know what he can see, that your Mom is watching out the kitchen window with a friendly smile.Â
Youâve got your best sundress on, one that youâd debated wearing for almost thirty-six hours. The first week Danny worked in front of house with you, he spent the entire shift flirting with one of your Dadâs friendâs daughters. He said that sundresses are a crime committed against teenage boys and that when he meets God heâs going to have words with him over pretty girls and their affinity for said sundresses.Â
Youâd laughed then, because you thought it was silly. You remembered it because you thought the new kid was kind of cute, in a you work for my parents and I could never think youâre cute way.Â
âFuck,â is the first word out of his mouth, before the car door is even closed behind him, followed quickly by a check of his watch and âam I late?â
âNo, no,â you smile, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind your ear, standing to your feet on the wooden stairs. âYouâre early, actually. I think,â you chuckle. âIâm just,â you can feel your cheeks flushing. âIâm just excited.â
âYeah,â he moves to you quickly, nervously. In the way only teenage boys on a first date do. âIâm excited too.â
âYou look nice,â you say, stepping down the final couple of steps and meeting his waiting hand. âYour hair. I feel like I only ever see you in a hat.â
âThanks, yeah,â he laughs. Youâve always loved his laugh, even when heâs annoying you and annoying customers and annoying himself. His laugh has always been good. âYou look beautiful. Iâve never seen you, I mean. Not that you donât always lookââ
âDanny,â you interject as he opens the passenger side door.Â
âYeah?â
âThank you.â
âYeah,â he offers a smile and closes the door. Just before it latches shut, though, you hear him finish his sentence. âThank you.â
He takes you to Kingâs Park, to the botanical garden after a stop for ice cream. He tells you that heâs had a crush on you this entire time and you ask him to tell you something you donât already know. Itâs then, in the botanical garden next to the water garden, that he tells you about his quote-en-quote âsilly, kind of, like, backup dream, I guessâ where he has his own vineyard, brews his own wine and spends every day half drunk and wholly happy.Â
He stumbles through the entire telling of it, which is how you know heâs not fucking with you. He never gets nervous when it comes to fucking with you.Â
Perhaps that is where your silly, kind of like, backup dream started. The one where you and Daniel are working at the vineyard together and life is all death and taxes and grocery bills but somehow, in the midst of all the dull normalcy, youâre both happy as happy can be.Â
â
âSomeone is out there looking at the place today,â your father tells you over the phone. You try to talk every day, a habit youâve both picked up in the past couple years, in the time and space since youâve turned thirty.Â
âYouâre kidding,â you say. Youâre sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling spoonfuls of some health-conscious cereal into your mouth (another post-thirtieth habit). âWho?â
âI donât know, kid,â you swear you can hear the frown on his face, the deep smile lines and the frustrated forehead wrinkles from months in the direct southern sun. âProbably some fucking developer.â
âYou think so?â
âYeah, maybe,â he sighs. âIf Iâm right, Iâd bet they break ground on a neighborhood within the year.â
Your sigh matches his. You canât even imagine it, front yards and vinyl flooring and white walls built on a foundation of your childhood memories. Itâs like going back home, to your childhood home that you sold so many years ago, and discovering itâs been bulldozed, wiped clean from the face of the Earth. âThatâs so sad.â
âI know, but, well. You know, honey. Itâs not like we have much choice.â
You nod. You do understand. You understand more than you wish you did. âI know. I know. Still pretty fuckinâ sad, though.â
Thereâs a long silence. The kind of silence that can only be shared by a father and a daughter; a silence that speaks more words than the dictionary can hold. âSheâd understand it,â he finally speaks. âShe wouldnât fucking like it, but she would understand it.â
âYeah. Yeah. I know she would.â
â
âAre you going to kill me?â You giggled, stumbling over your feet. Danny is leading you on the property, one hand over your eyes, the other on your waist, guiding you poorly.Â
âAnd be the first fucking suspect?â He laughs. âI think not.â
âOkay, then where are you taking me?â You beg. It's been going on like this for some half hour, before he even covered your eyes.
He laughs. You laugh. All the two of you do is laugh. âCanât you lighten up?â
âNot when Iâm being led to my death. No, I canât!â
He stops, turns you around a hundred and eighty degrees and takes his hand off your eyes, fingers digging into either of your shoulders. âBabe," he says, and you'd think he was about to tell you he killed someone.
You mimic his seriousness, find humor in it. âBabe.â
âYou trust me.â
âDo I?â You smile. He cocks his head to one side and rolls his big brown eyes. You would commit crimes for his eyes. âI do.â
âOkay, so then fucking trust me.â
âOkay,â you nod, closing your eyes.
âOkay?â
âYes. Okay," you reach blindly for his hand, bring it to your eyes to block the light from them once more. "I trust you. Letâs go.â
After a short, terribly blind walk, Danny finally stops. Youâve been able to hear the river that flows out the back of the property for twenty minutes, but itâs close enough now that you can smell it; the sticks and the rocks and the mud and the water. You can practically feel the splashing of the water bouncing off the boulders.
âOkay. Open,â he instructs, removing his hand from your eye, moving his arms to hug you from behind, arms wrapped over the front of your chest.Â
You open your eyes to find a picnic, carefully set up with a spread of dinner and drinks and dessert, complete with a plaid flannel blanket and candles that smell like citronella masked with lavender and a bouquet of white roses already in a water filled vase. âDanny,â you hum, leaning your head back against his shoulder.Â
He kisses your temple, whispers against your hair, âHappy Anniversary.â
âDanny,â you drag out the letters of his name, of the nickname he only lets the people he loves call him by. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy and special.Â
âHoney,â he mocks you, sways behind you.Â
âThis is too much,â You crane your neck to look at him, and then turn your whole body so youâre flush against his chest, close in a way only you get to be. âYouâre so sweet.â
He laughs and it vibrates in both of your chests. A feeling youâll never tire of. âI mean, this is not too much. Arguably, this is too little.â
âNo,â you back away, out of his grip and take small steps backwards, towards the picnic and the waiting meal, pulling him along with you by interlocked pinkies. âThis is perfect. Youâre perfect.â
âWell,â his grin grows. âI canât argue with that.â
âI love you so much,â you tell him, because you do, because youâre eighteen and everything in this life is so simple and black and white.
âI love you, too, andââ
âOh my gosh,â you cut him off, wide-eyed and giddy. âWine with strawberries?â
He nods. âStrawberry wine, if you will. For the winery with no strawberry fields.â
âThis is better,â you state, with the utmost confidence, without even a sip or a sniff or any idea of what white wine heâd used as a base for his little cocktail.Â
âDefinitely not, but sure.â
âIt is, because you made it for me. That makes it perfect.â
â
Youâre completely removed from the actual buying and selling of the property. It isnât up to you to decline or accept or field offers, thatâs all your dad. The place is still his, at least for a couple more weeks while all the paperwork processes.
It was an anonymous buyer, according to your Dad. Cash offer, over asking price. Heâs not sure how the real estate agent managed it, and honestly? Neither are you. Objectively, that land isnât worth the cost of cleaning it up. Everyone in their right mind knows it. You just come from a particular bloodline where the mind never was quite right when it came to the vineyard.Â
What shocks you most, though, is that the anonymous buyerâsupposedlyâis interested in restoring the place rather than bulldozing it.
âThey asked me about the dirt,â your dad tells you on one of your daily phone calls. âWanted to know about berries.â
âBerries?â
âYeah, strawberries or raspberries or something like that.â
You scoff. What kind of fucking idiot is buying this land? It might just be a herd of manufactured houses after all. âWell, itâs too hot here for raspberries. Everyone knows that.â
âI know, thatâs what I told them. They could probably grow strawberries in July or August.â
âAre they trying to make strawberry wine or something?â And, as if this is some fucked up kind of movie, and not real life, it all comes back to you. Every memory, every moment, all at the thought of fucking strawberries in wine.Â
âGood fucking luck to them, if they are.â Your grandparents entertained the idea of it once, all the fruit wines. Itâs a fucking shit-show, according to legend. Hell to try and make, Heaven to taste. It just wasnât worth it for them. But apparently now itâs worth it to someone.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, bite and bite until youâre worried youâll draw blood, that youâre a single tooth away from popping a hole clear through the skin. Thereâs no way, thereâs genuinely no way, right? âDad?â
âShoot.â
âItâs not.â You almost stop yourself, you almost have some common fucking sense and realize just how vast the world is and how completely unlikely it is thatâ almost. You almost stop yourself. âThe anonymous buyer, it isnât Daniel, is it?â
âDaniel?â He scoffs on the other end. âBetter not be that fucking cunt.â
You smile, the kind of smile that you know you should feel guilty for having. âHeâs not a cunt, Dad.â
âI never fucking liked that kid.â
Youâre rightâyou think. Youâre right, Dad. You didnât like him. âYou loved him.â
âNo, I lost all my respect for him when he left you like he did,â his voice is laced with a calm seriousness. Heâs always been your blind defender.Â
âYeah, Dad,â you pause. Nowâs as good a time as any, you suppose. âIâve been⌠thatâs not exactly how it went down.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
âDaniel didnât leave me, and even if he did, Dad, he wouldnât have done it then.â
â
âWhat the fuck are you talking about, youâre breaking up with me?â His voice cuts through continents. Heâs somewhere in the UK, or maybe Italy, or maybe Asia. You honestly canât keep track anymore, can barely keep track of the days of the week that youâre living much less the ones heâs in.Â
âItâs exactly what I said, Daniel,â you say, try to keep your voice as level headed as possible, to juxtapose the way your mind races, the way your heart rate spikes and your palms sweat and everything in you hurts. âPlease donât make this harder than it needs to be.â
âNo, no. Iâm making this fucking hard,â heâs riled up enough for the both of you. âYou donât just. This isnât how this works, babe. You canât just break up with me.â Heâs raising his voice with you. You can count on one hand and have fingers left over the amount of times Danny has yelled at you, and this is the first time itâs not scary.Â
âI can, and I am,â your voice comes from your throat, choked out over the lull of your entire body begging you to please, please donât do this. âIâm sorry.â
âDonât say youâre sorry!â He yells, the last letter sound cracking with the realization of his actions. âYouâre not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldnât be doing it.â
âOkay, sure. Whatever.â He doesnât make this easy, not that youâd expected it to be easy. Youâd hoped for something cleaner, though. Less mess. âIâm having a great time breaking your heart.â
âJust. Why? Why are you doing this? What happened? What did I do?â
âYou didnât do anything, D,â you sigh. You didnât know that your heart could physically hurt. You thought that was some crap that they made up for movies and songs and poems, some grand metaphor for how sad you get. âI canât be a girlfriend right now. To anyone.â
âThatâs such bullshit.â
You can feel yourself shutting down, closing every part of yourself off, running on pure survival instincts. âI know. Iâm a cunt.â
âYou arenât⌠fuck me. I mean, fuck, dude.â He laughs. Thereâs not a thing about it that sounds happy. âI know you donât want this, I know it. Talk to me, please. Tell me whatâs going on and I can help you and everything is going to be fine, baby. Just. Please.â
âDaniel.â
âWhy are you calling me that?!â
âItâs what you like to be called!â You yell back, feel the burn in your nose and your cheeks and the sting in your chest.Â
Thereâs silence for so long you wonder if heâs hung up, if youâre supposed to. Itâs minutes before he speaks again. âNot by you, itâs not.â
â
Itâs been just past a year since the place got sold, and nobody from your familyânobodyâhas been there since. You moved out of town years before the sale, and your Dad has joined you, wants to be near you in his ever increasing age and always deepening wrinkles. When the arthritis sets in, someone needs to forge my signature for me, he tells you.Â
Itâs not until her birthday that youâre back in Perth, that youâre struck with the sudden spark, with the idea to drive past the vineyard, to see what idiot is trying to plant raspberries in the Australian heat, to see who's living in your shoes and wearing your clothes and sleeping under your bed like a monster.Â
âI donât know that we should do that,â your Dad says. âItâs going to make you sad.â
You shrug in the passenger seat of the old Bronco. âWeâre in the parking lot of a cemetery, so,â you offer a near silent chuckle. âI think weâre a bit past sad.â
âOkay,â he nods. âThereâs something you should know, then.â
âDonât tell me itâs a neighborhood.â
âNo, no. Itâs a vineyard. Strawberries and grapes in the fields.â
âWell, good then,â you nod, glide your hands through the air outside the open window. âWhatâs wrong with it?â
He shrugs, drums his fingers on the beat up steering wheel. âYou remember when you asked me last year if it was Daniel?â
âDad. Donât.â
âWell, I didnât know it then, butââ
âIâm serious. Donât tell me this, please,â youâre a second away from sticking your fingers in your ears and humming a nursery rhyme to keep the unsaid unspoken.Â
âDaniel bought the place, hon.â
âMy Daniel?â You squeak. You havenât felt this young in a while. Or this small.Â
He laughs, turns to face you with a look that begs you not to be so damn daft. âThe only Daniel that means anything to anyone in this family.â
âWhen did you find out?â
âAs soon as they put the sign up. I was still living out here.â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â You have so many questions. You donât think thereâs any you actually want answers to.Â
âWhat good was it going to do? I never thought youâd be back here.â
âWell. Iâm back.â
He nods. âYouâre back.â
Youâre back. You never really left, you donât think. Itâs not something you can do around here. Perth is in your blood the same way wine is, some grand, immovable part of your soul. You suppose Daniel is there too, taking up a plot of land in your soul that can never be sold. He lives in you like summertime and sadness and strawberries. Strawberries. Him and his fucking strawberry white wines.Â
âHeâs got strawberries?â You croak. Tears pull on your voice but you wonât give them the satisfaction. Youâre grown now, itâs time to fucking act like it.Â
âStrawberry wine. First batches just came out last month. I heard itâs pretty good.â
âI bet.â
âYou still wanna go?â
You nod, cold and stunted. âYeah.â
You see the cars before you see the barn, theyâre overflowing out of the parking lot and stopped on the side of the dirt road that leads to the drive. Youâve never seen it so busy. It looks like the pictures your parents used to show you, the ones where the place was fresh and new and shiny. The barn has a fresh coat of red paint, the parking lot is repaved and half full of ATVs with a logo for DR3 Wines printed on either side.Â
Above the door, a matching phrase, in simple white wooden lettersâlike what once wasâhangs, announces the place to passers by.Â
Inside, it smells like wood, like lavender and citronella and alcohol. There are pictures on every wall, carefully framed photos of everyone in the world besides him. The counter is that same old slab of wood, the one that you always hoped he would fall through. On the wall behind is are more 4x6 photos than you can count, all unframed, all messily taken. Heâs in some of those, holding a camera or posing with friends or hugging a grapevine. Thereâs one with you, right in the middle. You and he and your Mom on the back field picking grapes. Itâs taken by your dad, you still remember that morning clear as day.Â
Thereâs another of you; a selfie taken on a point-and-shoot, the two of you with glasses of white wine and strawberries. Next to it is a picture of Kristen Bell and Dax Shephard leaning against the counter, half-drunk glasses in each of their hands.Â
Framed, on the edge of the counter, right beside the register, is a photo of the place when he first started working there, of your Mom and your Dad standing proudly in front of it. You took it. You left it in the office when your Dad decided to lock the doors for good. Our Story, the plaque below it reads, with a QR code to scan.Â
It leads to a linktree, to social media links and tasting menus and a merchandise shop. The last link, though, is stomach curling. Itâs her name, your Momâs. Fighting for her, it reads. When you click it, youâre taken to a website that encourages donations, that spreads awareness and promotes research, that thanks Daniel by name twice in two paragraphs for his consistent and generous donations and support.Â
Before you can make a bee-line for the exit, to tell your Dad that he was right and this was a mistake, youâre met with a red-faced teenage girl asking you if thereâs anything she can help you with. âNo, uh,â you swallow hard. âMy parents were the previous owners, we just stopped in to see the place.â
âOh my gosh, would you like a tour?â
âUmâŚâ you pause, because you donât know if you can handle being here. Seeing the place like this again. âDannyâs not⌠Daniel isnât here, is he?â She shakes her head. You nod. âThen yeah, I guess. Let me just grab my dad?â
â
You get an invite to a VIP tasting at his vineyard two weeks after your visit. Itâs scheduled during the F1 summer break, so you have no doubt heâll be there, and if that wasnât clue enough, his handwriting glaring back at you on the invite is about as obvious as obvious can be.Â
I hear youâre snooping around the old stomping grounds. Iâd love to be there when you do it. Bring your Dad if heâs free. Itâll be a good night, lots of strawberry wineâthe real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.
read part two, everywhere, everything, here!
#anyways.#now that that shit is over#im deleting my blog#byeeeee#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo blurb#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#Daniel ricciardo angst#f1 fanfic#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1#alpha tauri#dr3#danny ric#dan ricciardo#red bull racing#rbr#formula one#formula 1#f1 fandom
944 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Y'all have gotta get more insane about platonic relationships like you are about romantic relationships. We need to get more annoying about them NOW. I need to see more meta and losing our minds over them. Get more annoying NOW. More than that. More than that also.
#fandom#aromantic#personally the ones i go bat shit insane over#reigen and mob#zuko and iroh#kris and susie#shou and serizawa#mob and ritsu#WHY are people so un-insane about platonic. get more annoying about besties or mentor-students or siblings or whatever the fuck NOW!!!!!!!!#oh i forgot#zuko and aang#katara and sokka#katara and toph
34K notes
¡
View notes
Text
đŚžđ§đť
#okay I'm gonna stop#but look at my man#whoever that talked shit about him before. you're not welcome to thirst over him now#yes i make the rules#bucky barnes#sebastian stan#thunderbolts*#marvel#mcu#thunderbolts#buckybarnesedit#sebastianstanedit#sebstanedit#fysebastianstan#sstanedit#stansclan#marveledit#marvelcastedit#mcuedit#mcucastedit#gbbb
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
quick warmup since I dont have time for a full blown art fight attack today! Little cat things :>
#narilamb#cotl#cult of the lamb#cotl narinder#narinder#my art#i forgot the clothes#oh well some people sleep shirtless#had to get over the initial âthey aren't ready for this yetâ cause apparently my brain thinks the comics are an overarching plot now#weird brain shit#i mean they both are and arent#i like continuity but i didnt put any thought into an overarching plot#this def isnt a part of it tho#yet
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
FNAF Phone guy was wild for saying that to Michael..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#michael afton#phone guy#fnaf 1#sister location#fnaf fanart#HOLY SHIT PHONE GUY MENTIONED AGAIN đĽđĽ#NOW WITH A FULL HUMAN DESIGN âď¸#listen I know Iâll never beat his object head form#BUT I wanted to take at least one stab at making him a design!#my thought process I based him off William and Bob the security guard from the movie!#those two basically gives off the general idea I thought phone guy looked like#made sure to give him red all over his design too to match the phone head deal đđž#SO YEAH in retrospect phone guy saying this TO MICHAEL is crazy#you think Michael just sat there like đ#Michael straight up had an endo shoved into him and he was wore like a suit đ#PHONE GUY definitely didnât know but yeesh hit close to home there#I REALLY hope yall like PG design!!#Iâll probably tweak it a lil if I do draw it again#now phone guy phone dude and tape girl all have human designs letâs go!! đŠľđŠľ
7K notes
¡
View notes
Text
[ * Never felt more free in my life ]
#[ * holy SHIT i cooked ]#[ * THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUST ME MESSING AROUND WITH IRIDESCENCE EFFECTS N STUFF ]#[ * AND IT TURNED INTO THIS. ]#[ * âlalala oh wait rainbow brushes are a thing.â then messes with brush settings and draws this ]#[ * I'm so proud of how i drew the scarf ]#[ * btw fun fact I drew this in exactly one hour ]#corv draws#ink sans#ink!sans#inksans#inktale sans#inktale#[ * the power is returning to me. the horrors are over. i can do anything now ]#utmv#utmv ink#ink utmv#utmv fanart#ink sans fanart#undertale au#undertale au fanart#undertaleau#undertale multiverse#ut au#sans au#[ * This is pretty experimental so it's a little messy i think ]
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Birds of a Feather previous / next
#my art#feralnette au#birds of a feather#long tags#sorry I went apeshit in the tags#LETS SAY IT ALL TOGETHER NOW#I - M - A - G - OOOOOOOOO#its fun drawing marinette's back to Alya and having her appear stout and unstoppable and totally logical#and then you see her face and she's like two seconds from completely snapping and is keeping it together by a thread#as a note just because mari feels very certainly abt smth doesnt mean she's right. feelings can be valid and also irrational#in the throes of grief she decided it was better to be alone than to lose someone again so she started pulling away#and lila made pulling away very very very easy to do#shes also vaguely aware she's being unfair in pinning this on alya which is why she started spinning the drain on cockmoth again#legitimately all the shit that's happened to her wouldn't have been so catastrophic if he was never in the picture and she knows it#but the bitterness of her bestie choosing a fantastic liar over her at the worst of times stiiiiiings#alya's personal timing was bad but lila really took advantage of the fact that marinette had been acting off and weird#she basically clocked marinette as being unstable from SOMETHING and made up a lie about her#knowing she wouldn't have the strength to defend herself#between her social life going tachy bc of lila and losing fu in a way that felt like personhood death marinette was really put on the spot#and alya doing her thing of busting in there and assuming her bias is correct was a terrible combo#essentially marinette is highly unstable and alya is just realizing that#busting in and giving her a lecture when she's slightly hysterical and definitely delirious from exhaustion is NOT the way#to show her she's self sabotaging#cuz thats just gonna make her double down on self sabotaging. bc marinette will not accept that she is also a CHIIIIILD
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
YJ98 as shit my friends and I have said pt. 3
Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5
#never got over that time cissie was having a full blown crisis after almost killing a guy#and cassie and kon lost it laughing for a sec before feeling like shit#my art#dc#guys I fucking graduated now I can brainrot DC shit without it being an act of procrastination#dc fanart#dc comics#cissie king jones#cassie sandsmark#kon el#conner kent#arrowette#wonder girl#superboy#yj98#young justice#young just us#young justice 1998#cissiecassie#kind of
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Look what we've become.
[First] Prev <â-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#jiang cheng#Initially I wanted to do a 'Mutiny' quote to follow the 'Luck runs out' quote.#But the musical earworms demanded a different blood to be drawn. And I think it works just as well.#Alright. It's time to confess something. I really struggled with this comic. I didn't want to draw it. Then I didn't want to upload it.#Because I knew I would be here in the tags writing and backspacing for hours trying to articulate my thoughts.#I'm going to talk about death and grief in the tags today so this is your WARNING to look away if you aren't in a headspace for it.#Sometimes in media there are scenes and characters which land on topics so specific to your wounds that it reopens them all over again.#Because here's the truth. When you've known someone like this for nearly your whole life...it doesn't matter how bad the fight is.#You always think 'We'll always have time. One day this dust will settle and we'll rebuild the bridge.'#And then the fucker dies!!! He dies and suddenly there will never ever be time to repair the rift.#Someone you loved died thinking you hated them. And part of you did just a bit. But love and hate aren't mutually exclusive.#He's fucking dead and you are left with so many broken and unfinished pieces between the two of you.#Jiang Cheng loses Wei Wuxian thinking that WWX thought they hated each other.#He's a younger brother who will one day be older than the person he lost.#Who has no one else in the world who understands those feelings of love and hate and grief.#I can't be normal about this character. I don't think he even heals me. Zero catharsis to be gained here.#I just look at his sour grape ass and think 'shit that's a little too close to home.' JC is my discomfort character.#I'm probably going to regret being this vulnerable in the tags in like. An hour. So. sorry if you see this once and never again.#EDIT: Yeah sorry this took 4 hours to muster the courage to post. Surprise update!#EDIT 2: You guys were being too nice to me on my sad comic to point out the spelling error. I have fixed it now B'*)
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
"your new girl is my clone" would've caused deaths in 2014 what the FUCK
#that and 'if she's got blue eyes i will surmise that you'll probably date her'#holy shit#is it over now?#đ: 1989 tv#đ¤: taylor swift#1989 taylor's version#1989 tv#taylor swift#swifties#cee speaks into the void
7K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Nora really said âok so hereâs two guys whoâve never experienced a kind touch their entire lives that are learning how to give and receive kind touch with eachotherâŚoh and the mafiaâs involvedâ and i was so down for it
#i will never get over them#ok iâm gonna go get shit faced now#andreil#all for the game#aftg#andrew minyard#neil josten#tsc#the sunshine court
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.
This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.
You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.
For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.
White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.
Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.
Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.
The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.
There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.
The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"
You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.
Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.
Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.
Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.
If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.
If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.
When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".
#I'm still so young and ignorant#but I wish someone had told ME these things before I had to learn them#And now when shit goes south and everything is over and calm again the same things just roll though my head#Over and over and over#It's like everyone I meet has the same 3 problems and its ruining their lives#I just want to take everyone I meet by the shoulders and shake them#I KNOW why this is happening to you#Do you realize you can be better?#Do you realize you can do it?#Aren't you terrified of wasting your life like this?#*I* want to be happier#*I* used to be so much worse than I am#And I don't have it all figured out#But if we all decide to help ourselves then it'll be that much easier to help each other#Right?#It's so hard to lift dead weight#You need to kick against the waves with me#You need to WANT to float#Do you understand#Ugh it's 6am#This has been your overdramatic midnight ramble#Imma grill me a cheese and go back to bed#Blaurfhgh
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
⸢This story is for just that one reader.⸼
#im in my yoohankim feels nobody talk to me#asked the squad what kind of sky suited these bitched and they were like âduskâ and i was like âfuck yeah i love thatâ#but holy shit orv rewired the circuits in my brain especially these three and their sun moon star motif#i could ramble about them forever but aye I'll shut up now#i will never be getting over this novel#feel free to use the wallpaper for your phone just don't repost it or claim it is yours pls thank#yoohankim#orv#yoo joonghyuk#kim dokja#han sooyoung#doksoo#joongdok#joongsoo#myart#anime art#anime fanart#artists on tumblr#digital art#omniscient reader's viewpoint
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
personal happiness or what the fuck ever
bonus:
#xmen#xmen comics#cherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#professor x#magneto#jeans here too but ssh#snap sketches#i havent posted anything in what feels like forever and i GUESS i have to remind people i do draw sometimes. whatever.#aka in my brain i have at LEAST a five-page doujin where this gets incredibly nsft but i dont have TIME for that these days do i#so for now we get just. these scribbles. ill be able to make something exemplary again someday i swear <- optimistic#i think im going to close my comms off for the rest of december once i get through the batch i have now#which ... doesnt sound hard since the amount i have will probably take me to the end of december anyway đ#i just need everyone to believe me i have better visions for yaoifying issue 309 .... the opportunity is right there...#like wdym the dream sequence is gon end on a panel of erik's eyes as he reinforces the idea charles needs happiness like scott and jean's..#call up your ex. right now charles.#what got me peeved about this issue is i have no idea what color eriks outfit could be vjaeLVKEJARK its like.#is he wearing a lab coat over a suit .... i think thats the intention ... or maybe it is a trench coat....#idk shit for me to figure out if i ever get the time to explore this thing again#LIKE UGH IM SCREAMING i have Such Visions that i dont have time to execute and theyre killing me#maybe ill just write them down idfk <- trying to write fanfiction ends even worse for me than trying to draw#anyways. im gonna drive myself mad good night everyone#i have to go to a christmas party tomorrow night. later tonight. whatever.#BYE
831 notes
¡
View notes
Text
i hate them so much
#holy shit it's late i lost track of time#bonus points to whoever translates the totally not code on the neck chain#anyways they've been on the mind i fear i won't be over this soon#they're so awful for each other i'll take 14 of them right now#also decided to try my hand at a human bill#think he looks neat#billford#bill cipher#stanford pines#ford pines#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#s0up1tart#guys you can reblog this with fun tags don't worry this is a safe space
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Okay can I be a bitter Anders fan for like. Just 2 minutes here lmao
Cause bioware released some game stats for veilguard and apparently 72% of players redeemed Solas which is like. Okay yeah the game kinda pushes you towards that. But when I think of all the shit I used to have to put up with just for enjoying Anders like at all andâŚ
(This is not me being anti-Solas, I do not care if you love or hate him, but I am gonna say what heâs done is like. Objectively worse than literally every other companion so lmao. And thatâs fine! You can still enjoy him! Iâm not saying you canât and itâs important to me that people understand that! Iâm just saying he did in fact do objectively morally worse things in game than Anders did and I donât think thatâs really debatable. And I canât really make my point here without saying that but I do want to make it clear this is not some moral condemnation of Solas enjoyers cause itâs not)
Getting anon hate on the regular, being told âoh youâre allowed to like Anders as long as you regularly talk about how much he sucksâ, people gleefully describing how much fun they have killing him ON your posts about the fact that you like him, the devs making jokes about shitty fates for him when fans asked innocent questions about him, the absolute audacity of his writer to say half the shit she did in interviews (about bisexuality and mental illness, most critically), and then being beaten over the head again in inquisition about how Anders is the worst character to ever exist and thereâs no redemption for terrorists who lie to you one time in the entire game and he deserves death or worse and thatâs it
And now⌠72% of people are down to redeem the guy who lies to you for 2 games straight and who did a lot of questionable things that includes creating the fucking blight and. Like. I guess Iâm glad that Solas fans can live in a world where they arenât constantly harassed and can give their ship like. A pretty damn good ending all things considered. And that the devs love Solas and actually give the option for that happy ending and have characters go to bat for Solas throughout the game and the most annoying thing they have to see are people making scrambled egg memes. I would not wish anyone to have to deal with the shit Anders fans had to put up with back then cause it sucked. It really sucked. And Iâm glad itâs not being repeated with a different character, if nothing else
But like. Man there really is a difference when the writers actually like the character who does the thing, huh
#shut up nerd#anders#Iâm sorry itâs just. really hard to not be bitter tbh#like the shit we as fans went through#just for liking a damn character#tbf I do actually think if the game came out today perceptions would be different#I think people would be more comfortable with revolutionary action now than they were then#but even still#itâs not even about that you know#itâs about people (both fans and at times the actual devs) being mean when they really didnât need to be#and the DA trenches are probably why literally no harassment phases me anymore lmao but#thatâs not a good thing slskd itâs just a useful consequence I guess#so yeah idk#am I jealous that Solas fans get to have a better experience?#yeah I canât deny I feel a bit of that#but Iâm also just. idk tired and sad for what that time was. and also glad that it seems to be over#but also a little bitter that I had to go through it when it didnât need to happen at all#idk just feeling a lot here in this chiliâs tonight lmao#(why do I say that I donât think my country even has chiliâs)#ANYWAY#dragon age#veilguard spoilers
761 notes
¡
View notes