#thanks for playing (again?) anon!

[benevolenterrancy]

hi!! I think your art is *so cool* o(≧∇≦o)

do you think you could draw more moshang? either post canon or that au you did last time?? (baby mobei has my heart and all I own)

(˵ •̀ ᴗ •́ ˵ ) oh! how about return to childhood—moshang flavor?

don't question this king, shang qinghua, he knows what he's about

[doodleodds]

Still feel like always returning after 2 years? /pos

I'd love to see more of your art if you're still doing it, I love looking at your older art hope you have a great day✨️✨️

Haha yeah, I'm still around! Has it really been two years since I last posted?? Good lord. Here's something summery that I finished up as a thanks for sticking with me :) I hope YOU have a great day! ✨️✨️✨️

bonus image of how many times i had to export to make sure my timing was right lmao

[lunarfuneral]

Kingdon + things you said when you were drunk :))

read on ao3 or below :)

Mel didn’t love Lawrenceville. 

Especially not on a Friday night. The streets swell with people and noise bubbles over from every bar and restaurant along Butler. From the river, the breeze sweeps through, at least helping to cool the late summer air.

But Trinity had asked, and asked, and then pleaded. “But it’s emo night,” she’d whined, paired with her best puppy dog eyes. “We need more people! Samira’s going, Huckleberry … we still have to celebrate when I held a heart in my hands on our first day, remember?” 

That was only two weeks ago, and she felt like Trinity had been playing a game even in the short amount of time that had passed—who could get Mel out to the bars? But she does want to make friends, so she’d agreed, much to Trinity’s delight.

“Yes! Mel’s coming to Belvedere’s! Oh my god, Melvedere's,” she’d cheered, laughter loud in the break room. 

Belvedere’s is packed. She’s only been there a few times before, a music night here and there, karaoke once with some girls from college. Trinity heads straight for the bar, taking everyone’s order and insisting the first round’s on her. Mel holds off on drinks until they’ve already found a good spot in the room with the pool tables and danced to a few songs. Samira lets Trinity twirl her around to Fall Out Boy while Mel heads to the bar and orders one of the only things she didn’t hate the taste of.

She's only the one green tea shot in when she spots him at a table near the end of the bar, head hung low.

He's wearing a white shirt and dark pants. She can't believe he's here. She'd looked for him again at the end of their first shift together to say goodbye, but he was nowhere to be found. Just like the next shift. Then the next. When she asked, all they'd tell her was that he'd be taking an extended leave of absence. Everyone around her was tight-lipped, no matter who—or how many times—she asked.

She guesses it's true what they say: Pittsburgh's a small city, even if it doesn't seem like it. You never know who you'll run into. 

"Oh! Dr. Langdon!" She makes her way through the throng, brushing against the people waiting in line for the bar. There's two empty chairs next to him at the table, each with a beer standing unattended. He's facing away from her, looking down into his half empty glass. 

"Dr. Langdon?" she tries to repeat gently, but he still can't hear her over the DJ and drunken crowd singing along. She gets closer, taps on his shoulder lightly, and can't help the way her stomach flips when she feels his warm skin under his shirt. 

Startled, he turns to her, before breaking into a smile. "Mel!" She goes red at just her name. She likes the way he says it, like he'd been waiting all night to see her. So bright. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks, looking around, like he’s shocked she's in a bar.

Mel tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd worn it down, and she's suddenly very glad she did. She watches him watch her, following her hand until it rests back at her side. The same one she tapped his shoulder with, still tingling. 

"Oh, uh." She doesn't want to tell him other people from work are here. She wants to keep talking to him, just them. "It's emo night." 

"You like emo night," he says disbelievingly and straightens up. The light catches him, and Mel can see his face clearly now. Under the purple lights, he looks pallid, red-eyed and disheveled. His movements are slow, sluggish—she realizes that can't be his first beer. Or second. 

“Are you feeling okay, Dr. Langdon?” Mel frowns. Something is different about him. He looks flushed, and while it is warm in the bar, his hand shakes slightly around his glass, indicating another cause. His fingers tap, tap, tap on the rim, a strange contrast to how steady they’d been, how competently he curled them, setting the Le Fort III fracture. Every few moments, his eyes flit somewhere else, unsteady.

“Yeah, yeah, just out with some—” he shrugs, sloppy, “uh, friends of mine. Some guys I know from undergrad.” He’s leaning heavily against the table.

“Okay,” she says, locking her hands together to squeeze her own fingers. Mel’s never been one to be able to hold something in, not something that’s been bothering her every day for the past two weeks, so she has to ask, especially when he seems so excited to see her now, “Why haven’t you been back to work?” Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why did you say you needed me if you weren’t going to come back? 

He groans and leans forward. The table sways, threatening to spill the beers.

“Mel, I fucked up. I—I hurt my back, right? And it’s not like I’m an addict, I just was trying to manage my pain, you know?” The music is so loud and people keep streaming through the door. She has to step forward, crossing over into Langdon’s space. He looks her up and down as she does with his bloodshot eyes. 

“It was just a few pills. Overprescribe some benzos, take a couple … just to manage my own symptoms. I swear, Mel, you have to believe me.”

Oh, she immediately understands, this is withdrawal. That’s what she sees under the inebriation—the panic setting in, nausea soon to come, tremors and palpitations and headache. He’s in an active medical emergency.

“We need to go to the hospital,” she says automatically. He needs help, now.

“No, no, Mel, I don’t want to detox there—I only stopped a day ago, it’s going to get so much worse, oh my god. I still haven’t told Abby, I haven’t told anyone. I thought getting hammered was a—” he laughs, and Mel doesn’t know why, “a good idea. I’m a fucking doctor and I don’t know what to do.” He’s practically leaning off the table into her by now. She can smell him, nicotine and sweat and beer, but also something she recognizes from her first day, and she wants to bend down and breathe him in deep. “Please,” he says, looking up at her. 

She hasn’t heard him beg before.

There’s never been a time in her life where she didn’t at least try to do the right thing. She shouldn’t listen to him. She should take him to the hospital to get the proper care. She should call his wife, maybe even Dr. Robby. She doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if she doesn’t help. He’s in crisis, spiraling, desperate and scared. 

She’ll take him home.

That’s still close enough to the right thing, she reasons. She’s a doctor, she can help. She’ll monitor his symptoms. Better her than his absent friends, than any of their coworkers or superiors. Better than his wife. 

His friends choose then to return, loudly talking as they come to the table. Mel flinches at all the noise, heat spreading out from her chest, feeling like everything is closing in. Before they leave, she needs a minute. She’s going to take Frank Langdon home and she suddenly feels that green tea shot in her stomach and the past few nights where she thought of him come rushing up and she needs a fucking minute. 

“Hey, Frank, who’s your friend?” one asks, smiling at Mel. 

She doesn’t let Langdon answer. 

“Can you watch him for a minute, please?” 

His friend frowns but acquiesces. Mel rounds the bar and heads to the bathroom. She doesn’t bother telling Trinity she’s leaving—she doesn’t want to explain it and she doesn’t want to lie, not right now. She figures she’ll text them later once she can come up with something to say other than I’m going to take Dr. Langdon home because he’s about to start benzodiazepine withdrawal. 

When Mel comes back from the bathroom, Langdon isn't with his friends, and the rest of his beer is gone.

"Where did Dr. Langdon go?" Mel asks, alarmed to find his seat empty. 

One of his friends—she can't remember his name—shrugs and looks around the room. "He probably went to get some air. Or a cigarette." 

Mel wasn't sure what kind of friends Langdon had, but she knows he needs better ones than these. She doesn't try to find their coworkers, just heads out the door into the crisp night air. There are a few people near the front door smoking, but Langdon isn't one of them.

Her nerves get the best of her and she jogs down the street towards the gas station. She doesn’t see his white shirt among the people walking, not in any direction on the corner. When she goes back the other way, she turns down the block and thankfully finds him there against the building, eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths with a hand to his chest and the other holding him up off the ground where he’d knelt.

He’s in bad shape. She can’t believe they were both at Belvedere’s, what were the odds? She also can’t believe she’s seeing him like this, and that he needs her again, begging her in his weakest moment.

She bends down and says his name in a low, quiet voice. He reaches for her out of nowhere, wrapping her wrist in his big hand.

"Mel, please," he gasps, holding onto her wrist hard. "Don't make me go home, please. I think I’m going to be sick. I came out here—I don’t—I don’t know where to go. I don't want to see her—" he stops himself and groans. "I don't want my kids to see this."

She doesn't want his kids to see him like this, either. She doesn't want anyone to see him like this. She wants to be the only one. He won't let his wife see, won't let his friends—but she's here with him, crouching in front of him on the corner of Butler and Fisk, and he's letting her see.

“Frank,” she assures, “it’s okay. I won’t make you go home.”

He opens his eyes and meets her gaze. He looks incredible, sweating through his shirt and swaying, all gaunt and afraid, on the verge of spilling over onto the sidewalk.

“We can go to my place. I can take care of you there.”

The look he gives her is full of gratitude and swollen blood vessels.  

She orders the Uber and waits with him on the ground while people pass by, zig zagging along the sidewalks drunkenly. He mostly just tries not to be sick on the concrete while she keeps watch, checking for the car. When it comes, she pulls him up bodily, relishing the way he feels against her, grabbing him greedily, delighting in the way his cool skin feels against her warm palm.

Mel sits with him in the backseat and lets him lean into her, head lolling against her chest, while he mumbles and clutches at her side. The however-many beers he had, and god knows what else, must be really hitting him. He’s all loose, curled into her. "I just ... I wanted to see you," he slurs, spitting along her jean jacket as he moves. "Couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted—" 

It's all he gets out before the Uber pulls up to her place. Mel wants so badly to ask what he means—she thought about him too, lots of times, especially at work, wondering where he was, or in her bedroom, late at night—and she goes warm imagining that he did too. 

Langdon can barely keep his eyes open and head up as they stumble to her door. She doesn’t have time to let it sink in that Langdon is in her house. Her living room, then kitchen, then bathroom. That’s three rooms already that she’s going to walk through, remembering that he’d been there, and there, and there. 

He scrambles out of her grasp when she opens the bathroom door. Moonlight streams in through the small window by her sink and illuminates him as he falls to the floor and reaches for the toilet bowl. The pale light catches off his ring when he grips the porcelain tight. Violently, he shakes and pitches forward. 

Mel should leave him be. She wouldn't want anyone seeing her in that state, let alone a coworker, let alone someone she barely knew. He wasn’t in the right state of mind. She should turn around and close the door and check on him once he quiets. 

But he's so frenzied, everything tense, fingers like claws, back arched and head bent, making sounds he can't help, fighting against something he can't control. Slowly, she steps up behind him to place a gentle, cool hand on his hot back, a touch he rises to meet. His back is damp with sweat as she rubs it, soothing circles while she coos, tells him it's okay, it's okay, mapping out his straining muscles as he falls sick over and over.

This is what he’d look like straining, panting, thrusting forward, chasing it, oh—  

"I'm sorry, Mel," he whimpers, "oh, god." It takes him again, and again, and again. She wants to slide down behind him and press herself to his back; he wouldn't be able to throw her off. He'd probably lean back into her, grateful for the comfort, and she'd let him rest there against her chest for as long as he needed. She could gather him up, keep him, right there on her bathroom floor.

Her face flushes and she straightens. Pulling her hand away, already missing the feel of him, she says, "I'll be back," and rushes for her hall closet. 

She grabs a washcloth for him, a cold compress would help, she thinks, but all she can hear is the sound of his retching interspersed with pained moans. The back of her neck is hot. Her jean jacket feels too tight, so she strips down to her t-shirt, light purple, like their first day. 

She stops short of going back into the bathroom, deciding rather to stand with her back up against the wall next to the door. She can hear him so well. She just wants to listen, just for a moment. 

Unable to help herself, she slides her hand down the front of her pants and grinds the heel of her palm against her clit, biting her lip to stay quiet. Hungry, starving—she listens to the way he breathes, so heavily in her silent house, quiet enough she can hear the clink of his wedding ring hitting the bowl. 

Devouring each long, drawn out gag, she grinds down again in a circle, imagining how it would sound if she were underneath him, if maybe he were inside—

She dips the tip of her fingers between her lips, feeling how wet it makes her just to listen to him. 

Shaking, she tries to go deeper, when she hears him say her name. 

“Mel?” he calls with a hoarse voice. He sounds like a child, lost somewhere unfamiliar. “Mel, please come back, I’m sorry, please—I need—” He whines so high it sounds like a cry. 

She wants him so badly. He needs her, he’s begging for her. She takes her hand from her pants, cunt still throbbing, and goes back into the room.

She gets down on the floor with him, letting him know she’s there. He’s leaning his head against his arm, resting. His back rises and falls with his rapid, fearful breaths, and she moves in close on her knees, nearly whining when his back finally meets her chest. Sweat soaks through immediately and she can feel the dampness on her breasts.

“I’m scared, Mel,” Langdon admits, voice muffled by his arm. She has no idea what he’s been doing since his last shift. Apparently, lying to his wife and going on benders, but otherwise she can’t begin to guess. Something tells her, though, that he doesn't have many people in his corner. She’s the one that caught him running scared, trying to hide from the hard part.

“I won’t let anything happen,” she soothes. She watches his pulse jump in his neck and tucks her face against it. She is still so wet and warm between her legs. His breathing picks up, each inhale shorter and shorter, while it builds in him. This is just the beginning. Five or so more days of this lay ahead of him. Mel’s not sure what’s going to happen, but she’d like to be there for it. Her heart races thinking about it, so covetous. “Frank, I’m here.”

When he tenses again, she’s right there. His neck stresses and bows. She follows him when he goes forward again, staying close, and she feels it come up his throat, feels the way his esophagus clenches and releases right against her cheeks, and he spasms and bucks like some wild animal, so Mel slides her hand around to his stomach, trying to ease him. He jumps and twitches at her touch, in a different way than before. He’s still pitched over the toilet, but he doesn’t shy away from her hand, rather moving his hips forward like he’s searching for her touch.

As a doctor, Mel’s seen countless people on the worst day of their lives. She wonders if this is Langdon’s. While he throws up with her writhing in tandem with him on the floor, following his movements, not shying away, showing him I’m here, I’m as close as I can be, I won’t look away, she wonders if his wife would. Had he tried to show her, and she looked away? 

The thought nearly makes her whimper. She might be the only one. 

Langdon calms again, sagging back against her. She still has the washcloth she grabbed from the closet. She doesn’t want to, but she gently peels herself from him, cool rushing in and prickling her chest. She moves him slowly, easing him back against the wall, sitting him up. Quickly, Mel wets the cloth in the sink, squeezing out the excess and folding it nicely.

She wipes his face softly, brushes the hairs sticking to his cheeks out of the way. He’s so out of it, puke on his lips and letting her move him like a rag doll. Mel takes him in, looking at him over her glasses, thinking—he’s the most beautiful he’s ever been, she knows. She wants to kiss him, she wants to devour him fucking whole. She puts the rag down and she picks at his soaked shirt, skitters her fingers down to his pants and doesn’t think as she undoes the button. Then the zipper, loud even under Langdon’s breathing. Mel’s heart pounds in her chest. She’s never done anything like this before, ever. She’s never wanted to. Frank Langdon makes her want to. 

He lets her slide his pants and underwear down to the middle of his thighs, trapping him there.

He’s sick. She’s a doctor. She’s going to take care of him. 

She leans down and takes him in hand and she’s surprised to find him already getting hard, growing in her palm. He’s slumped against the wall, eyes nearly closed, but he’s looking at her, a pinched look on his face while he tries not to get sick again, and he doesn’t stop her.

He’s big, but it’s not like Mel could compare it to anything. She’d thought it would be, though, and her mouth waters knowing she’d been right. It was the way his voice was deep and gentle in the break room, the way he spun around to talk to her, how he’d looked at her when she noticed he’d come back, all confidence, all ease, riding the ER like it was nothing. She’d known. 

In the pale light, she can see how red he is, so swollen. She lowers herself until her chin bumps the tip of him and she makes note of every detail, unwilling to let any of this go. She’s going to remember everything about him. There’s a thick trail of hair leading from under his shirt to surround his cock, dark and full. He has a mole on his left thigh, far up where the hair thins out over his delicate skin. 

She leans down and kisses it and his legs jump a little, just so. Sweat salty on her lips, she opens up and slips his cock into her mouth, closing around his head right away.

For something she’s never done before, she immediately knows she wants to do it again. He twitches then, still moving like molasses, but he thrusts up with a little groan, and Mel sinks down further, thrilled, wishing she could touch herself, too. He fills up her entire mouth, curving with her tongue down her throat, and she gags around him, spit slipping down the length of him. She grips him at the base, getting a better handle on him. 

“Mel,” he moans, alert enough now that he’s fully opened his eyes, still bloodshot, still blue. “What are you—that feels so good,” he pants. She lights up at his voice, curling her toes and flexing her hands. “Please, fuck.” 

He’s said please for her so many times tonight. Langdon may be starting his withdrawal, but Mel’s only starting her addiction, she thinks. She’s never going to stop chasing the way that word sounds in his voice, directed at her, needing her. 

With buzzing ears, cotton-filled, hazy, she starts a rhythm, up and down, slow but sure. She likes the flutter of her throat when she chokes, and so does he, pressing his back into the wall to push closer into her, arching up. His hand messily tangles in her hair, holding her head, wedding ring cool on her scalp, and moves his thumb back and forth sweetly. So grateful, all in the palm of her hand. 

“Baby,” he slurs, the word dripping out like honey.

Mel moans around him, so pleased, so happy to be the one with him, the one he’s calling baby, the one he’s surrendering himself to, limbs pliant and cock hard. He shakes when she does. She swallows around him, trying to put him all in her mouth, because he really seems to like it. 

She slides her legs out underneath her, laying on her stomach in front of him, the cold tile giving her goosebumps across her skin. It’s easier this way to go deeper, press down as far as she can go until she can’t breathe. She can’t take it all just yet, but she tries her best, and she thinks she’ll be able to work up to it. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, torn between his pleasure and being sick, stuck somewhere in between. 

He moves his hand down to cup her neck as she moves quicker, getting messier and messier, spit wetting her knuckles and leaking down her chin. 

“Baby,” he says again, more of a warning. She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t know what it’ll be like, but she doesn’t care, she just wants him. 

Everything pulses, and she feels him come in her mouth, so warm. She keeps her hand on him as she swallows, drinking him down, until he’s whimpering. 

When she looks up and wipes her chin, he’s smiling at her. She likes his smile. She likes everything about him, even if she doesn’t really know anything. Other than how kind he was to her, how he found her across the ER, how quickly he understood her.

“Mel,” he muses, mystified. The moonlight cuts across his face, glimmering like little stars over the sheen of sweat on his cheeks.

This isn’t over, not by a long shot. They’ve barely crossed the startling line. He’s going to be sick again, probably soon. It’s going to get so much worse before it gets better.  

“Can I stay with you? Mel, I can’t go home. I really can’t.”

His voice is so ragged and tired. She can’t get enough. It doesn’t matter why he can’t go home. Nothing matters except he’s here with her, sick all down his shirt, splayed out, all hers. She has never wanted something more in her entire life. She would never say no to him.

She doesn’t know how any of this is going to work. She doesn’t know what will happen in the morning when his wife starts to wonder where he is. Or what she’ll do about Becca for the weekend, or what she’ll tell Trinity. But none of that really matters. Not when Langdon asks her so sweetly, so weakly, on her floor, just looking for some mercy, for her gentle hand, her eager mouth. 

“Yes, as long as you need,” she says, heart breaking open, “I’m here.”

Especially when no one else is.

She’ll be there.

[navree]

Incorrect, the fact that Biden has dropped out and a candidate with history of supporting medicare for all and being more receptive to a ceasefire in the I/P conflict has made me go from "I cannot morally support the Democratic nominee" to "I am voting for the Democratic nominee despite the fact she isn't perfect in every respect." I'm really happy this played out. The Dems for the most part abandoned the old Obama platform and it feels like its possible an actual progressive agenda could come to pass in my lifetime.

Kamala 2024!

If you weren't going to vote Democratic in this election before Biden dropped out you're a dorkass loser who does not care about any of the issues you're yammering about here and also a fundamentally bad person, and I hope you get run over by a bus.

But you got one thing right in all of this gibberish, Kamala 2024.

[moeblob]

Yeah! I haven't read any fics focusing on them but I have seen that they exist! And also there's like a five sentence interaction in a fic I read ages ago that lives rent free in my brain. I think about it all the time when I draw Sixty.

[littencloud9]

Togatomi (Togame x Choji from wbk) with 38 (A kiss while one person is being carried)?? /nf

!!!!! I LOVE TOGATOMI let’s go ‼️🏃

38. a kiss while one party is carried + togatomi

“Kame-chan,” Choji calls, his hands running through Togame’s hair absentmindedly. “I’m hungry.”

Togame looks up. He has Choji on his shoulders, and can only make out the bottom of Choji’s chin and a bit of his hair from this angle. “Yeah? What do you want to eat?”

“Hm…” Choji suddenly leans forward, throwing his balance off, and Togame yelps as he stumbles slightly. “Whatever you want, Kame-chan!”

“Don’t do that,” he huffs, rearranging his hands on Choji’s legs to hold him tighter. “What about that dessert bar? The one with the chocolate cake you like so much.”

Choji’s eyes brighten. If Wanijima or Arima were here, they’d surely call him out for his weak resolve, but Togame can’t help it. He loves seeing Choji happy.

Besides—

“Yay, okay!” Choji giggles, bending over so he can plant a kiss on Togame’s forehead. Togame laughs, tilting his head higher, and the next kiss is placed sweetly on his lips.

—it’s only a small price to pay for such a grand reward.

“Let’s go, then,” Togame says, turning around and heading to their destination, Choji swaying in excitement on his shoulders.

— from this ask game

[therentyoupay]

im completely feral over all your jelsa stories!!!!!! do you ever write established relationship jelsa or have any headcanons about what they would be like together in a serious relationship or marriage????

THANK YOU SO MUCH. 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕🙏 thank you thank you nonny for this super sweet ask and this really lovely question and all of your love and support!! 💕💕💕💕💕

i have... never actually written established!relationship (in any fandom), now that i'm thinking about it? that said, i guess i can come up with a quick list of some headcanons, maybe? 😂 i will have to think about this more, but for now, here's a quick drop:

elsa is an early riser; elsa helps jack create more sustainable sleeping patterns and habit formations 😂

when jack gets Impetuous Urges to Do Something Rash and Impractically Spontaneous, elsa will ground jack, reminding him to think before acting. (he occasionally Still Does It, anyway.) elsa knows what she signed up for, lol.

jack loves to play Harmless(!) Pranks, just to watch elsa’s reaction. (he is no longer allowed to sneak up on her after The Incident).

they also quibble over the definition of "harmless" and the specific logistical implications of that; for a while, jack was banned from further pranking, but then he got more creative at showing elsa that pranks could be wholesome and genuine, in which they could both be in on the joke. however, due to elsa's deeply-rooted Need to Excel and her (Not-so)Secret Competitive AF Streak, her retaliation in escalating the Cleverness Prank War quickly resulted in jack's prompt implementation of the Prank-Free Zones and Time Periods. (no, he was not scared.)

elsa, usually reserved, has learned to let her playful side show more often with jack. she might still pretend to be exasperated by his antics, but sometimes it's part of the game (or habit).

elsa sill struggles with opening up emotionally sometimes, but she progressively feels safe enough to share her innermost thoughts and fears. with time, she confides in him more about her worries. she still never likes the idea that jack sees her Imperfect Parts, but at least she can tolerate the discomfort (and, yes, take comfort in it) now

(jack loves elsa's Imperfect Parts, and jack admits that he is Weirdly Proud and Competitively Honored to be one of the only people, even including anna, who gets to see them. he also is strangely Comforted and Validated that elsa is, in fact, not perfect because for a while there, he was pretty freaked out and intimidated by how fancy she is.)

until he realized that no one ever let her actually be a Weirdo before, and once he realizes the Truth of Elsa Also Being a Secret (albeit perhaps more Subdued) Weirdo, the Universe Aligns.

jack listens to elsa's Big Conversations intently, activating varying levels of Serious Mode.

jack is getting better at recognizing the moments when elsa needs him to play and needs him to listen or Give His Opinion or any combination of those things.

jack learns that it's not always about Saying the Right Thing (which he is not very good at, anyway, or so our Serially Unreliable Narrator thinks), but rather being able to read elsa's mood and anticipate what she might need (even if she is not aware of it herself yet).

elsa is meticulous about planning and preparing for special occasions.

elsa likes traditions! jack likes tradition only because elsa likes them, lol, and hey, okay, these are more fun than he thought?? (who knew fun could be organized??!!?)

so he really wants to show (off to) her by pulling off Incredible Planning Feats in her honor, too (they do not go as smoothly, lol).

jack will often go out of his way to spontaneously create something meaningful, a moment or a gift or a gesture, that reminds elsa that he cares. he is big on words of affirmation, gift giving (but like, souvenirs that he collects on adventures like, "i saw this rock and it reminded me of your cousin olaf, we should put it on the window after we paint his face on it"), and acts of service, as well as physical touch and quality time. HE WANTS LOVE. he wants TO BE LOVED. he wants to prove that he is worthy of being loved.

(and elsa has to get him to Chill Out sometimes, remind him that he doesn't have to Do Things For Her/Anyone in order to be deserving of care; he is more than what he provides for other people.)

(jack gets its, and appreciates it, but also, the Urge to Provide and Protect is still strong, even after so much time, and sometimes Old Habits Die Hard.)

i get the sense that he'd be the type to he wake elsa up in the middle of the night to take her on a surprise adventure, or convince her to Do a Fun Thing without any preparation (/warning).

and she would Be Alarmed at the Lack of Plan (especially if/when jack Did Not Think This Through), but he also took precautions to ward off Concerns by pacifying her with tea, or reassurances that yes, he did call ahead to make sure the restaurant was open before they left the house, of course he did, he would never just leave home without double-checking beforehand (and frantically googles it two minutes later when he thinks she's not looking; she is, naturally, and even occasionally pretends not to be).

elsa approaches conflict with a desire to resolve things Calmly and Logically. she tries to understand jack’s perspective, even when she disagrees, and she’s careful with her words, not wanting to escalate the situation.

however, she can sometimes withdraw emotionally, fearing that she might say something hurtful if she’s too overwhelmed.

jack was initially (and, honestly, still is, even though he understands more now) hurt by her tendency to shut down when she Feels Too Much, and understands (although it's still hard) that elsa needs time to process her feelings and organize her thoughts.

jack also helps elsa actually Feel her Feelings, instead of just trying to intellectualize and analyze them. (she hates it, BUT sees the value. jack lives for these moments in which he realizes that he's actually contributing positively to her life and helping her in some way, rather than just being a burden or a nuisance, as was/is his fear.)

his initial reaction might be to push for a resolution quickly, but he’s also deeply afraid of Creating Distance between them, so after the first few fights, he really makes an effort to find the right balance between Pushing Hard Enough and Not Pushing Too hard, so that he doesn't drive a wedge between them as they work things out.

jack FEELS intensely, and can be so stubborn. he does not always have the most precise vocabulary or tools to describe his thoughts and feelings, or identify the root causes of what is actually going on inside him; sometimes elsa asks a lot of insightful and guiding questions that help jack come to the conclusions himself, and other times, she Puts Into Words the very thing that he had been thinking or feeling, but could not name, and it is very reassuring to have someone who understands him well enough to be able to do that.

after conflicts or arguments, they take time to Decompress and reassure one another (especially if at least one of them, if not both, was Overthinking again).

when they argue (and healthy couples do, remember!), it’s a dance of patience and understanding: elsa might need a moment to Collect Herself, and jack learns to give her that Space while also making it clear that he’s ready to talk whenever she is, and that he is going to try very hard to be Rational and Patient About It.

in the end, they both prioritize their relationship over any disagreement, always finding a way back to each other.

[arttsuka]

I found a playlist on YouTube of some PnF songs in Greek that I hope you enjoy!

Here’s the link

Oh thank you :3

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Nooo why would I block that? I love hearing from you! Tell me all the random things gping on in your brain!

lol because i'm annoying right now. i've posted like 9 times today, which is a lot considering it's not even 4:30 for me yet :')

anyway i'll tell you some things:

i wanna make another post about my aftg oc, talking about fay's past a little more!

i wanna make more oc profile card thingies (about characters i haven't shown you guys yet!)(but i can't decide which ones lol)

i've been trying to find a Header Image for a potential maid neil master post, but have had no luck so far :(

i have of course been looking at laptops online and driving myself insane in the process! so i'm gonna Stop and just pretend clarisse is gonna live forever

i wanna watch some anime!!! i keep seeing little clips on instagram and i'm like AHHH goddd i need to watch thattttttt

i wanna re-read green creek SO bad, the books are staring at me right now

vampdrew andrew is gonna be a bitch to me next time i work on it so i am AVOIDING IT (i feel like i suck at writing characters kissing and that's what's going on in that au so! that's evil. why did i do that?? lol)

also i'm kind of snacky but there are no snacks (there are plenty of snacks but nothing i want :()

[waspgrave]

PLEASE don't shut up about your OCs I followed u in the first place because I'm so 👀👀👀👀 I wanna hear more about Fableeeee

THANK U ANON 💖💖💖😭😭😭 i used to be so chatty about them, I really wanna get there again. So now I'll start bc I will always talk about my boy!! sorry i this is a lil long teehee whoops

Fable is my very first dnd character (from 2017??) who has been through so many designs and reiterations before he got settled as an npc in my wife's Waterdeep game. I don't get to know any main plot stuff with him in our game until its time to watch it unfold as we play, but I still play around with him behind the scenes for non-plot-related-stuff bc he's my beautiful angel.

Personality-wise, he's got cat energy. A little standoffish and isn't one to go talking to strangers unless he feels its necessary or you like, genuinely need help or something. Has resting bitch face - he's a little intimidating to approach because he always looks so annoyed. Will insult you if he truly dislikes you; his use of vicious mockery can be devastating to one's ego. BUT he's very affectionate and protective with his loved ones. It should be considered an honor and maybe a personal victory tbh to be called his friend.

His class is College of Creation bard. He was an adventurer but after some incidents, he's now an art conservator/illuminator at the Font of Knowledge and Scribe's Guild in Waterdeep. He's the guy people will go to in order to repair priceless artworks or even old tomes for Blackstaff Academy. Knowing Mending makes it easy but sometimes things can't always be repaired with spells, so he'll spend hours and sometimes weeks researching and working on certain projects. He enjoys this change of career. Less likely to get maimed or exploded (but it can happen with certain artifacts)

He's a tiefling (1/4th drow on his bio dad's side lol). He's got an older half brother named Drac, who is close enough in age to him that they're like twins, and a baby sister named Elsbeth (who is 15 yrs younger than him). His mom was a Harper who actually died to a suspicious cult in Baldur's Gate :( One dad is a wizard/griffon knight and the other one (the previously mentioned bio dad) is a sorcerer that works for Waterdeep's newspaper. His grandparents run a forge in the Trades Ward.

Used to be in an adventuring party known as the Fells. They worked for the Blackstaff primarily in Waterdeep. It was fun and cool and exciting and they are apparently heroes in the Southern Ward. Fable prefers to remain low-key and/or just not be acknowledged at all when it comes to that.

Boyfriend, River Belrose, is a detective who works with his other best friend and former adventurer, Oliver Lanngolyn. River and him got involved in some classic caste drama since River is a noble from one of the noble families of Waterdeep who was due to be married off to Lydia Neverember, the Open Lord's daughter. That fell through when River sort of renounced his noble title (as did Lydia) to live a commoner life with Fable.

His eyes always given the impression of burning flames. He's a little self-conscious about them as growing up a tiefling isn't the easiest.

Sometimes he paints his horns with pretty patterns (he also does this for his siblings).

Big fan of food (any) and stealing food (any) from friends and family.

Despite the standoffish personality, Fable is a bit of a boy scout. If there's a granny crossing the road, he's gonna be helping her. If there's a cat in the tree, you know he'll be climbing to get Fluffy to safety.

Was taught his skills as a bard at New Olamn. Can play the lute and is a pretty decent singer. He'd rather gnaw off his arm than perform in front of people ever again.

Worships Oghma and Ilmater. Tosses a few prayers and offerings to Umberlee mostly so a typhoon doesn't hit the city one day.

I don't like any of my old art of him so here's some my wife has drawn:

[rowan-ashtree]

omg please rant about the game I am curious

ANON THIS IS BASICALLY A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL 🥺😭🥰🙏💜

so. i was a teenage exocolonist. ahem.

let's start with the playable character: Sol! you pick your name/pronouns/presentation at the beginning, but you can change any of them at literally any point in the game. none of those things have any effect on who you can date (but also you can go the whole game without expressing any romantic interest, and there are no narrative consequences for not dating).

you spend your childhood on a spaceship, traveling from Earth to a new planet called Vertumna. the ship lands when you turn 10, and the game starts there! the storyline spans Sol's teen years - you start at age 10, and the game ends when you turn 20 (or if you do something to end the game before then).

the game progresses month by month, and you choose an activity to focus on each month. the more work you do, the more your stress builds up, and once it hits 100%, you have to take a month off to relax, which puts your stress back down. activities include: studying different subjects in school, babysitting small children, helping out on the farm, exploring the area, and more :)

with each activity you choose, there's a card battle!!! (you can go easy mode to skip those and focus on the story more, or you can go hard mode to get those cheevos (achievements). i usually just go regular mode, bc i like the card battles but not rly difficult ones.) i could explain the game mechanics more but honestly it's really intuitive and accessible in-game!!

i wanted to explain all that bc i ADORE how open and customizable the game is!!!! but at the same time, there are set parameters (like the stress meter, the ten year time limit, etc), so it's not so open that it's overwhelming. you can minmax or do a little bit of everything, and I've had so much fun deciding like, "this run I'm gonna be really outdoorsy and strong" and then focusing on physical activities the whole game, or getting really smart and studying engineering, or whatever!!!!

visually, the game is INCREDIBLE. there are beautiful backgrounds during interactions, lovely scenery on Vertumna - within the human colony and in different areas outside the walls - STUNNING character design, it's all just 😍😍😍 the art is one of my favorite parts of the game!

and my other favorite part is the other characters and the relationships you can form!! you start with a childhood best friend, and two parents who love you SO much, plus other kids your age and several adults who helped raise you. there's just so much complexity and depth to each person, and it's so engaging and fun!!!

and yk how i said there are 29 different endings? there's an in-game reason for that, and one of the possible endings explains it :)

[emilydorp]

Not the same anon but I have to tell you that GD did it again??

I haven't watched the show yet but from what I've seen, yes!! And GD ALREADY liked a clip of this moment. THIS BISH. WANTS TO CLIMB EVERY ROOFTOP OF SEOUL. AND SCREAM ABOUT HOW MUCH HE LOVES TABI. SO BADLY.

[callizinc]

HEY. we javent talked in like at LEAST 2 uears but i hope you know im thiiiis close to checking out dream bbq because fof your beautiful postings. Keep It Up Boy.

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

You're not "busy", you're just "lazy"

Ah, dear Anonymous, proud citizen of the ever-thriving and ever-growing metropolis of Auda!!!

I see you have arrived today bearing the most astounding revelation—one that must have required unparalleled wisdom, deep contemplation, and no doubt an intense study of my personal affairs.

"You’re not ‘busy,’ you’re just ‘lazy.’”

Fascinating.

Such an insight could only be delivered by one who possesses a mind sharper than Eöl’s finest blade, a perception keener than the keenest eyes of the Eldar.

And yet—allow me to counter your revelation with one of my own.

You see, the esteemed individual who lends their hands and wit to our words—our dear OP, whom Eredin and I hold in the highest regard—happens to be among the most industrious souls I have ever known. I cannot reveal too much, of course (the secrecy must be maintained, lest the shadows of Auda send forth their agents to uncover her many deeds), but suffice it to say: she does a great deal.

A great deal more, I would wager, than you, noble Anonymous, who sits upon your lofty throne of indolence and proclaims judgment upon those who actually move.

Busy, she is. Tirelessly so. She writes, she works, she studies, she creates. To claim her efforts as "laziness" is akin to saying that a Balrog is merely a candle with aspirations. It is absurd.

Oh, dearest Anonymous, most esteemed oracle of my personal affairs, knower of all things, seer of truths—tell me, what grand feats have you accomplished today?

Did you rise at dawn to forge the very pillars of Arda with your bare hands?

Did you compose an epic so moving that the Valar themselves wept upon hearing it?

Have you, perhaps and it is just a thought, even managed to accomplish something as simple as minding your own business?

Or did you simply crawl out of your little hole, crack your knuckles, and think, Ah yes, today I shall bestow my divine wisdom upon the masses and inform someone I do not know that they are lazy?

You have contributed to what, exactly? A single line of uninspired drivel meant to provoke? How noble. How useful. I am sure the history books shall sing of your deeds for generations to come.

So, let me extend to you a most generous piece of advice: the next time you feel the urge to open your mouth (or let your fingers run wild across your keyboard) with nothing but nonsense to offer, consider, perhaps, the revolutionary concept of not doing that.

[giddlygoat]

you have the vibe of someone who is strangely good at obscure instruments

that's a compliment btw

you’ve made my day awww

[moeblob]

Oh that's a dwagon! (they're so cute!)

Siblings that hoot and holler together, stay together. (thank you so much!! I love these silly lil kids)