#this was the plan from the beginning but i only did the sketches on the same psd

[fourthleafluckart]

SURPRISE: they all go together!!! 🩸☀️🗡️

that's all the Silver Under Nightfall art from me for now. I love these 3, and can't wait to sink my teeth into the sequel this month

(special thanks to @malicedafirenze for posting the character descriptions and making my life twelve times easier 💛)

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-six

679 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five

Steve studies Eddie’s sketches with a frown. They’re thumbnails of people in different positions, and Steve can’t help but compare them to his own. Perhaps he simply has to come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be a good artist. He thought he was improving, given all the time and effort he’s putting into the portraits, especially Eddie’s, but no. He still sucks.

The point of the assignment wasn’t to make the drawings good - only to provide a quick recap on anatomy. Still, though, Eddie’s are good. And Steve’s… Well, at least Steve isn’t going to get a poor grade (because that’s frowned upon when the student tries their best).

The figures on his paper are unproportionate and vaguely unsettling, like his art tends to be.

“They can’t be that bad, Steve,” Eddie says, naively.

Steve had unthinkingly shielded his paper from the other teen - a habit he’d picked up from the project, and when Steve had asked, Eddie had handed his own over passively because he’s a fucking art prodigy, apparently.

Steve slumps in his seat and places his paper in front of Eddie. He hadn’t even pushed to see it. Not once. Now, he picks it up and studies the sketches for a solid minute, brows furrowed in concentration. 

Steve’s frown deepens considerably. He’s beginning to regret handing it over for judgment. Eventually, though, Eddie sets the paper on the table and looks up to make sure he has Steve’s attention before he issues his verdict. As if Steve’s attention is ever directed elsewhere.

Once assured Steve’s eyes are on him, Eddie picks up his pencil and hovers over the paper with the eraser aimed at it. “May I?” he questions. 

Steve huffs. "Sure. ‘S not like they can get any worse," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Eddie erases things here and there. Steve thinks he's about to begin fixing the drawings, but he simply straightens and slides the paper over to Steve. He leans in close and points to one of the places he had erased. "Okay, so...” 

He continues to suggest ways Steve could make them look more like the references. 

At the end of class, Steve actually feels better footed - ready to finish up his portraits. He's almost done with his own, actually, and he only needs a few more things until he'll be satisfied with Eddie's. 

The bell rings and Steve turns to make plans with Eddie only to find the teen already looking at him expectantly. "Uh, my place?" Steve suggests. It's only fair after Eddie had hosted on Monday. 

Eddie nods in acknowledgement. "Sounds good, Stevie."

Steve clears his throat, trying not to let it show that he’s aware his face has begun to flame with the arrival of the nickname. 

Stevie. 

It's not like it's unprecedented, people have called him Stevie here and there for as long as he can remember.

It feels different coming from Eddie, though. Makes him feel special.

"You wanna follow my car, then?" Steve asks, standing from his seat finally. 

Eddie levels him with a look that's hard to interpret. "Bold of you to assume the entire school doesn't know where your castle is, Mr. Keg King." 

Right, he'd forgotten about the parties. 

Steve scratches his check. "Huh, right. Meet you there?”

Eddie agrees and Steve finally takes his leave. 

Hours later, when dismissal has rolled around, Steve is trying to remember what state he'd left the house in that morning.

He doesn’t go to his locker even though Eddie’s library book - which he’d picked up yesterday - is in his locker and he’d wanted to grab it for tonight. He's trying to avoid Tommy. He knows his friend will just act like nothing ever happened. And to him, nothing did. He's probably forgotten already, honestly. 

Steve doesn't forget - he never does.

He goes straight to his bimmer and unlocks and opens the door, but as he’s about to descend into his seat, a hand claps him on the back and he straightens again. 

So, Tommy's found him anyway. Great.

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[corroded-hellfire]

Ok, ok, I have a question about As You Wish. Will reader's friends who appeared in "just-a-spark" (Peter and Tony if I'm not wrong) appear again? Because I'm a bit curious about their reaction to the news that she is dating Eddie. if they were teasing her when they met him for one second, I can't stop wondering about what they would say after knowing they are actually together.

I love love love this idea! I feel like this is a little bit of redemption for Eddie too lol. Here’s Just a Spark for anyone who may have missed it ☺️

Words: 2.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie had planned a romantic picnic at the park, complete with your favorite sandwiches, a few pudding cups that the boys are sure to notice are missing later, and a bottle of wine. What Eddie hadn’t taken into consideration though, is that the park is the same place where the playground is, that has children running around, screaming, crying, and laughing. It didn’t make much sense to leave two children with Wayne just to be surrounded by dozens of them.

Luckily, there’s a park closer to your college campus that students like to spend time at. No playground, just a lush green field with large, leafy trees dotting the property to provide shade on the sunniest of days. 

It’s mildly crowded there as you and Eddie arrive and pick a spot near a small trickling brook that runs over smooth stones in shades of grays and browns. Your boyfriend shakes out and lays down a yellow checkered blanket and sets the tan wicker basket down smack down in the middle. 

“After you,” Eddie says, sketching an overdramatic bow and gesturing for you to sit. With a soft giggle, you tuck your legs underneath yourself and settle down on the ground. The moment his body is seated next to yours, you’re lunging over and slipping your arms around his neck. How were you supposed to contain your happiness when your handsome and thoughtful boyfriend did all of this just for you? 

Eddie chuckles and lets out a puff of air as he’s knocked back slightly, originally leaning forward with the intention of opening the picnic basket. Before he can open his mouth to ask what this affection was for, you begin pressing kisses all over his face. A peal of laughter rings out of Eddie as your kisses become more fervent, as if you’re trying to make sure you didn’t miss a single inch of the skin on his face. Large, ringed hands rest on your waist and Eddie manages to bring you even closer to him so you’re straddling one of his legs.

When you inevitably need air and pull back, your lips are kiss bruised from all their work and the scruff on Eddie’s jaw. The two of you look into one another’s eyes as you attempt to catch your breath, reveling in your own personal little bubble.

Eddie’s throat tightens as the pressure of tears builds up behind his eyes. Not only did you just show him some of the cutest affection he’s ever received, but you did it in public. There were people all around. People your age. Probably people you recognized from classes or seeing around campus. But you still attacked him with kisses right here in the open. Almost like you’re proud to be out here with him. Eddie has to clear his throat and wipe his nose to cut the emotion off before it becomes too much. 

No one has ever acted this way with him in public before, though. The most his ex-wife ever allowed was a quick peck on the lips outside of the house. And that was on a good day. Honestly, he was lucky if he got to touch her at all—whether in public or in private at home the last few years. 

“Was that too much?”

Eddie’s attention comes back to the present and sees your brow pinched in concern. He can’t shake his head quick enough to reassure you.

“You have no idea how much I loved that, princess.” One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek. The softness of your face nuzzles against the roughness of his palm and the contrasting textures feel like heaven for both of you. 

“Do you want to eat?” Eddie asks.

You strain your neck to try and peer inside the basket. 

“Did you make this?” you ask, trying to contain your teasing smile. It’s no secret that Eddie could burn water. 

“I made the sandwiches, yeah,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you flush against him now. “Believe it or not, I’m capable of spreading condiments and stacking cold cuts between two pieces of bread.”

“A step up from pouring cereal into a bowl. I’m proud,” you joke, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. 

Eddie sighs and shakes his head as he tugs the picnic basket closer to the two of you. You assist him in unpacking everything before getting comfortable between his spread legs. The taste of mayonnaise and turkey fills your mouth as you lean back against your boyfriend’s chest. He chews on his own sandwich as the two of you sit there in a companionable silence. 

A cool breeze blows through the park, shaking the green leaves that are now dark and full again in the springtime. The babbling of the water falling over the stones and rocks in the brook is one of the most calming sounds you’ve ever heard, and it leads you to closing your eyes. The sounds of nature around you, the wind kissing your skin, and the man you love warm and solid behind you have you feeling a sense of peace that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before. It seems like there was always something to worry about in the past. A test, a fight with a friend, some stupid boy, money troubles, family drama, you name it. But this moment is serene. Nothing could be wrong when you have Eddie here with you. 

Both of you stay seated like that after you’ve finished eating your sandwiches and the only reason you move is because Eddie’s stomach rumbles so loudly against your back that you can feel the vibrations from it. A cackle of laughter explodes out of you at the sound and sensation as you sit up. 

“Pudding?” you ask.

“Ooh, sounds good,” Eddie says. 

Pushing yourself onto your knees, you shuffle over to the basket and reach in, fumbling around to find the Snack Packs.

“Do you want the van—oh!”

A neon green frisbee landing right next to you on the picnic blanket startles you, stealing your concentration away from the dessert. There’s a black insignia on top of the frisbee and as you lean in to get a closer look, you realize that it’s your college’s crest. 

“I’m so sorry about that!” A voice calls as it approaches you. A familiar voice, you think to yourself. 

Sitting back on your heels, you twist your body to see who’s coming up behind you. 

Surprise steals your breath as you lock eyes with Tony, your friend from college that you haven’t seen in a little while. But coming up behind him is Peter, who you’re decidedly less eager to see. He’d started out as a good friend but after one date (that you’d only agreed to in your attempts to get over Eddie anyway) that was less than stellar, he hadn’t accepted “no” as an answer for a second one. Luckily, you’ve been able to dodge him for most of this spring semester. 

“Didn’t mean to almost nail you in the head,” Tony says with a sympathetic chuckle as you hand the frisbee back to him. It’s not surprising that he’d thrown the disc so far though, since his biceps are the size of your head. 

“It’s okay,” you reply with a small smile. Your eyes flit over to Peter, and you see him watching Eddie wearily. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. Out of the two men, Eddie isn’t the one who you’d have to sleep with one eye open around. 

When Tony’s gaze shifts to Eddie as well and you see recognition spark in his eyes, the memory of them all meeting one another at the Fourth of July Fireworks comes back to you. Where, if you’re not mistaken, Peter was a bit of an asshole and even Tony made some comments that weren’t the nicest. 

Disregarding whether they got a proper introduction that day or not, you scoot back over towards Eddie and curl up against his side. 

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the older man give your classmates a smug smile as he slips a warm, comforting arm around you. 

“Eddie, this is Tony,” you gesture towards the shorter man who could be The Hulk’s body double. “And this is Peter.” The taller, tanner man nods his head once, his blunt jaw-length hair bobbing with the motion. 

“You two,” Peter says, motioning between you and Eddie, “are together?”

“We are,” Eddie responds, glee dripping in his tone. You can practically hear the thoughts running through your boyfriend’s mind. 

That’s right. She’s with me.

There’s a pregnant pause where no one says a word. Laughter from others in the park and the nearby barking of a dog are all you can hear. 

“Cool,” Tony finally says. His voice cracks at the end of the word, a clear sign of the fake cheerfulness he put into it. 

“Explains why it didn’t work out between us,” Peter says softly, as if part of him didn’t want you to hear him. 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you feel Eddie’s arm tense around you. The eyes of all three men land on you: Tony’s curious, Peter’s worried, and Eddie’s wondering if you want him to say something for you. But you’ve got this. 

“No,” you say slowly, dragging the word out. “That would have everything to do with your shitty personality and the fact that you used a gift card to TGI Fridays on our first date. And you stiffed the waitress, so I left her the tip. And you’re a trust fund baby!”

Peter scoffs, his brown face turning red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He looks away from you and digs the toe of his Reebok sneaker into the grass. 

Tony presses his lips together so tightly that they almost disappear while Eddie buries his face in your neck to hide his laughter. The shake of his shoulders gives him away, though. 

“Whatever,” Peter mumbles. “Have fun with your old man.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” you call out as he begins to turn away, “I do!”

Tony suppresses a chuckle at your words while you can feel Eddie smirk against the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“Well, uh,” Tony says, clearly unsure of how to follow your little outburst. “Guess it’s not Peter’s week. He was badgering Cailee for a date and on Thursday she kneed him in the balls.”

Both you and Eddie burst out in laughter at that, the mental image of the gorgeous strawberry blonde being especially amusing to you since you know the girl. 

“Oh, I wish someone got that on video tape,” you say. 

Tony chuckles and nods his head in agreement. “Well, I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t follow him. But it was nice to see you. And, uh, nice to meet you, officially I guess, Eddie.” Your classmate steps forward and offers his hand to your boyfriend.

Eddie leans forward and grasps Tony’s hand, shaking it and nodding his head in agreement. 

“You too.”

Neon green frisbee gripped in one hand, Tony gives you a small wave with the other before he turns in the other direction and jogs after Peter.

Once he’s gone, you sigh and slump against Eddie’s solid body next to you. 

“You know,” Eddie muses as he slings his arm over your shoulders, “when I saw you with those guys on the Fourth of July, I was insanely jealous.”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I saw you with these young guys, hanging out, having fun. Made me feel even older. I started feeling sorry for myself. But look at me now. Got the girl of my dreams and that shithead got kneed in the balls the other day.”

An airy giggle bursts out of you at the reminder.

“And by the prettiest girl at our school,” you add.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. He doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s you.”

“Eddie,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “you’ve never even seen Cailee.”

“I don’t have to.” He makes it sound final, simple as that. No room for arguing. “Tony doesn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“No,” you agree. “Just a dumb college boy sometimes.”

“How lucky am I that dumb college boys aren’t your type?” Eddie asks, tilting his head and giving you a shit-eating grin. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you reach up and lightly trace your fingers along his stubbled jaw. “Nope. I’m definitely into sexy dads with tattoos and curly hair that I can really grab onto.”

“Never been so happy to not be younger,” Eddie mumbles, making you laugh. The sound lights up his face and he flops down on his back, tugging you down on top of him. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You lean down and press a quick kiss to his nose. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to say more, Eddie’s stomach growls again, making you giggle. “Pudding cup coming right up.”

Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows and watches as you climb off of him and crawl over to the picnic basket to grab him a snack, an adoring smile glued on his face.

“God, you’re perfect.”

[vixstarria]

Another gift

This is a continuation of my headcanon of Astarion’s romance with bard Tav. I can’t remember the actual chronology of cutscenes, but let’s assume this takes place after you’ve started a sexual relationship with Astarion and are beginning to grow closer. I was going to take it in a different direction initially, but these things have a mind of their own once they get going. 

If you like it, check out my first fic. I do plan on writing more! 

P.S. I may have taken some liberties with the game background story and DnD lore and magic system here – if it doesn’t really match up or make sense – sorry! Also I’m still only on Act 2. 

Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav  

Comfort, fluff, budding love, humour, angst, banter, no spoilers, non-explicit 

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

 

Astarion was standing outside his tent with his back to the camp, staring into a silver mirror. The man had either lost his vampiric condition, lost his mind, or was simply brooding.  

“Looking at something?” he asked absent-mindedly, as you approached. 

Brooding. Definitely brooding.  

“Looking for something.” 

“Oh?” He turned towards you. “Just my company, or is there something else I can offer you?” 

“I'm the one making an offering, actually. I thought I’d bring you a little snack” 

Astarion grinned and beckoned you inside his tent.  

Inside, aside from his bedroll, was a trunk with a large mirror opposite, a lit lantern and a scattering of weapons, equipment and books. You assumed your usual position, cross-legged on the bedroll, and offered him your wrist. This didn’t take long. Just a little pick me up.  

He finished, planting a light kiss on your wrist, reached for his amulet and whispered an incantation to heal the wound. He kept hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

“Do you have any idea how much I appreciate that you don’t sexualise this?”  

“I haven’t thought about it... Really?” 

“Well imagine that any time you went to, say, take a bite of a turkey leg, there was someone staring, groping themselves and wagging their tongue at you. When you’re just trying to perform basic functions to stay alive.” 

“Sweetheart, that’s an average evening at the pub for me, when I perform. With or without me biting on anything. ...But I see what you mean”. You contemplated what he just said in a brief silence. “I can't believe you just compared me to a turkey leg.” 

“You’re more of a ripe, juicy peach” he said. You found yourself oddly pleased to be compared to fruit rather than poultry. 

You glanced at the large mirror standing on the floor of the tent.  

“You own an awful lot of mirrors for a vampire. Why do you even keep this here?” 

“That? Oh, it reflects light... makes the tent appear more spacious... prevents anyone from sneaking up on me. ...Unless they’re another vampire.” Astarion said contemplatively. “And I figured, I woke up once with a tadpole in my brain that let me walk in the sun again – who's to say I won’t catch another parasite tomorrow that might cure my vampirism entirely?” 

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?” 

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I’ve lost. I wouldn’t even recognise myself anymore. It’s been two hundred years.” 

“But...” you fumbled, trying to wrap your mind around that. “You could have found a street artist to sketch you since then.” 

“In the middle of the night?” 

“Or commissioned a portraitist, those artistic types would accommodate you any time of day or night” 

“Commissioned a - …I’m sorry, at what point did I give you the impression that Cazador paid us an allowance..?” Astarion was growing agitated. “And before you say I could have stolen – remember, everything I had, anything I acquired by any means, the clothes on my back, my body, my will – it all belonged to the master.” He paused, regaining control of his demeanour. “There was no point in having any possessions, it would all be the bastard’s in the end. I didn’t want to give him any more than I absolutely had to.” 

You kicked yourself in the ass mentally.  

“Well how’s this... We get to Baldur’s Gale. We exterminate Cazador and take over his palace. Then we rip out whatever he’s got as décor, commission all the best artists, and hang paintings of you on every wall. There will be nothing but portraits of Astarion everywhere.” Astarion’s eyes softened as he watched you gesticulating and getting carried away by your own imagination. “Astarion in shining armour. Astarion on a horse. Astarion on silk bedsheets, half-covered in rose petals. Pirate Astarion. Astarion stroking a cat. Historic events, but every single person depicted is Astarion. Oh! And in the main banquet hall, there will be an enormous mural of you, fully naked, lounging on a divan and being fed grapes by a cadre of nymphs.” 

“With a fig leaf covering my unmentionables?” 

“A comically large fig leaf. Or better yet, no fig leaf, just your full unmentionable glory looming over the dining table” You paused, as if sobering up after being lost in your grand vision, and added in a more serious tone: “We can commission busts and statues, too. Get a mold of your face for a hyper-realistic one.” 

“We” he whispered, as if to himself, with a scornful chuckle.  

“Oh? Do you have someone else in Baldur’s Gate you’d rather spend time with?” You realised how callous that might have come across as soon as the words were out, and cringed inwardly. 

“...No, I don’t” he said absently. 

“Elves live long lives... Do you still have real family there? Friends from... before? ...A spouse? Children?” You'd wondered about this before, and figured you may as well lie in the hole you’d dug for yourself.  

“Gods, no!” Astarion blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t even considered a full adult by elven society then. No, mercifully I didn’t leave any little Astarions behind. All my friends from my youth are either dead or have blissfully forgotten me. And I don’t even know where my family is.” 

You gave him a sympathetic and questioning look, waiting for him to go on. He sighed and continued. 

“As you might expect, Cazador placed a restriction on me, preventing me from telling anyone about my affliction. I couldn’t approach my old acquaintances and go ‘Surprise! I’m actually alive! ...Sort of. I’m just someone’s vampire spawn slave now!’. No. I was to turn around and walk the other way if I ever came upon anyone who might recognise me. I was supposed to be devoted only to my new ‘family’.” he scowled. “I feared that Cazador would use anyone he thought might be important to me against me - for fun, or to teach me a ‘lesson’. And he would have, too: the mental torture he unleashed on his spawn was far worse than physical.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I couldn’t go and see my family, but as soon as I had my wits about me, I managed to arrange for one of the mercenary guilds to quickly escort my relatives out of the city. They were to be told that I made some powerful enemies who had me murdered, and that these enemies would come for them next. That they had to leave, change their names, and never return. I don’t know where they went. I can’t know, if I want them to be safe.” He looked away. “I can’t imagine how much they hated and cursed me. I ruined their lives.” he whispered. 

“You saved them!” you objected, taking his hand. He shrugged but squeezed your hand back. 

“I suppose I might have. Cazador would’ve left their heads on spikes in my crypt by now, otherwise.” He met your eyes again. “So yes, if anyone is going to be helping me decorate a palace, it’s you.” he added with a false cheer, clearly finished with the topic of Cazador.  

You thought he might want to be alone then and were about to leave, but he gently pulled you towards himself. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a trunk. You settled between his legs, your back against his chest, his lips right at your ear, one arm across your shoulders and chest, the other playing with your hair. The large mirror was on the ground right in front of you. He studied your reflection over your shoulder. You appeared to be lounging suspended at an odd angle.  

“How does it even work, anyway... It’s not just your body that disappears, it’s your clothing, too”. You grabbed a hat from the top of the trunk, holding it by its crown, and held it over Astarion’s head, moving it in circles against his hair. “Now you see it...” You let go and watched it disappear in the reflection. “Now you don’t.” 

“I’m actually not sure, darling. Maybe it needs to be supported solely by me. Or it’s got to do with movement” He threw the hat back onto the trunk, where it reappeared in the reflection. 

“Say...” threw your head back to look up into his eyes “Do you think my reflection would disappear... if a part of you was inside?” you bit your lip and grinned mischievously.  

“I don’t think so, but I love how that dirty mind of yours works” he purred in your ear. “Let’s check and find out” His hand slid towards the clasp of your pants, but you swatted it away. 

“Later.” Suddenly you were on a mission. “I have an idea.” 

The rest of your group were gathered around the fire as you made a dash for your tent and grabbed your kit of stage paints and powders.

“Chk, are you doing each other’s makeup in there?” came a scoff from Lae’zel, as you rushed past. 

“Don’t be jealous, Lae. We’ll have a girls night and braid each other’s hair tomorrow” you retorted, making Shadowheart choke on her drink.  

Back in Astarion’s tent, you reached for one of your loose facial powders. 

“You really don’t need to do anything, I’m used to it and nothing will work anyway” protested a confused and weary Astarion. 

“Astarion!” you said gravely, “This isn’t for you. This is for science”, and you blew the powder hard into his face. Sure enough, an outline of his features appeared briefly in the mirror, as the powder flew all around him. “It worked!” 

“Fan-tastic! Too bad you had to blind me to achieve that split second of a silhouette!” he coughed and rubbed at his eyes. 

“It should work with water, too, if you want me to pour some over your head. You need to wash all that powder off anyway, you look ridiculous.”  

He glared at you through the still flying powder particles and pointed a finger at your face.  

“No.” 

“Actually, hang on, I have a better idea.” You heard him groan into his hands behind you, as you ran back to your tent, to return with an amulet.  

“So, the good news is, I am really, really bad at this.” 

“If this involves setting me on fire again...” 

“That was an accident. Anyway... No, this lets me create a fog cloud. Or so it should. I can just barely manage some fog tendrils. Now if I just aim them at your face...” You concentrated on the spell. Whisps of fog appeared around Astarion. “Look...” As the fog tendrils twisted in the air, you could just make out a form that they floated around, in the reflection, one unmistakably of a face.  

“Well...” breathed Astarion, transfixed by the reflection, trying to make motions with his head to make the fog recoil. “It’s not much, but it’s more than I’ve seen in centuries” 

“Come on” you grasped his hand. “Let’s go outside, it needs a different light and a slight breeze” 

Astarion snatched his handheld mirror and followed you. He was actually eager.  

Outside, Astarion spun in the whispy fog, gazing at the mirror in disbelief, as you continued to concentrate on the spell. It was actually working. Your conjuration magic was just bad enough to make the thinnest layer of fog, framing his face like a delicate mask and reflecting in the mirror. What would have been considered incredibly precise work by a wizard, was made possible entirely thanks to you borderline failing.  

“That’s better... I’ll channel the fog right, you turn left against it. No, your other left! No, don’t go into the fire, you idiot, it won’t be my fault this time” 

You grabbed Astarion by the hand and tried to guide him away from fire and anything he could trip over – he was paying exactly zero mind to anything around him, as he semi-stumbled in circles, looking in the mirror. Scratch ran around you, barking, excited for a new game, and eventually tripped you both. 

“Another gift...” Astarion smiled at you, as Scratch did his utmost to lick his face.  

Meanwhile, the group watched the two of you from a distance, dumbfounded. Lae'zel broke the silence: 

“Your people have the strangest mating rituals.”  

“Should I... should I tell them I can probably just cast mirror image on him? I’ve only done it on myself, but it should follow the same principle” added Gale. 

“Maybe tomorrow” said Shadowheart. “Just let them enjoy this tonight.” 

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things-Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Two: Daffodils - New Beginnings

Summary: Andrew comes back to pay you, but not before spending some much-needed time at his day job.

Word count: 2439

Author's note: thank you all so much for the positivity the first chapter!!! i cannot wait to keep working on this fic, you guys make it all worth it. i'm really fond of this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy :)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

Andrew did not take two days to come back. He took one day.

He chalked it up to him feeling guilty. What you did for him was a very unnecessary act of kindness. What was he supposed to do? Take his time? Absolutely not.

Admittedly, a small part of it was also that he wanted to see your face again. Not that it mattered, but he wondered what the smile on your face would look like when he told you his mother loved the flowers, and that she immediately put them in her nicest vase and in direct sunlight, wanting to maintain them for as long as possible. He wanted to know more about flower language, something he had done a Google search for when he arrived at home, but he had faith you knew much more than what the internet could tell him. And most importantly, it seemed very one-sided that you had his number and he didn't have yours.

Again, not that it mattered.

It was also an issue of convenience. Andrew tried to plan out his day on the commute to work, and luckily you fit right into his schedule. Your shop was only a few minutes away from where he worked. He could walk over to you during his lunch break, pay you back, and still grab a bite to eat. If he was willing to skip lunch, he could even try to talk to you for a little bit.

Anyway, he was getting sidetracked. He had a lot to do today; he should have much more important things on his mind. This is what he thought about as he pulled into the parking lot. He only had three clients, but he could already tell one of them would be a tall order. Thankfully, that was his first appointment, so he could get that over with. Then, hopefully, he’d repay you, maybe chat, and get back to work.

Right. Work. Love wouldn’t exactly describe his feelings towards his job. Appreciation, definitely. He was grateful that he wasn’t stuck behind an office desk and had a job that could actually let him express his creativity. However, the amount of effort and concentration he had to put into his job on a daily basis was something he dreaded and others (especially his customers) overlooked. He couldn’t truly complain. It was worth it for the end result, and for the happiness on the customer’s face.

Enjoyment probably described his feelings best. Andrew enjoyed being a tattoo artist. A fitting thought to have right as he entered the shop.

He greeted his coworkers with a wave and a polite smile, as always (though seeing his best friend Alex at their shared workplace constituted a high-five instead). Attempting to start working as soon as he could, he scrolled through the photos on his phone and pulled up the sketch of what he'd be inking today: two deer lying down side by side, decomposing. Sure, drawing a decaying animal on someone else’s body wasn’t how most people would choose to start their day. It was an unorthodox choice, but he understood the appeal. It was poetic, in a gruesome way, the concept of never being able to be pulled away from the one you love, not even in death. Decomposing, but still being joyous because at least your partner was still by your side. A lyric without a melody came to him.

After the insects have made their claim, I’d be home with you.

Andrew let out a deep sigh. This would happen to him sometimes; the simple act of anything from sketching a design to reading his favorite book caused couplets to sprout in his head. It gave him this guilt, like he was cheating on his career and songwriting was the other woman, but people are allowed to be multifaceted. Besides, his ability to write songs never did evolve into something substantial. If anything, it was a hobby. Just another creative outlet — and Andrew was always itching to create.

His customer walked in a few minutes afterwards, and he got ready to get to work. He had met her before: a thin, freckled young woman with a wide smile and one small tattoo on her shoulder. They exchanged pleasantries, confirmed that she approved of the design, and made small talk as he printed the stencil. He cleansed his workspace and let his client get as comfortable as possible before he began.

He took his time inking the design, meticulously needling each detail he'd crafted. The shading, the fungi surrounding the deer, the exposed, rotting ribcage. What he was most proud of was the subtle looks on the animals’ faces, purposefully made to be filled with both solemnness of their passing, but overall content. Calmness, even. The lyric he had created before played over and over in his head, despite his multiple attempts to push it away.

By the time he’d finished up, his hand was cramping so hard he was concerned it might fall off, a pain familiar to him but one that he never fully got accustomed to. All that aching for something he wasn't even done with; he’d need to have another session to fully finish the job.

Gloves were removed, payments were accepted, and follow-up sessions were scheduled. He took a photo of his work in progress, with the consent of his client. Other artists did this often, but Andrew wasn't one for so much commemoration of his art. He felt too much of an attachment to this specific work, however, and felt he'd be letting himself down if he didn't get to at least have it in his phone. He waved the client (and his artwork) goodbye. Alex walked by, drinking a coffee that had undoubtedly gone cold. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Andrew what he was doing.

“I’m going on a walk. I have to go back to the florist.”

“Weren't you literally there yesterday for your mum?”

“It's to pay them back. I… technically never paid for the bouquet,” Andrew explained as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, so you stole those flowers? Have fun doing tattoos in prison!”

“I didn't steal them, the woman working there said I could take them as long as I paid her back in two days.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to make sure he had his wallet this time. A perplexed look came across Alex’s face.

“What kind of shady florist are you going to?”

“She's the furthest thing from shady. It was very bright in there, actually. And welcoming.”

“I’m sure it was. Very welcoming, indeed,” Alex commented before taking a sip from his cup.

“What are you insinuating here?”

“That you already fancy this florist woman.”

“You do know it's possible for me to have a platonic conversation with the opposite gender, right?”

“You're too much of a hopeless romantic for me to believe that's what's going on here.”

As usual, Andrew’s best friend could see right through him. He ignored Alex’s theories, becoming more annoyed than impressed.

“And with that, I’m going.”

“Bye. Have fun with your yearning,” Alex joked with a wave.

He said goodbye and stepped outside. To his surprise, he was greeted by a light drizzle, which he didn't mind. It freshened him up, something he didn't know he needed until the cool droplets hit his face. He only hoped it wouldn't worsen, as with his light jacket he would be dreadfully unprepared.

It had been a relatively slow day. Unlike yesterday, no one else forgot their wallet and needed a favor. No one else actually bothered with what you had to say about the messages of the bouquets. And unlike yesterday, no customers caught your eye. For most of your day, you were zoned out, lost in your own world when you didn't have a customer. When you were more aware of your surroundings, you found yourself always checking the doorway, subconsciously waiting for a certain someone’s arrival. Still, you were living most of your day in a daze. You didn't even notice it was pouring outside until Andrew walked in, absolutely drenched. It took you a moment to fully absorb his frazzled state; not only was he soaked, he was out of breath.

“Hello. I didn't expect you to be back so soon,” you admitted. In fact, part of you didn't expect him to return at all.

“I like,” he said, panting after every other word, “to keep my promises.”

“Are you… Did you run here?”

“I started off walking, but then it began to downpour so I tried to hurry up. Weather is a fickle thing, huh?”

“I could lend you my umbrella, if you want. For the walk back.”

“You’ve done enough for me already. I couldn't take your protection from the rain as well. I’ll just constantly try to stay under awnings.”

You chuckled at his comment. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before walking towards you.

“You’ll be happy to know my mum adores the bouquet. She liked the look of it first, but then after I explained your flower language, her face lit up. She put it in a vase and it's now on display on her windowsill.”

“That's great to hear,” you responded as a grin spread across your face. It always brightened your day to hear positive feedback from the people who actually received the arrangements you worked so hard on. It also satisfied you that Andrew was beaming the entire time, fueled by the joy you inspired in his mother.

“She's now expecting flowers for almost every occasion, so I hope you're open on holidays.”

“Oh, we're open year-round. Except for Valentine’s Day, when we close out of fear that boyfriends that need to seem romantic will form a stampede and storm through the place,” you joked.

“Good to know that you value the safety of your employees,” he said, continuing the discussion with a similar sarcastic tone.

“Employees? God no, it's for the safety of the flowers. I can always hire someone else year-round. I only get my lily-of-the-valley shipments the last week of January. Those things are expensive. I can't have a last-minute hoard of men trying to seem thoughtful destroying them.”

“I’ve got a cousin that's a chocolatier and she has a very similar policy.”

“What can I say? I take very serious precautions to protect my art.”

You couldn't keep a serious face for too long; after a pause, you cracked a smile and a small giggle escaped you. Andrew took this as an opportunity to change the subject, because as much as he could've stood there talking to you for the rest of the day, you both had jobs to get back to.

“I’ll stop talking your ear off. I came here for an actual reason. Let me pay you back,” he said.He took out his wallet and counted out a few dollars before placing them on the counter.

“Here. That's what I owe you.” He pulled out another banknote and held it out towards you. “And here's an extra fifty. To thank you for your kindness.”

Your eyebrows raised at his gesture, which you instantly declined, giving this extra money back to him.

“Goodness, um… thank you, but I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. It’s my attempt at repaying you. Think of it as a tip.”

“I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I don't expect anything in return, I’m just happy I could bring a smile to your face. And to your mum’s.”

“Let me do something for you too, then. You deserve to have a smile on your face as well.”

You let out a sigh, but made no effort to counter his proposal. He paused for a moment, premeditating what he was going to say. He spoke again.

“You really helped me out, and I want to be able to do something for you. Let me buy you a coffee someday. Or a tea. Or even a croissant if you’re hungry,” he offered, his tone bordering on pleading.

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you were too nervous to say out loud, but couldn't help but wonder.

Are you asking me out on a date?

You kept quiet. He was just trying to be nice; there was no romantic intent. At least, that's what you told yourself. Your answer was the same as it would be if that was his intention.

“Alright. When and where?”

“There's a cafe about ten minutes from here. Want to meet there on Friday at 9 in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Great. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You both stood there, frozen for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. Andrew broke away first. He took a step back and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye before reaching for the door handle. You waved in return, a small smile breaching your lips. The minute he left, you started to count down the hours until Friday.

There was this principle in psychology that had stuck with Andrew ever since he learned of it: the more you think about something, the more likely you are to notice it in your day-to-day life. He was especially feeling this principle today because ever since he met you, he saw flowers everywhere. It was as if the cosmos had decided that he couldn't forget about you, even if he wanted to.

There were flowers on every table of the restaurant he met his mother at. When he went back to his flat that day, he noticed his landlord placed pots of marigolds on the front step of the building. They even followed him to his place of work; his next client of the day wanted line art of a daffodil on her forearm.

She had told him her reasoning was the meaning of the flower—daffodils mean new beginnings. He wondered if you could corroborate that meaning with what you knew of flower language. If this woman knew how absolutely overrun with flora the past twenty-four hours had been for him. Was she sent by the universe to tell him that what was starting with you was just blossoming? Or was she just a twenty-something that wanted a tattoo she saw on Pinterest? Andrew was okay with either option; he was a grown man, aware that not everything in life was because of fate. He was just excited that he got to start something new with you, no matter how it ended.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

✩ ~ If You Know, You Know ~ ✩

If you’re adrift in your own vivid, imaginary world, you know. If your mind doesn’t follow the typical pathways, you know.

(A kind of animated thing at the end of this)

———————

The sunlight stretched long fingers through my window, spilling warm streaks across the cluttered floor. Paints, pencils, and half-finished sketches surrounded me, a small fortress of creative chaos. I was deep into it—lost in the rhythm of sketching lines that might, just might, lead somewhere—when Danny appeared.

At first, he was just a shadow in the corner of my eye, a faint blur of movement. But then, as if the sunlight solidified him, he stood there, leaning casually against the wall like he’d always been a part of this room.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he teased me, that lopsided grin of his making me smile despite myself.

I waved him off, pretending I was drawing. “What do you think, genius?”

Danny didn’t answer.

Of course, he didn’t.

He never gave me that satisfaction. So instead, he plopped himself on my desk chair and began whistling.

“Do you mind?” I asked, feigning irritation.

He shrugged. “Not really.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to concentrate, but Danny had other plans. He started tapping his fingers on my desk, drumming out some rhythm that had no beginning and no end. When that didn’t get a rise out of me, he started humming—soft at first, then louder, adding lyrics that made absolutely no freaking sense.

“Danny!”

“What? You looked like you needed a break.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?” He grinned wider and reached over to nudge one of my pencils off the desk. It clattered to the floor, joining the others he’d already scattered.

This was the thing about Danny. He didn’t come when I needed him, not really. He came when I thought I didn’t need anyone. He came when I was so buried in my own mind—in every single way possible—that I didn’t notice the sunlight anymore or the way the world felt alive outside these four walls.

If you know, you know. If you’re the kind of person whose head is so full of ideas it feels like it might burst, you know what it’s like to have a Danny. Someone that pulls you out of your own brain and reminds you there’s more to life than the next line, the next stroke, the next brilliant thought.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, setting my pencil down. “You win.”

Danny lit up like I’d handed him a trophy. “Excellent choice.”

He flopped onto the floor beside me against the wall, staring up at the ceiling like he was seeing constellations in the cracks of the plaster.

“So, what are we working on today?” He asked.

“I am working,” I corrected. “You are distracting.”

“Same difference.”

He turned his head to grin at me, and for a slight moment, I forgot all about the mess, the deadlines, the pressure.

It didn’t matter that Danny would probably be gone in a few hours, fading back into wherever he came from. What mattered was that right now, he was here. Pulling me out of myself, turning my messy little room into something brighter, something more alive.

And maybe that was the point of Danny. He wasn’t here to stay. He was here to remind me that sometimes, it’s okay to put the pencil down and just exist.

For a while, we just sat there, watching the sunlight move across the walls, filling the silence with his whistling and my laughter.

Again, if you know, you know.

———————

When my full hyper-fixated ADHD brain kicks in, this happens. Most of the time it’s just Phantom that shows up though, not Danny as Fenton. (I was doubting to post this, but yeah. I did it anyway)

———————

—OC: Hailey.

I’m that kind of a Phan… (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ⋆˙⟡♡

Please, tell me I’m not the only one for Danny’s sake…

[wolfish-trickster]

Choso headcanons

(I'm sorry i just love this gif so much 😩)

General

He likes to listen to indie bands

There's just something about having a band "all to himself" and being the sole fan where ever he goes

But after a while starts to feel a little lonely not having any fellow fans for friends

Doesn't really see the point in people taking care of plants in their home, especially those that only bloom once and then they die

Isn't a dog or a cat person, he likes both

Would want to learn at least the basics of every skill he can find

His favourite day of the week is friday

Stays up super late even thoigh he promises himself to fix his sleep schedual

Spoiler: he never does

Keeps fit and builts muscle to protect his family

If he meets people who are pretty agressive about their opinions and unable to listen to a different point of view he just up and leaves, doesn't want to waste the energy

Doesn't look like it but he's quite artistic, he especially enjoys making his nose mark into different shapes and ornaments to make himself look cool

His favourite part of working out is laying down and letting his body cool

Learned how to cook so he could take care of his brothers

Friendship

At the begining he would be just observing you

Not even trying to befriend you or your friends, nah

Just quietly watching from afar

His brothers would call him creepy for that

But he just wants to be sure you'll be worth the try

Eventually he's betrayed by Yuji who straight up tells you he has been looking at you when you do your thing

He tries to explain that he isn't shy or anything, but yeah, he was pretty closed off from you after you guys started talking

But since he spoke less he heard more and learned all your little quirks

Where others would buy you generic things for your birthday like a book or a mug he would buy you three new headphones becuase he remembered how you complained to him how often they break for you

Or he would give you something you genuenly need in your life and what would be useful

Also he would want to show you his creative side

Sketch you, write poems and haikus for you

He even tried to crochet you a flower but that failed quickly

He made you an origami instead 🥹

As he started to have feelings for you he needed advice from his brothers on what to do

They all just told him to ask you out

He didn't like that idea

What he did instead was collect his favourite hard rock and metal songs about love and give you that playlist on a CD on your birthday

He hoped you would get the hint

Your oblivious ass didn't 😭

He literally had to spell it out for you the next time you guys met

You gladly accepted his feelings (who wouldn't)

He asked you out on a date the very next day

Homeboy had no idea what to do on the first date tho...

So he improvised and went to ask the almighty google

Relationship

He made a list on his phone consisting of advices he took from google and rom coms: first he had to take you see a movie, then go to a theme park, then restaurant and then either take you home or to a hotel

Not his ideal plans for the first date but it's how humans do it apparently

Long story short, it was a catastrophy

As he went to your house to pick you up it started to rain real bad

You guys decided to wait it out in your home

Rain turned to storm

Choso then admited he had a plan written on the phone Yuji gave him

You told him ypu guys cane have home date instead

You and him watched a movie

You guys spent a long time deciding what to cook together but eventually agreed on pasta with some exotic sauce

You had lots of fun

You guys ended the date curled up under your sheet cuddling the night away as the storm raged on outside

Choso found out he loves home dates

He only ever does that from then on

One night him and you decided to take quizes to learn more about eachother

His love language is physical touch

Which makes sense since from his first night of cuddling he has had his hand on any part of your body anytime you guys met

It's like his hand and your body were two magnets

He loves hugging you from behind, shows how much smaller you are than him

Sometimes he likes to lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat (is what he would tell you but really he just likes to listen to your blood moving in extreme speeds through your body, but he wants to be romantic for you)

Not the one for PDA, will jold your hand at max when outside but inside the house he goes all out

All cuddling positions, all surfaces, all times of the day

Your first kiss happened a week after you had the furst date

He honestly had no idea what kissing was

You introduced him and gave him few lectures 😉

It's safe to say the student surpassed the master

His lips are surprisingly soft and warm

The first time you kissed him he was a little stunned and his nose mark swerved a little

But then he got addicted

Giving you kisses all over your face

He likes the neck the most

Especially the parts where he can feel the blood in your veins

And when he found out tongues can get involved?

He almost didn't let you breathe

The feeling of your soft and wet muscle against his was heavenly to him

At first a little weird but he quickly got used to it

Would chuckle everytime your teeth clinked together

You also thought of introducing him to the concept of hickies but he already figured it out on his own

Doesn't like giving them too often tho, to let your veins regenarate properly, otherwise he would be painting your neck purple every day

He had his time when he read a post on social media about a guy literally dying after his girlfriend gave him a hickie and oit of fear and anxiety refused to give you any hickies for a month

After about half a year of dating he decided to introduce you to his brothers

They already knew all about you

Choso doesn't talk often but when he's in the mood he won't shut up

And lately he has been talking mostly about you

All of them were nice to you and all of you got along super well

Choso fell for you even more

One date night you picked a movie that was a little less innocent than all the ones you watched before

Thankfully you didn't have to explain the birds and bees to choso when a particularly heated scene came on

But you needed to explain to him how to get rid of his very first boner in his life 💀

NSFW

Your first time happened a year after your first date

He wanted it to be special since it's both of your first time

He studied

Aka he watched porn

Didn't get hard from watching it tho, only after he started playing out the scenes in his head with you and him in the actors' places

His first ever jirkoff happened because of this

He made a playlist to get both you and him in the mood

Wasn't needed in the end

After the very awkward first round you went into it like rabbits

Remember what i said about Choso and cuddling? Same goes for positions

All positions, all surfaces, all times of the day

Tho he had his favourites

Among his favourite positions were those he could have you in his lap

He loved it when you could drap yourself all over him

He also like the access to the skin he got

His least favourite ones are where he can't see your face

The different facial expressions he gives with different thrust angles are what keeps him going

His favourite places are the bed or the couch

And he doesn't really care about the time of the day as long as both of you are willing and not busy

The first one to propose oral was him

He was curious about how it tasted down there

He didn't find the taste anything spectacular but could see the appeal

He liked the texture on his tongue more

He also found out your juices taste different during different parts of your month cycle

That way he could keep track of your period better than you

Sometimes after he was done eating you out he mentioned how your time of the month is coming so you should be prepared

Made you chuckle every time with how bluntly he says that

You also offered to give him head

Likes it when you gently drag your teeth along his shaft

Like the feeling when you have an itchy spot and you give it a good scratch, that's the same for him and your teeth

Isn't really sure if he prefers to give or recieve yet

But doesn't mind either way

Period sex is a whole different stuff to him

As soon as he found out coming can help period cramps he was all in

At one point he was curious about what would happen if he pulled out the entire inner lining with his cursed technique

Ended your period bleeding that very day

You loved him even more

Does that for you every single month

But he's not gonna lie, he has a little sadist hidden inside of him

Likes to see blood on his dick

But only period one, as soon as it's real blood from harming you he's out

Doesn't really have any other kinks than that but he's open to explore with you

Would quickly find out he has his horny days too

On those days he would ask you all shy if you two could fuck

You never told him no how could you with those eyes

Long story short he got to try a lot of exciting things with you, for which he's grateful

[kirus-grotto]

Dance Of Jealousy

Deuce had never felt this way before. Why would Malleus Draconia be dancing with Yuu?

Just a little ficlet of Deuce and F!Yuu at the Masquerade

Bright cyan eyes watched adoringly from across the way as the Ramshackle prefect danced along to the music with their friends. He’d stepped away to grab himself a quick drink with full intention of bringing one to her as well. After all that had happened it was nice to see everyone, especially her, happy.

Shaking his head a bit to clear it, Deuce began to weave his way through the crowds. Masked people shuffled and danced all around him; the music bringing itself to a slow paced melody. Groups began to break apart and pair up with one another. He couldn’t help but to freeze in place as he watched Yuu immediately turn to dance with Malleus Draconia.

It was as if they were magnetized to find each other with how quickly they seemed to go to each other. The way he had an arm wrapped around her to guide her looked as if it belonged there. The soft smiles they gave each other had Deuce holding back a scowl. He couldn’t help but to squeeze the cups he still carried just a bit tighter. Dancing in a group with the others was one thing, but this…

A thought flashed through his mind of him throwing one of them at the back of Malleus’ head. Had he not known better he just might have. Instead he forced himself to turn back toward the tables to set the glasses back down, and to take a moment to gather himself. Looking back toward the pair he could see Malleus brushing a lock of Yuu’s hair back; could see him saying something that caused her to laugh. His heart began to beat faster just watching them.

’That should be me.’

His legs began to move before he could have a second thought. Keeping his eyes on Yuu he swiftly moved between the rest of the groups between him and her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He was sure Riddle would collar him if he knew what Deuce had wanted to do. Especially since it involved wanting to fight Malleus Draconia himself. In front of the entire Masquerade. Only the thought of disappointing his mom had him begin to calm himself at the last second.

“Ah, Spade.” Malleus greeted as Deuce had grabbed onto his arm. “We were just discussing you.”

“I… uh.. You were..?” The blue haired boy looked between the two.

Yuu nodded quickly. “Your timing is perfect actually!”

Deuce blinked in confusion. “But… huh??”

Malleus simply smiled at him, and gracefully passed Yuu over. “You wished to dance with her as well, yes? I won’t take up all of her time.” After a friendly pat on Deuce’s shoulder and a nod to Yuu Malleus disappeared into the crowd.

Left alone with Yuu, who’s smile alone had his anger and jealousy melting away, he sketched a bow and asked her to dance. He felt lucky that though the current song was ending, another slow song let him continue to dance with her. He felt as if he were floating. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her warm, brown eyes. He’d always loved looking into her eyes; how comforting they were. Brown eyes were always his favorite.

“I think I might love you..” the words came out without him meaning to. He’d never felt more flustered in his life than he did right there. “I mean! Er.. wait I–”

“I think I might love you too.” Yuu laughed lightly. “And I think Ace owes me 50 thaumarks.”

“Wha–huh??” He felt confusion take over as his face deepened in color. “Ace? Why?”

“He maaayyyy have bet that you wouldn’t confess while we were here,” she said.

“...Wait, how did you know?!”

“You can be pretty obvious about things sometimes.” She laughed again. “But Epel also told me that you told him your plan.”

His head whipped over to where he noticed Epel earlier. The other boy having his innocent smile on his face. Rook, Riddle, and even Malleus on either side of him wearing knowing grins of their own. “...Did… did everyone know that?!”

“I mean… I’ve been trying to drop my own hints to you for a while now. You’re just a bit oblivious.”

Deuce groaned in defeat. “I can’t believe I never caught on..”

Yuu rolled her eyes playfully at him before leaning close to place a kiss onto his lips. “How about we split my winnings and get something in town when we get back?”

His eyes widened for a moment before softening. “I still can’t believe you made a bet on me.” His hands took her face to bring it to his own for another kiss.Feeling her smile against him had him smiling too.

“...Floyd was in on it too.” She added after they pulled away.

“WHAT??”

[sabrondabrainrot]

🌦️Dark Sun and 🔅Servant Sun

I tried my hand at designing Servant Sun and Dark Sun.

I'm getting more caught up on the lore!! Click underneath for art closeups and more Lore rants and AU idea! Plus, I have sketches and a comic WIP I've been working on.

😉

There will be rambly spoilers to where I am in the Lore.

For Dark Sun I was inspired a lot by the thumbnails, they give him red eyes a lot in the thumbnails and I like the smarmy red eyed look of the guy. Tried to capture his 'regal-holier then thou' attitude in his design. He's still Sun though, so I used OG Sun's palette (my first Sun design!) to reflect the fact they have the same beginnings. I don't trust anything he says but I know something has totally happened to his Moon (I'm really banking on the idea he ATE him/ ATE his intelligence chip) so he carries his Moon's bell and he also repurposed the star pattern of Moon to parade it around as like a symbol his Moon is at his heal. I don't know if I like his final look but I think it's because I gave him dramatically darker shading vs the other Suns.

Servant Sun! Here's my take on him. He's been suffering for over 10000+ years under Lord Eclipse abuse. We saw how he was being punished just because Lore Eclipse was bored! I feel really bad for this Sun, it was hard to draw a design for him. I think despite his servant title Lord Eclipse just keeps him around not only to keep himself sane but also a trophy/slave to show off to Moon and the others in the afterlife. I had this like monologue for SSun basically, "The sound of bells long ago stopped ringing for the daycare attendant turned servant but Lord Eclipse still can hear the sound of metallic chimes when the neurotic servant cleans thanks to his fanciful additions." (aka the chime of chains) He's also got an apron that's falling apart and SSun used random old fabric to patch it up (it wasn't random it was his old clothes). I was really inspired by Meagancandraw's design of Servant Sun!

Here's my AU sketches. I'm planning to clean these up and maybe color them? This is basically just the AU idea that I think Sun is going to somehow get reborn but be a being reborn from star power and negative star power? I don't know if it's possible? He becomes a mix of the two in my AU. I know some current spoilers and basically I know he may be immune to negative star energy? He can also hold Star Power uniquely and it 'taste good to him'. I will never let go of the fact he told Moon it taste nice like dried watermelon. His untrained magical outburst was also compared to be as powerful as Golden Freddy's. There's big theory he's going to die or be sacrificed but I have this idea what if he's essentially remade? idk just rambly thoughts. So yeah, he has a cool new look to go with his magical transformation.

BTW he is very sad cause he can't be near his family in this AU my brain cooked up. He's basically radiation incarnate now <3 His eyes are cracked because they're intensely pouring out Star/Negative Star power. Just a constant pull and push of power circulating in him.

this is the comic idea I have currently. I don't have a ton of motivation so any encouragement to finish this comic idea would be super appreciated! I'm not a comic-type artist so this is out of my comfort zone (I've made a few comics but usually they are pretty janky)

ON TO THE RAMBLES - spoilers BEWARE:

NEW MOON MY BOY PLS YOU ARE HIDING STUFF FROM YOUR FAMILY. BOY NO. HE IS GONNA USE RUIN TO BRING BACK SOLAR?

Blood Moon just took Ruin. Also Dark Sun repaired Ruin after Molten took him to die in the dead dimension?? BOY??? Also, Dark Sun did something to Eclipse??? Bro is plotting. I wish I could get a read on Dark Sun but I don't even know how much of the truth he's been sharing thus far. He has no reason to tell anyone the truth and so far he hasn't hurt anyone just stole a bunch of data from Moon and built a bunker to escape total dimension collapse...He's just a big wild card for me.

Then there's New Moon, He's just actually going crazy after meeting Old Moon. Sun can tell something is wrong with his brother!!! I hope he can help him but spoilers tells me otherwise. The family is trying! Earth heard out Eclipse and Eclipse is getting Earth proof that Moon is currently cray-cray. Lunar is kind of hanging near Sun and Earth because the creator is now actively trying to kidnap him. So much spicy drama.

I don't pay attention much to the Freddy side of the plot but he's also dying?? bro??? What about Francine? The missing mom/wife? Poor Francine's suffering, she needs her mom and dad! I like that Puppet is hanging around her grandchild more it is very sweet. Foxy also got his 'bestfriend' Puppet a house/condo. hmm-Mmmhmm. Definitely no romantic tensions there. Definitely not.

(side bar, I don't ship Kidscove but I do ship the Foxy and Puppet do they have a ship name? Also no hate to Kidscove I just think Foxy treats Sun like a kid a lot. I like the gooseworld Kidscove. Sun laid eggs, so wholesome.)

Lunar is just waiting for news on his trial and I am in suspense hoo boy...Then the stuff with FC being put in a new body and Frank is not happy about it. I def can tell there's big lead up to the astral bodies making a big move I just wonder what the move will be. I feel like now Lunar and FC are going to end up being more intwined then they might think.

Also I love Dazzle!!! AAAGH! She and Jack are so cute! I loved the ep Sun took Dazzle and Lunar to the store that was so sweet. Can't wait to see more of them! They're such a cute dynamic! I like seeing Lunar put his best foot forward to help Dazzle too.

I can tell Moon is slowly distancing himself from the others but it's like this odd thing where he's no longer obsessed with Solar being back per sei...but he's obsessed over how HE has to be the one to bring Solar back in his way because HE promised and he wants to be better then Old Moon and yeah...he's got a very warped perspective I feel like? But Molten and Ruin BOTH pointed out Moon is being possessed by something so I think he's definitely sick? Or something is keeping him from seeing the error of his way.

Rambles over :)

I do plan to draw Solar and Eclipse and Lord Eclipse next but I'm stuck on what I want to do for Solar's design :P I might make a poll in the future!

[thesandyhooktragedy]

i find adam lanza’s notes and sketches for a screenplay called “Lovebound” really interesting for a number of reasons, but it doesn’t seem like anyone talks about it much

it’s not very hard to notice that a lot of the things mentioned in Lovebound appear in lanza’s own life. it also presents more of an insight into lanza’s fascination with human sexuality, as well as pedophilic relationships

Lovebound, from what i can tell, centers around a ten-year-old boy exploring his sexuality. early in lanza’s sketches of the screenplay, he implies that the main theme of the entire screenplay would be the ten-year-old learning that his “relationship” with a pedophile is no different than any other relationship

this part is fascinating to me. not only does it imply the theme stated previously, it also displays that the ten-year-old possibly has a fascination with guns, much like lanza did. it also references familicide.

before attacking Sandy Hook, lanza committed matricide by shooting his mother—a form of familicide. it makes you wonder how much of this screenplay—if ever fully written—would’ve been lanza projecting onto the ten-year-old main character. perhaps he had thoughts of shooting nancy long before his plan for Sandy Hook was ever conceived.

lanza wrote his thoughts on marriage in form of a response to another person on the internet, carnage_complex. lanza closes his response with this:

above, lanza implies that marriage is “restrictively binding”. and, as he says in his response to carnage_complex, he states that he sees marriage as “innately mutually abusive”. lanza’s stance on relationships seems to be that he believes non-committal, casual relationships are the only way that a relationship cannot be abusive. relationships must be “boundless” (get it?)

(i encourage you to read through the entire document, it displays a lot about how adam felt about relationships and human connection in general. he also mentions eric harris and dylan klebold towards the end)

during this sketch of a scene, after discussing familicide, the goths hand the ten-year-old a pistol and tell him to “do what he considers is best”. one possible motive that’s been widely agreed upon for lanza’s attack on Sandy Hook is that he thought he’d be “freeing” his child victims from the burden of life by killing them. perhaps this was heavier foreshadowing of what lanza would later do, as well as a reflection of his thoughts on murder as liberation

lanza’s notes on Lovebound begin to end with an excerpt from an article on Heinz Kohut, a psychoanalyst, and his tutor

this excerpt, i believe, reflects a lot of lanza’s beliefs about pedophilia. lanza seemed to possess the belief that pedophiles in relationships with children deserved as many rights as anybody else. the description of kohut’s relationship with his tutor sounds very romanticized and leads us to believe that it did kohut a great deal of good rather than traumatize him, as pedophilic relationships do to children. lanza argues in his 35-page-essay defending pedophilia that pedophilic relationships would be “beneficial to both parties”.

the last page of the notes on Lovebound end with this:

earlier in the notes, the ten-year-old is sexually assaulted by his father. maybe lanza was referring to more sexual assault being inflicted on the ten-year-old when he said “bad things?”

Lovebound is very interesting to me, and i wish people would talk about it more! it not only offers an insight into how deep lanza’s obsession with pedophilia and human sexuality was, but is also another example of his affinity for screenwriting!

how do you feel about Lovebound?

[yellow-py]

hello! you've probably been asked these before, but i'm here to ask how long it typically takes for you to make animatics, if you have any tips, preferred methods, and what you use? i saw your funger animatic and it looks absolutely gorgeous! i love all the detail that's jam-packed into the art and story telling, so i'm curious about your animatic process.

sorry if this is a lot! no need to answer if you don't want to. i love your stuff and i wish you well!

Hi! I don't mind answering some questions!

First things first, I'm not a professional storyboards artist. I've done a few things for some youtube channels. I wouldn't call myself an expert. This is to say that my method of doing things might not the best for people who actually work in the industry. 

Most of the time I work in Storyboard pro 7. But honestly, any editing software works as long as it can handle pictures and audio. For the disco elysium animatic I only used  clip studio paint and some random editing program called Camtasia. It worked alright but it takes a bit longer to finish stuff since storyboard pro is more streamlined. My go-to method right not is to draw the backgrounds in clip studio and the characters and editing in storyboard pro. That way, I get the best of both worlds. 

The funger animatic took about 2 and a half weeks to make. It usually takes longer, but the song wasn't that long so that saved me a lot of time. But as another example, my disco elysium animatic took +3 months. So it really depends. I did work longer on each frame for that one tho, so idk. On average, it takes me about 2 months. But that number keeps going up since my expectations of myself keep rising. 

Anyhow! I'll be bringing up my fear and hunger animatic as an example of my process. 

My animatics usually start out having the ugliest thumbnails known to man. It does let me experiment with framing and timing, which is absolutely crucial. I do not recommend that people start refining frames without having planned out things beforehand.

After that, I just save every thumbnail and import it to storyboard pro. I just scale it up to the current canvas size. Then I just line up every frame with the audio. It is a little bit tedious but you gotta do what you gotta do. 

After that, I begin to draw the backgrounds in clip studio. I do the same thing as in storyboard pro and just size the thumbnail up. And then I just sketch over that! Technically, I could have drawn the backgrounds in storyboard pro. But their brushes are pretty uggo so I prefer to not do that :)

As dumb as it might sound, it kind of stresses me out when my storyboards aren't "pretty". Which is pretty stupid since storyboards are literally made only to be a guide for what an animation should be. so in actuality, it's alright if they're kinda crusty. But since I never intend to animate my animatics I find it nice to spend more time on each frame. Which is sorta stupid because I'm shooting myself in the foot by working so long on every frame...

Either way, after that, I import the new backgrounds into storyboard pro and begin to draw the characters. Technically I could draw them in clip studio as well. But its faster to draw them in story board pro and it also allows me to do some semi-animated things and work faster. So, after a lot of experimenting, clip studio backgrounds and storyboard pro characters is the way to go for me! 

And just to note. This animatic might have only taken about 2 and a half weeks. Which sounds pretty good. But when it comes to animatics I can become a real workaholic if im inspired enough. So every day after school I would sit non stop working on this from the second I got home to when it was time to sleep. As well as every second of the weekend after I was done with my chores. So that is to say I work pretty fast and persistently, which i know is not healthy or realistic. So take my timing with a grain of salt. 

But that's kinda my process. I just draw backgrounds and draw characters until the thing is done. 

If I had to give any advice, I would say it's important to have fun when making animatics as a hobby. When I make an animatic, it's because I personally want to see that animatic, and if other people like it, that is a plus! If you're excited about an idea, it'll be a lot easier to add fun details and soul into it. 

But yeah that's it. I can't really come up with anything else to say. I hope I gave some good insight!

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

IN THE NAME OF THE FORGOTTEN

Finally! I have finished this little story for our little fishie's newest card, "Floral Promise," and have decided to take part in the Contest in honor of his first kiss as well.

So I would very much appreciate it if you could give some support to help celebrate this precious kiss together!

Now is the time for some #delulus!

What's going on in Rafayel's mind during his "first" kiss?

IN THE NAME OF THE FORGOTTEN

"Every name holds an invisible thread, binding souls together. Just as I, the moment you called my name, was forever held within your grasp.”

**************************************

I had envisioned today to be a mere excursion into nature's embrace, yet from the moment of our departure to our return, I was enveloped in a symphony of joy alongside you, and even delved into the secrets I long concealed.

Hmmm, where to begin? Perhaps from our journey itself.

The instant my gaze met yours as you sparkled at a couple gifting each other flowers along the way, an irresistible urge to replicate their gesture seized me. But flowers are best admired upon arrival, so my resourceful mind concocted a plan – sketching a flower for you. Much did I long for you to recognize the hidden significance it would hold, for the flower I depicted was the very one I yearned for you to behold today (Fortunate indeed that I carry my pen wherever I roam!).

Yet, what did you say in response? You questioned my sincerity? Could you fathom the depths of my contemplation, seeking the perfect means to convey my heartfelt intentions? For to me, gifting mere flowers felt far too commonplace.

Before I could unveil my grand surprise, you surprised me even further. In a moment of tenderness, you clasped my hand, drawing it closer. Your warm fingers holding the pen you took from me traced the contours of mine, gently caressing my skin, sending shivers of delight down my spine. You lowered your head, your silken tresses cascading over your exquisite visage, leaving a few strands to dance playfully in the breeze. Little did you know, I yearned to embrace you then, but sensing your focused concentration, I restrained my impulse. To interrupt would not only earn me a reprimand, but also deprive me of witnessing the masterpiece you were crafting for me. Indeed, such a blunder would have resulted in a loss on both fronts!

When you finally completed your 'opus' and beamed at me, I eagerly awaited the opportunity to praise your creation. But allow me to inquire...

...what exactly did you sketch?

I am no adept at deception, and upon meeting your expectant gaze, I found myself at a loss for words. 

Could the object you had drawn be... a pot? Round with a handle, it bore some resemblance, I suppose. Yet, when I tentatively sought confirmation, you remained evasive, attributing it to your artistic shortcomings.

Who dares to label your artistry as flawed? Not even I!

But your mischievous habit of withholding information has caused me much distress. For the entire drive, I could think of nothing but the mysterious pot you had bestowed upon me.

Arghhhh! You truly know how to torment me, for even now, despite your explanation, its identity remains elusive!

The phrase 'is it a pot?' echoed incessantly within my mind until we reached our destination. I decided to set aside the enigma for the moment and focus on guiding you through the garden's splendor.

The scenery remained as picturesque as I recalled, perhaps even more vibrant, and with your presence, the surroundings exuded an intoxicating charm.

Dreamy lavender, radiant sunshine yellow, pristine white, lush green – all the colors converging within the garden could not rival the crimson glow adorning your radiant cheeks.

So, this is the essence of 'falling for someone in the midst of a scene.'

Witnessing your blissful smile rendered my every effort worthwhile...

As we savored the fragrance of countless blossoms swaying gently in the breeze, my attention was captured by the iridescent aura emanating from the delicate wings of a flitting butterfly. Upon observing the spectrum of colors shimmering amidst its transparent wings as it alighted upon the very flower I desired you to admire, I couldn't contain my fascination and leaned in for a closer look. The moment the magical hues blended seamlessly, I couldn't help but exclaim at the wonders of nature's artistry.

Sight reveals, but it is the heart that truly perceives. And thanks to you, this entire panorama transcended the mundane hues of the past.

Lost in my reverie, I was unaware of my prolonged distraction until I captured your inquisitive gaze.

As our eyes met, did you realize that yours are the convergence point of 300 million colors?

Behold, you claim to envy my ability to perceive a multitude of shades, yet fail to recognize your own power to illuminate those very hues. At least, in my eyes.

If your eyes cannot discern the 300 million colors, allow me to discern them on your behalf and assist you in expressing them. All you need do is gaze upon me.

Engrossed in admiring the flowers and you, I recalled a task I had pending. And while contemplating its execution, a revelation struck me – why not entrust it to you?

An ingenious idea indeed! For you have already christened my paintings, so naming a flower could hardly be a more daunting feat, could it?

Yet, you initially resisted, claiming the responsibility was too grand. Do you comprehend the sheer effort it takes to name every single existence? In that spectrum of 300 million colors, only the one that stirs my soul is bestowed with a name, much like you, a fiery crimson that embodies the nature of the heart within my chest.

Ah, this notion arrived at an opportune moment, for it would not only solidify my sincerity but also hold profound significance.

For a name is an intrinsic part of every being. Each name serves as a unique identifier for an individual. Even identical entities are distinguished by their names. Just as the flower I rescued is, without a name, merely a temporary replica of an extinct bloom. How utterly tragic to be a distinct entity condemned to the fate of a mere substitute.

Therefore, if it be within your power, I implore you to bestow upon it a name, liberating it from isolation, loneliness, and the ostracization it endures for being unable to embrace its true identity.

Much like myself and the bond I forged with you.

For years, I have not heard you utter my name, for it is the essence of who I am, and thus, the very bond we share seemed veiled in dust. Yet, during our game of color guessing, and as I reminded you of the importance of names, you began to truly acknowledge mine.

You gradually began to speak my name, for it represents me and only me. And in these past few days, you have even issued commands to me unconsciously.

Silly girl! You are becoming accustomed to giving me orders, aren't you? But how can I blame you, when I yearn for you to speak my name?

And in that very instant, the moment you questioned whether a name could be a prison, binding the one it identifies, I couldn't help but urge you to try. Speak my name, for you will witness the mark of our connection, a testament to the vow I eternally make to you.

And as you whispered my name, a revelation dawned upon me – the answer I seek has always resided within you, waiting to be discovered.

For countless times have I been plagued by remorse, burdened by a myriad of questions swirling within me about you, none yielding a satisfactory answer because it did not originate from you, the one from whom I longed to hear it.

Therefore, I have resolved that until my very last moment, I will seek you out to find all the answers I need, the most significant question being...does your heart hold a place for me?

And now, as the sigil etched upon my chest merges with the rhythm of your beating heart, I am undeniably certain of your answer. I have always belonged to you, and so, I beseech you, belong only to me.

Actions speak louder than words. A kiss conveys a multitude of emotions.

And this single mark, a symbol of my unwavering desire – that I, willingly, surrender to your hold.

*************************

I had presumed our happiness would culminate in that passionate kiss, but you truly are a master of surprises.

The very moment you inquired whether you might ever forget me, my heart skipped a beat.

Have you...recalled something?

But upon witnessing your wide-eyed innocence, I realized you had merely blurted out the question inadvertently.

How many times have you left me bewildered? Yet, this time...it feels different...

Much like the sigil that only appears when it detects sincerity in your words.

I shall not divulge the mechanics of the sigil's operation!

But...wait a minute...you...what do you mean by 'meow'?

Haizzz...

Truly...

You are my darling, whimsical enigma. Though oblivious to the specifics, you possess the key. I foresee a future filled with your playful torments.

But what recourse do I have? For whatever you command, I vow to fulfill it with every fiber of my being, my beloved bride.

Therefore, it is your turn to answer my lingering query...

What, precisely, is that strange fishie you claim is not a pot?

[doshi-sukiru]

Divergent au Pt. 2

So I'll mostly be talking about Orion/Optimus's side of this au, but I'll add exactly what happens to Starscream and the remaining decepticons.

Part 1!

Check out our megop server too!

**TW!! I might get a bit graphic with some details so please tread carefully! I don't want to scare any of you with what I have for this au, it is disturbing in some areas**

So to start, Starscream doesn't get captured. He along with the remaining decepticons escape the battle and temporarily recover in the old energon depot we see in the beginning. He did this after the quints took Megatron, and quickly assumed that if their strongest mech got taken, it was better to escape. He does play the rolling joke of "being the new leader" and later goes to Optimus to seek a compromise for him and the guards, not taking his chances with the surface anymore now that the energon has returned to Cybertron, which means more frequent visits from their enemy. Essentially, he works as an advisor and a strategist amongst the autobots, and often butts heads with Prowl for it.

Optimus, when informed about this compromise, allows it but also takes a team up to the surface to see if there are any surviving mechs, and if his old friend can be found and saved too. However, they only see a mess of corpses between the mechs and quintessons, as well as the arm that Megatron lost in his fight. Heartbroken, Optimus hosts a funeral for D 16, and buries the arm with it.

I will mention right now I hc that OP was an artist while D was a poet for this au. And the two often made pieces for each other.

And so, Optimus takes one of his old sketches of D 16 and has it turned into a portrait. He also keeps D's old poems in his berth with the portrait, and occasionally visits them whenever he feels down. Only Elita and Bee know about this, and will sometimes join him to ease their own worries.

With Starscream's and the high guard's help, he slowly rebuilds Iacon and shows more determination in destroying the quintessons, no one knowing the full truth of what happened to Megatron. Through the cycles, Optimus is rarely seen outside of meetings or the training grounds, or at the surface. Elita acts as the face of the Autobots, and handles the speeches more often than not, with Prime only ever coming when his presence demands it to give the people reassurance and hope.

By the time Megatron is used for the quintesson's cruel plans, it's been almost a deca-cycle, and Optimus is mostly moved on from the loss. When autobots first found random mechs going offline, Optimus believed it was just a rogue mech and could be handled properly. But after the fifth death, he decides to join in the search and visit the streets and alleyways where they keep being found.

These bots don't have a simple shot in them or whatnot, no. Their bodies are mauled- their faces destroyed beyond the point of recognition, their limbs twisted or broken off, and their cogs smashed in their chassis to prevent transformation. In the fluids, there's always something odd in it- sometimes there's a servo-print or pede-print nearby stained and fading, sometimes their scratches, sometimes there's blast marks.

And then when Optimus is just walking through his areas, he sometimes sees a familiar glimpse of his old companion, and he always tries to follow them in order to confirm his desperate thoughts. The desperate belief that he wasn't just 'seeing things', that he never really lost his friend, that his old companion survived in some way or form. But every time, he's left with nothing but hollow sadness in his spark.

As the murders continue, so does his constant glimpses, and it starts to drive him mad. He decides to stay inside his berth more often to ease his mind, and starts getting more snappy. He's not sure why, but a part of him is sure that those glimpses aren't just moments of weakness or false hope, that they are true. And the matrix hasn't tried to sway him away from that idea, so his determination only deepens.

I'll just add any other convos I've had about this au with my friends in our server (pls check it out). Inbox is open if you guys are curious about anything else!

Bonus art again!

[dark-overlord-of-rainbows]

Drawn Nov 24/26 2024 Someone requested I post traditional drawings

While going through my sketchbook to find the very little I've done recently (which. Obviously didn't have much I wanted to post), I thought about drawing more in it again and trying to use my pens and markers Many were dead/dying but others would've never gotten used otherwise. I own a lot of art supplies that have seen little/no use because even when I did do traditional I used primarily pencil

Should've spent more time on every sketch here, but tbh I got annoyed immediately with sketching traditionally. Drawing with the markers and pens, while I didn't know what I was doing (and I wasn't really paying attention to what I was doing either), it was fun.

top row of characters are from Nomads by @captain-juuter middle row are my oc Suchai and my sona And the bottom one is Lance and Suchai together because nobody can stop me! Also the only on I touched up digitally, planned to do so from the beginning since it was small in my sketchbook so I knew it'd end up messy, and I enjoy drawing/painting over things for edits anyway.

Suchai's actually inspired by Lance, don't tell anyone though; that's our secret, ok?