#through my horrendous art skills

[thecranewivesrpf]

they think I'm looking at my phone smiling and typing because Im texting my crush. WRONG. I'm writing haikaveh

[metal-mouse]

Because You're Mine

pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC (m/f pairing)

themes: smut. troping tropeily. ye olde patch him up and then bang him.

warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. p in v. unprotected sex. fingering. horrendous pull out game. possessive!Ominis. someone threatens to dose you with a love potion. blood. mentions of violence. everyone is aged up.

summary: 3.9k word count. You are most surprised to see Ominis Gaunt return to you with a broken nose and a black eye from a fight. He's being awfully cryptic about who he got into a fight with, until you've finished healing him and he confesses why he's so upset.

note: Had a dream about this recently and decided to share it as a treat and also sometimes the best way to break through writer's block is to lean on the tropiest of tropes. Come get y'all juice. left MC house as ambiguous - I'm very Slytherin coded my b. i take liberties on what kind of undergarments they wear. Not an ounce of editing to be found.

@anto-pops @localravenclaw look guys i finished it

You didn’t look up from your book as the door to the Room of Requirement groaned open. There were only two people who knew of this room besides you, and as Professor Weasley hadn’t stepped foot in it since your fifth year, that left only one person. 

“Hello Ominis.” You called out your greeting, nearing the end of the page. He didn’t respond, which made you look up. You dropped the book and sat up straight at the sight of him. His cheeks were pink, there was a gash on the bridge of his nose which was steadily dripping blood, and one of his eyes was beginning to swell shut. Worry filled you, as your mind went to all of the worst case scenarios for what could have caused this. You stood up and hurried towards him, urging him to sit down on the sofa you had just been occupying. 

“Hello.” He said finally, in a dejected voice. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, a table appearing next to you with a bowl of water and some cloths. You very gently took his jaw in your hands as you tilted his head up to inspect his wounds. The cut on his nose was deep, and now that you were up close you could see his nose was slightly crooked. His pain was very evident, and his frown likely wasn’t making it any better. 

“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking.” Ominis hissed as you turned his head to get a better look at his eye. You were fairly certain his cheekbone wasn’t broken, which was more than you could say for his poor nose. 

“What happened?” You asked, ignoring his irritated sarcasm. If anything, it only suggested to you that he was fine beyond the wounds on his face and possibly a bruised ego. You weren’t sure if you had the skill to repair his nose. In the last year, you’d taken to spending more time in the hospital wing with Nurse Blainey. You’d assisted her during a detention once, and she had been more than happy to show you some of the healing arts. You knew the spell… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try? 

“I got into a fight.” He said, skirting around your question. 

“Well, obviously. I would love some detail, if you’re willing to provide. When Sebastian comes around all beat up like this it makes sense, but you mostly keep your hands to yourself,” You said while taking one of the cloths and gently pressing it to his nose, “hold that. I’m out of wiggenweld, I’m going to brew some.” His hand replaced yours as he held the cloth to staunch the blood dripping from his nose. You looked down at his uniform. His shirt and tie were covered in blood.

“Is detail truly important? I was in a fight, and now I’m here.” Ominis’ voice was muffled from the cloth. You poured some water into the cauldron atop your potions station. He was usually very open with you, content to tell you all of his deepest thoughts. Somewhere deep in your mind you wondered if this fight had somehow been caused by you. He had gone to Hogsmeade today with Sebastian, and Rookwood’s Ashwinders still tried to prey on you. You prepared your Horklump juice and Dittany leaves, waiting for the water in the cauldron to begin bubbling. It was strange that he would keep something like that from you, even if he didn’t want you to worry. 

“It’s clearly bothering you a lot, Ominis.” You said softly. He made an angry noise and didn’t respond. Now that the cauldron was bubbling, you added the ingredients and stirred the correct amount of times. You turned away to let it brew until it was ready, and returned to Ominis’ side. You wordlessly took the cloth from him and pulled it aside. It was drenched in blood, but it had mostly stopped the bleeding coming from both his nostrils and the gash on the bridge of his nose. 

“Ouch!” He hissed as you reached up and gently poked at his nose. 

“Stay still. It’s broken. Does anything else hurt?” You mumbled, climbing into his lap and holding his face steady with one hand. You fumbled for your wand, and he let out a little panicked breath and shook his head a little.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his good eye widening slightly.

“The Wiggenweld can’t straighten a broken nose. Don’t move. Episkey!” You said. He yelped as his nose cracked back into its normal position and the gash healed. You nodded in approval, pleased that the spell had worked. You’d never cast it beyond Nurse Blainey’s watchful eye. 

“There. I bet you can breathe a little better now.” You said, removing yourself from his lap to check on your potion. Ominis took a long, very audible breath. You watched him as he reached up and felt his nose. He looked absolutely miserable. Your lips pressed together in a frown, it was worrying how little information he was willing to divulge. 

“Have you seen Sebastian?” He asked. 

“No, I thought he was with you.” You said, scooping some of your completed wiggenweld potion into a glass. Anxiety briefly pulsed in your chest, worrying that whoever had attacked Ominis had also gotten Sebastian. No. He wouldn’t have come to you unless he knew Sebastian was safe. 

“He never met me. Must be with Violet.” He snorted, sounding absolutely furious with his friend. You tilted your head, making a small sound of agreement. Violet McDowell was Sebastian’s particular flavour this week after you’d forbidden him from asking Poppy Sweeting on a date. You had promised him swift and painful retribution if he had even looked at Poppy without the intent of marrying her and loving her forever. 

“Here. Drink this.” You said, handing Ominis the glass full of wiggenweld. You crouched in front of him, a hand on his knee balancing him as he drank. The bruising around his eye faded, and he sighed with relief as he set down the now empty glass. You stayed crouched before him, your fingers drumming on his knee as a sign that you would love an explanation. 

“You really can’t just let it go?” He asked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m worried. It’s frightening when you get hurt.” You squeezed his knee a little. He let out a little sight, his frown softening.

“No, please don’t apologize. It should be me apologizing, I can see how someone arriving covered in blood would be worrying - especially for you.” He put his hand over yours. You stood then, setting your wand to the side as you settled down beside him. 

“If you really don’t want to tell me what happened, please just tell me if this is going to be a recurring problem.” You said in compromise, taking his hand again. He looked deep in thought, clearly battling with his inner thoughts.

“I heard two sixth-years plotting about how they were going to slip you a love potion.” Ominis said finally. You blinked in surprise. Out of everything that could have come out of his mouth, that had been the one you least expected. 

“A love potion?” You echoed. He nodded, and you admired the rage on his face. He’d fought two boys purely because they wanted to give you a love potion. You fought the smile spreading on your lips. For someone who was awfully composed, he was certainly prone to his jealous moments. 

“Yes. A love potion. They’re lucky I haven’t gone directly to the Headmaster. I should have them both expelled.” He sneered. Your face went hot at the arrogance in his voice. You leaned in, loosening his bloody tie and tossing it to the side.

“You’re covered in blood.” You informed him. He wasn’t really listening to you at all, instead he was caught up in his own rage. You took that opportunity to unbutton his shirt so you could remove it and try to clean the blood off. 

“Foolish, impudent worms. Gryffindors always think they’re entitled to that which is not theirs.” He pulled his arms out of the sleeves when you tugged on his shirt. He may not have been paying attention to you, but you were hanging onto his every word. That which is not theirs? That statement certainly held some heavy implications. You were grateful he’d stepped in of course, love potions were risky and you did prefer to make your own decisions.

 Ominis continued his monologue, describing precisely what he had done to the Gryffindor boys for their crime. You took a clean cloth and dampened it to wipe the blood off his neck and chest. He’d been exceptionally cruel to the boys, and every word he spoke had your heart beating faster. It was becoming difficult to pay attention to your cleaning. He’d taken their threat personally, and had essentially destroyed them for it. Broken their wands, hanging them upside down from a tree, blackened eyes, he had truly done a number on them. Out of your little trio he was widely regarded as the most peaceful, with Sebastian being the most violence-prone and you falling somewhere between the two. He was incredibly protective of you, something you’d discovered even when your friendship had only just begun to bloom. 

His hand closed around your wrist suddenly, and you realized you had stopped moving. You looked at his face, his hair was a mess, his cheeks were still pink, and he held an expression you’d never seen before. You were suddenly desperate to break the silence. His other hand lifted to your cheek, his fingers delicately tracing along your jawline. 

“They can’t have you.” He whispered, his fingers moved down your neck slowly. Your breath hitched at this display of possessive intimacy that you had never seen before. You and Ominis had your fair share of intimate moments, but this? Never anything like this. This was an entirely new side to him. It was something you’d expect of Sebastian, the man who moped over girls he’d barely been involved with for longer than a week, but never Ominis. You didn’t know what to say. When you had first crossed that border between friendship and something more, it had been relatively laid back. You went for walks together, bought each other sweets and butterbeers from Hogsmeade, and spent late nights in each other’s arms in the Room of Requirement or the Undercroft. This change was almost as unexpected as its impact on you. You knew deep down that this should not be making you so aroused.  

“Where has thi–'' You were cut off when Ominis leaned in and kissed you. You dropped the cloth from your hand as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap. You draped one arm behind his neck, and rested the palm of your other on his cheek with your fingers in his hair as you matched his passion. It wasn’t rough, so much as it was claiming. His cold hands pressed against the skin of your back making you gasp and arch against him. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue moving so sinfully your core was steadily aching now. You knew precisely what that tongue was capable of, and you’d grown to anticipate it. Dream about it even. 

His rapidly warming fingers stroked your sides as he brought them under your front and withdrew them from your shirt entirely. As Ominis began to unbutton your shirt, you began to lightly rock your hips to create some friction between you and the bulge in his trousers. He let out a low groan and proceeded to rip your shirt open. Your eyes snapped open as you sat back a little bit in surprise, but he pulled you back against him with a single tug of your shirt. His hands went to your chest, and he let out a dark laugh against your mouth when he felt only skin. You weren’t wearing anything under your shirt. His mouth lowered and he left hot, wet kisses and little nips down your jaw and onto your neck. You couldn’t contain the small moans and gasps that tumbled from your lips. 

Ominis’ tongue ran along your collar, and his hands roamed to your backside where he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up more. The hand you had in his hair shot to the back of the sofa to brace yourself. You cried out as he bit down on the side of your breast. His tongue delicately swiped out licking the hurt he’d just caused. He held you up with one arm, his other hand running along your backside and between your legs. The fabric of your trousers was disappointingly thick, and you felt far too constrained while wearing them. His hand moved to cup your breast as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. He stopped suddenly, his hands falling to your waist as he pushed you back slightly. 

“Take off your trousers.” He commanded. The bark in his voice sent a wave of heat to your core. You stood up, fumbling with the buttons before finally pushing them down. He reached out and made a sound of displeasure when his hands ran over your underwear. He hooked his thumbs in the waistline and yanked them down. You stepped out of your trousers and undergarments, and Ominis checked to make sure you’d done precisely what he had wanted. He made no move to remove his trousers. You stared at his bulge desperate to see him undressed. It wasn’t fair that you were now bare in front of him, and he was still half-dressed. 

“I want to taste you.” You pleaded in an attempt to get him to take his trousers off. 

“As reluctant as I am to deny you, don’t you think you’ve taken enough care of me today?” Ominis’ lips twisted into an arrogant smile, as he turned you around and pulled you back. You fell into his lap. One of his arms looped around you pulling you back against his chest. His lips pressed to your neck, leaving kisses and small bites all along the smooth column. He pushed your legs open wide, biting down hard on the flesh of your shoulder. You cried out, your eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable pain. One hand ran along the inside of your thigh, and the other stayed planted on your belly. 

“Those fools think they could have this. That they could have what is mine.” His breath was hot on your neck. You whined as his hand stroking your thigh got closer and closer to where you wanted it. 

“Please Ominis.” You complained when his fingers brushed next to your wet and aching center but he didn’t touch it. Your lip curled, two could play at this game. You began to rotate your hips slowly, grinding down on the bulge in his pants. Your hands covered his and you moved them to where you wanted them to be. One between your legs on your heat, the other cupping your breast. He huffed out a laugh.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He chided. 

“I thought you wanted to prove I’m yours.” Now this spurred him on. Without warning he curled two fingers inside of you. Your back arched as you let out a gasp and Ominis began to pump his long fingers deep inside of you, ensuring the heel of his palm pressed against your clit while he worked. While his fingers curled against your sweet spot, you shamelessly rutted against his palm to elevate you even higher into ecstasy. 

“Is that better, darling?” He asked, nibbling on the back of your ear. 

“Uh huh.” You moaned, nodding your head. You wished you could kiss him. You wanted to face him and have him buried deep inside of you. You would have turned around if this didn’t feel so fucking good. There was something about him being in complete control and doing what he wanted with you. You weren’t even tied up, yet you felt useless to do anything to pleasure him beyond grinding against his bulge. There was a tantalizing pressure building inside of you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Ominis seemed to have realized as he pressed further into you and his fingers kept up the exact same pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat. 

“Right there?” He asked. You nodded against him, unable to form a coherent thought. You writhed against him, pressing his palm hard against your clit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you fell over the edge and bolts of pleasure made your toes curl. You let out a sinful scream that may have been his name. Ominis didn’t stop, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand until your knees clamped together and he withdrew. You were a panting mess as he gently guided you to lay on your back. You heard the sound of his belt hitting the ground, and you opened your eyes and watched him pull down his trousers. You moaned at the sight of his cock springing free, delightfully pink and large. 

Ominis knelt on the couch between your knees, lowering himself over you. Impatient and greedy, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to press your lips to his. You were hungry for him, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip prompting him to open up for you. You were certain the way he tasted would stay with you for the rest of your life, so damn sweet and addicting. Reaching down, you gently wrapped your hand around his cock and lined it with your entrance. Slowly, Ominis pressed into you with a low moan. You were distracted from your kiss at the feeling of his cock filling you up. He always went slow when he started, knowing it drove you crazy. Once he was sheathed fully inside of you, he stayed completely still aside from the hand that laced in your hair lifting your head again to press a sweet kiss against your lips. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered as his forehead rested against yours. His eyes snapped open at this, his fingers curling so he was pulling your hair. He ground into you, and you choked on a moan. Ominis pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back into you with a husky groan. He hooked his free arm behind your knee, pushing your leg up and out of the way as he settled into a slow and steady rhythm. 

“Of course you have. I fit s-so perfectly, it’s like you were made for me.” The little stammer in his sentence made your heart flutter. You gasped when Ominis rolled his hips forward deepening his thrusts. Your nails scraped across his shoulders as your mind was overtaken by pleasure and thoughts of him. The moans and small praises that came as a steady stream from his mouth paired with his cock hitting every angle inside of you had you on a high you didn’t think possible. 

You arched your back in an attempt to let him deeper inside of you. Despite being connected at your most intimate part, you wanted more. You wanted inside of his heart, inside of his soul. Through your pleasure, you opened your eyes to look upon his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded with pleasure, his mouth hung open and his skin completely flushed, his hair an absolute mess. You loved it. Without warning, Ominis picked up the pace slamming into you without restraint. You dug your fingernails into his shoulders now, forcing him down to kiss you. His arms wrapped around your waist arching your back even further and changing the angle which he fucked into you. Between the feeling of his lips on yours, and his cock inside your already sensitive cunt, you were rapidly tumbling towards another orgasm. When Ominis took one hand from under you and reached down to rub circles on your swollen clit, your head fell back.

“Come.” Ominis ordered, and you didn’t even have it in you to scream this time. Ominis muttered a string of curse words as your walls clenched around him and you rose up to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder. It was almost painful how hard he had made you come, and some primal part of you needed him to share in that feeling. He kept his steady pace, not faltering once as he chased his own pleasure with a great moan. The hand that had been rubbing you clamped around your neck and squeezed. You watched him and saw in his face he was close. You met his thrusts, matching his rhythm. His chest heaved and a light sheen of sweat had formed across his body. In that moment you were certain that it wouldn’t matter if someone gave you a love potion, Ominis was all you’d be able to see. 

“Yours, Ominis.” You whispered, incapable of telling him truly what you were thinking. His fingers dug into you and his grip on your neck tightened. Almost there. You watched in awe as his head dropped and he let out a guttural groan that slightly resembled your name. His cock twitched and his body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you with shallow thrusts. Ominis’ hand let go of your throat, and he collapsed on top of you. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you wrapped your arms around him holding him tight to your chest. You pressed kisses to the top of his head and he let out a wordless groan. After a few moments passed, Ominis slowly pulled out leaving you feeling empty.

“We should have conjured a bed.” He mumbled. You let out a little laugh as one appeared next to the sofa. Ominis rolled over, taking you with him so that you were laying on his chest instead of him atop of you. You knew that you should get up and probably clean yourself off, but with his arms around you and your genuine concern about your ability to stand, you were content to just stay. 

“Maybe you should get into more fights.” You sighed, reveling in the lovely feelings of your afterglow. He laughed, gently rubbing your back.

“If men don’t learn how to behave, I just might.” He said. You could do without him getting injured, but if this was how he reacted when he was jealous or feeling possessive? You could definitely get behind that. 

“I’ll be here when you do.” You sighed, thinking about how you should really restock on your wiggenweld potions. 

“And, for the foreseeable future, I will be tasting your food and drink before you.” Ominis said, making you snort. 

“What am I, the Queen of England? I don’t need a food taster, Ominis, if anything I’ll just start carrying around an antidote to love potions.” You told him.

“You can be my Queen.” He grinned at you.

“You’re not allowed to speak with Sebastian anymore, he’s rubbing off on you.” You sat up a little bit to get a better angle as you looked down at his face. 

“That’s your job, Darling.” 

“My point has been proven.” You smiled widely at the sound of his laughter. When you were with Ominis is when you were happiest. You were safe, comfortable, and content. You were in love, and you were his.

[curlyfriesgalore]

curly can't sing.

as the title says, it's a headcanon i randomly had when playing my mouthwashing sims 4 household (lol), where swansea and curly went karaoke-ing at 'waterside warble' in san myshuno. curly sang horrendously since he just gained the skill. though, it made me think, how funny would it be if curly genuinely couldn't sing for shit?

it's the one thing jimmy has leverage over (he's no better, really), and curly is painfully aware of his tone-deafness, so he never reveals it unless it's for a special occasion... with an extra special someone there to watch him perform (miserably).

that being said, daisuke suggested the crew do something fun to celebrate the completion of their shipment, so why not do some karaoke?

★ a sfw one-shot broken down into bullets with chat-format segments for dialogue. fair warning, there are a few suggestive moments, but the implications aren't overt. [2,817 words]

☆ gen tags: set in 2005. gn! reader who is a doctor and a great singer. none of the game's events happen, so they're just a bunch of folks doing regular space deliveries, but jimmy is still an unpleasant ass that gets on the reader's nerves. reader and curly are crushing on each other (they're on the brink of knowing it's reciprocal). manfailure curly but he's trying his best... whatever that best is (lmfao, accurate to canon 😭). curly -> grant (name switch at some point in the fic). there's one moment where curly and reader share a glass, so just letting you know in case you're not a fan of that :)

[i'm still on break, but i wanted to write something more concise and improvised in under a day! and i won't lie, i find fics including everyone to be so fun to write. i really love testing out my characterizations of the crew and have them interact in relaxed scenarios. art by kafukafukadayo on twt. —iris🌠]

while you bask in the dim hues of red lights, the instrumental of an electropop softens into silence as it tandems with your pants. when you peel your eyes open, everyone's gaping their mouths and raising their brows—even jimmy, ever the unimpressed, is surprisingly taken aback, and you're taken aback by that alone.

daisuke springs from the leather sofa. he bounds towards you, grips both your shoulders, and shakes you senselessly, his hand still somehow clutching his open flip phone.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"doc, that... was... INSANE!" he jostles your body back and forth between his pauses, swaying you with all his might as he nearly forces the microphone to drop out your hand. daisuke swishes his head, finally letting you go, "wh—buh?! how do you—are you imogen heap reincarnated?!"

anya snorts, sounding like a stuffed trumpet. "dai, imogen's alive! she's only 27." swansea follows suit, his deep chuckle rumbling through his belly, crossed arms resting atop. "pfft, that's far from dead."

daisuke rolls his eyes away from the two, "tch, you get what i mean! like, look—!" he speedily dials the buttons on his phone, opening his gallery and brandishing a pixelated clip of you singing along to the mbira melody and string bass beats, the crunchy electronic syncs with your ethereal mezzo-soprano. daisuke snaps the phone shut with his palm, raising his free hand in surrender. "if that's not the lead singer of frou frou, then i don't know who is." he takes the remote, looking through what next to sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

amid the nurse, mechanic, and intern belting their lungs out to "hey ya!" curly sits, and you stand before him. his ocean eyes swim in awe as he cranes his neck to face you. you're glowing. your head perfectly aligns right in front of the carmine light; its luminescence filters around your shadowed outline, like you were some angel graced from above with an even more angelic voice to come with. it was sort of comical how the largest man in the room felt so small beneath your presence.

there's a dew of sweat hanging below your bottom lip, and curly can't help but bite his. that is until he slips his teeth back in when you cushion yourself onto the couch, spreading your legs wide with an arm lounging on the headrest behind him. curly huffed a laugh and leaned into the shiny sofa, letting his scalp fall onto your forearm.

even with your tongue tucked inside your parted lips, curly could practically see your papillae beg for freshness. he smiles, momentarily stretching his back away from the couch to grab your drink and hands it to you. a raspy thanks escape your parched throat.

your neck bobs with every gulp, drinking like it's the last you'll ever taste water. curly tries his hardest not to let his gaze linger longer than it should, but the way your head tilts back and your hand grips the glass, he can't help but swallow some of that imaginary water himself.

a contented sigh leaves you. you flick your eyes to him and just about see the last of his adam's apple slurp up nothing. you gesture the drink, asking if he wants it. curly is briefly hesitant until he turns to see his empty cup and shrugs, "sure, why not?"

as curly takes his sip, he notices the beaded sweat shining on your lip more notably than before. his brows raise ever so subtly, ruminating his next moves. when you still fail to realize the wetness glistening at your mouth's rim, he pulls the drink away from himself.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hey, can i...?"

your eyes widen softly as you watch his thumb inch toward your jaw. you flick your view down, puffing out your lower lip to see a dab of sweat cling onto you for dear life. you look back at him and nod. curly gently takes a hold of your chin, thumbing the sudor away while his remaining fingers brush against your neck. you take in the moment, eyes half-lidded and lips ever so parted. he wasn't glancing at you, but you could tell he wanted to, for his warm breath quiets the longer you study him—noticing the way his tongue peeks out his mouth or how his golden greying hair falls over the wrinkles etched into his temple. "you know," moments before he drops his hand, he finally manages to look you in the eye, your faces merely inches apart. "your performance really gave me chills." you smirked, "is that why you didn't speak up?" your tease brought curly to a laugh, the bass in his voice strong. "i can't help but be mesmerized when that's how you sing, doc."

you hummed a titter, nodding to yourself as you thanked him with a delicate smile. "you can drop the formalities, grant. we're at a karaoke bar, not the tulpar."

whether or not you noticed the hitch in his breath, grant softened upon hearing his first name, oftentimes forgetting that's who he actually is. his head tilts down, blithely sighing before picking himself up to show you his grin, "okay, okay..." he momentarily chuckles, now resting his elbow on the headrest, propping it up, and leaning onto his knuckles next to your arm still lying there. "well, my point still stands. you have an incredibly captivating voice, y/n." "oh, stop it...!" you both become a blushing, giggling mess. your other hand finds its way to rest on your knee, which sits right against grant's. as you speak about your singing history, grant brings his free palm to his thigh, pretending to unintentionally graze his calloused fingers against your nails. he listens intently to how you'd belt out your favorite songs on repeat, albeit the sound of daisuke and anya screaming, "HEEEY YAAA!" and the tidbits of exhaustion lingering in his mind make your words muffle into incoherent jargon.

"but enough about me, i wanna hear you." you catch his eyes snapping away from both his and your legs smushing together, hoping you don't notice the blankness in his brain. "or are you just charming me to stall your big reveal, hm?"

grant's jaw falls, and utterances of filler words filter out his mouth, but before he can respond, daisuke catches wind of their conversation as outkast's song dies down in the background.

"oh, yeah!" daisuke takes a swig of his soda. after a sigh of satisfaction and couple of lip smacks, daisuke leaps from his end of the couch and motions to the two, microphone in hand. "it's your turn to solo, captain!"

"uhh, i don't know if i should..." grant sheepishly waves the mic away, his eyes shifting between everyone's expressions. daisuke is pouting and pleading with puppy eyes. anya just gives him a thumbs-up and a classic comforting smile. swansea is indifferent. jimmy, who's been leaning against the palm tree printed wall for the past four songs, beer in hand, grows an all-too-familiar smirk. then there's you, expectantly looking at him with overlaid eyes he wishes to see in a different setting... that of his bedroom—

"aww, why not, curl? we've done our parts. 's only fair you do yours, too." jimmy's tone was far from welcoming, sounding more like a jab than anything. you narrowed your sights at him, "didn't you only sing in the group ones?" jimmy shrugs. "look," after taking another chug of his can, raising his hands in defeat. "my karaoke quota's been filled. sorry." you simply roll your eyes. before the tension thickens, daisuke interjects, "ah, don't worry, cap. i bet your voice sounds super cool, like superhero cool! you've got that gruffness that swan's got... but y'know... less croaky n' stuff!" "'scuze me?" swansea lifts a single brow, anya stifles a laugh, and daisuke flails his hands in defense, "eh- i mean it as a compliment! you've got a sick voice, swansea." "emphasis on sick..." anya cheekily comments under her breath, and for the first time in forever, swansea's jaw drops. he coughs out a laugh that's been lodged in his throat for god knows how long and shakes his head, pointing his thumb at the giggling woman. "wowww, aren't you, the nurse, supposed to be fixing that?" anya nods to you, "only under doctor's orders." the two have a back and forth, but daisuke still stands in front of grant, intent on lending the mic to the man.

"i—okay..." grant crumbles under the pressure, caving in when you whisper a couple of encouragements. daisuke cheers, anya claps, swansea bobs his head in support, jimmy fakes a whoop, and you—genuinely—hype him up with a holler.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

grant purses his lip as he presses the buttons on the remote while daisuke guides him through the songs on the screen.

jimmy leaves his spot, his boot denting a scuff mark on the wallpaper. your nose flares, watching him carelessly toss the can into the bin as he makes his way to sandwich you between him and swansea, purposefully maximizing the width of how far he can stretch his legs.

you ignore him, opting to watch someone much cuter. grant turns to you, awkwardly smiling as you return a thumbs-up. he focuses back on daisuke, who's now raving over a song he definitely thinks grant should sing.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you know he's shit, right?" your brows contort into a furrow, still not looking at the man. "the fuck you mean?" you never had much patience for jimmy, of all people, so your courtesies never fail to fall short with him. "you know who i mean—him." jimmy gestures to grant, pointer finger flicking at the blond. "no shit, sherlock. i'm saying, what are you specifically referring to?" "obviously, his voice, sherlock." he drawls the two syllables, the stench of yeast and malt oozing out of his mouth and into your unfortunate nose. "he'll make your ears bleed, trust me." finally, you face him and stare at jimmy's smugness with an incredulous squint. seriously, how the fuck does grant put up with him? you couldn't even stand the guy's presence, let alone his incessant insults on grant himself. "do you do anything but complain?" you sneer. "nope." jimmy curtly replies, mouthing a pop after the 'p' as he claws a hand over the chips bowl, stuffing his face with grease. at this point, you weren't sure if you should stay annoyed or be slightly impressed with his sheer ability to find the worst in everything. "some fucking friend..." you say to yourself, already past the point of defeat. with his mouth still full of food, jimmy responds, "hey, as his friend, i'm actively warning you. i've known this guy long enough to be there for his first choir class." "whatever, we'll see." you huffed, relaxing on the couch, sitting much closer to swansea than the other. "it's not like you've got much credibility, anyway." you think back to moments ago, whenever it was jimmy's turn to sing his parts, his half-assed attempts barely constitutes as a grumble. jimmy snickers, "who says i'm denying that? just 'cause i don't care doesn't mean i'm wrong."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you have never been more relieved to hear a soft pop interlude, forcing the conversation to a close.

daisuke flops onto the sofa next to anya and flips open his phone, pressing record as the tv flashes the music video to "shape of my heart." you lean behind swansea and lock eyes with daisuke, who abashedly giggles when you mouth, 'you chose this, didn't you?' to which he nods excitedly.

ah, daisuke, ever the avid backstreet boys fanatic.

your eyes fall back to grant. the man fidgets with his microphone, and his shoe frantically taps to the beat, pursing his lips into a tight smile in hopes it will clench down the shivers rising with the guitar strums. you silently cheer him on when he starts humming, following the yellow highlight filling up the white text reading ♪ yeah, yeah ♪, and—

oh!

...oh

oh, god.

jimmy... wasn't wrong, far from it, actually—as much as it pains you to admit.

the very moment grant hits that ♪ baby ♪, it's all downhill from here. it's as if his pitch took a trip to six flags. his questionably paced breaths mimic a ride with an unnecessary amount of loop-the-loops, and his tone flip-flops between a coarse rasp and an oddly airy twang, like a reverse bungee slingshotting into the air.

grant's eyes squeeze shut, facing away from the crew. either he was incredibly invested or excruciatingly embarrassed, and with how he was really getting into that chorus, nobody could tell. he only ever peeks to look at you, though, clearly awaiting your approval, to whom you always beam, your face mixed in pity and affection.

as much as he sounded like a crow was clawing its way out of his esophagus, you couldn't help but find his attempts to be really wholesome. maybe it's your pre-existing bias, and maybe it's because this feels like he's serenading every line at you, but it's hard not to fall for this vocal failure of a man—even though everyone else's expressions say otherwise.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"told you so," jimmy taunts in your ear, sickeningly chuckling at grant without hesitation. "woo! curly, you go, dude!" he cheers, voice dipped in mockery. all you do is click your tongue and face the others, choosing to listen in on anya and swansea. "you sure i'm the one that's 'sick'?" swansea jokes, albeit laced with genuine disgust. he leans to you, whispering the same revulsion, "you both need to rethink your careers."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

anya simply grimaces, trying her hardest to make it look like a grin, but her knit brows and frown give way.

daisuke's eyes say everything. they're wide, and his pupils constrict like he's a cartoon. his hand hesitantly grips onto his flip phone, unsure if he should keep the camera going. as his leg rapidly bounces and his teeth bite down on his paint-chipped nails, his gaze slowly turns away from grant's caterwauling and towards the rest of the crew.

moreover, you're just as guilty. although you're not irked by this newfound fact, a wince washes over you the moment you are out of grant's sights.

suddenly, after the first chorus, the song reveals a blue highlight painting the white text. grant falters, his voice shrinking when he sees the two primary colors play different lyrics simultaneously. everyone takes notice, their faces easing from cringe to confusion. then it clicks.

this was a duet.

daisuke palms his face with a slap—that's his bad. you skim the room, and everyone's exchanging glances, implicitly questioning who'll aid their poor captain.

without hesitation, you jump to the rescue. snatching a mic from the coffee table and quickly singing your parts, striding your way towards grant, who immediately picks up where he's left off, still shrill as ever.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

♪ i'M hEre WIDTH myYy...! confEh shion ♪, in a sheer attempt at confidence, grant belts his lyrics. his dimples dig into his smile, sending you the much-needed energy to sing your lines. ♪ got nothing to hide no more ♪. you sway your head in accordance with the melody, ball up your fist, and let your fingers spread far and wide, wiping the air as you and grant's steps magnetize toward each other. ♪ i don't kNOw whe...rE to st-art ♪; warbling his words, grant's gaze softens when you're within arms reach. he lowers his neck, brings the mic close to his lips, and grazes your forearm, wishing he could feel the flush skin of your waist and reel you in. ♪ but to show you... ♪, as both lyrics meld into one, you take his hand into yours. ♪...the shA-pe of mY hEart ♪

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke bursts into song, singing the first line of the last verse, startling everyone in the process. anya joins in, now standing with daisuke as both pull swansea to his feet. the mechanic begrudgingly croons along to his intern's baritone and his nurse's soprano.

daisuke beckons for jimmy to come with him, but in classic jimmy zare fashion, he remains stagnant. the younger man frowns. though, he quickly reminds himself that there are only five members in BSB, anyway. so daisuke hands jimmy his phone instead, telling the co-pilot to make sure that everyone's in frame.

they've turned this into a concert for a one-man audience, who's hating every second of it.

save for jimmy, currently grousing under his breath, the crew wraps their arms around each other's shoulders and chants their hearts out to the R&B melody.

as the track nears its final moments, you and grant rest your hands on each other's waists, pulling your bodies close as your head leans on his pec. neither of you realizes that you've left the other three, who are all too busy rocking side to side to notice the two of you in a side embrace, minds too carried away to feel jimmy's prickly leer.

[oh my god, i genuinely didn't even intend for this ending, but here we are 🥹! i hope you guys liked this, and if anyone has comments on how i wrote everyone's dialogue and mannerisms, like what worked, or if you have suggestions for any additions, please let me know! i still need to learn more about writing anya, since in canon, it's hard to get a read of her real personality through jimmy's lens. still, so far, i like to think she enjoys teasing people she's comfortable with. as for swansea, i'm trying to lean into his meanness more, but i'm saving most of that for a daisuke fic centered on swansea's pov, so we'll see what i do when i get there! —iris🌠]

[green-typewriterz]

can you write an art donaldson fic where the reader has been in love with him for the past ten years but it’s obviously unrequited love… until art divorces tashi.

ps: can it be a lil angsty? I love it

Obsessed with your ex

Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi x reader if your looking at the subtext

Ask: above

summary: you're in love with Art...but due to a rather obvious factor known as Tashi Duncan, it's severely unrequited.

Warnings: none?? I guess swearing

Author Notes: sorry this took so long love!!! I was in a major editing groove for a long while meaning my writing got unceremoniously sent to the backburner... but i'm back with this as a sort of consolation!! also i was listneing to teeth by lady gaga on loop while writing this which is why theres some very gay subtext between you and tashi...

word count: 1826

Tashi fucking Duncan. That’s how she was known in your subconscious - though you weren’t sure if it was a positive or negative thing. You wanted to be her, of course you did. She had everything you wanted. A natural skill for tennis, perfect looks and a close (confusing) relationship with both Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

Obviously, you were horrendously in love with Art and it hurt to an almost embarrassing degree when some more crass girls in your tennis class began to gossip about Tashi making out with him and Patrick. You weren’t sure where they could’ve got the information, so you told yourself it wasn’t true - a rumour. Regardless, it hurt. Maybe it hurt just as much as Art Donaldson having no clue you felt how you did.

You were reasonably close with Tashi, close enough to call yourself a friend but it was reasonably clear to most that you wanted what she had (and maybe you also wanted her as much as Zweig and Donaldson though that was a deeper emotion). It was interesting to watch how she’d interact with each boy as if they were pawns, something that was increasingly clear at that fateful match.

You could hear the crunch throughout the entire court, though the scream was what rattled you. Art leapt from his place in the stands, running as if she were going to die. You stood, racket still in hand, shifting awkwardly in the absence of play before making your way over to your friend to check on her.

Art knew you were trying to be helpful, his small, thin lipped smile showing this clearly, but Tashi didn’t want you there. So that was that. You let him take over and rocked back on your shins, eyes tracking his hands that gently held her head. A more desperate side of you seemed to hope that it had been you who had broken your leg so he would be holding you instead.

This accident, though sadding, seemed to be detrimental to the success of your career. It was as though you had escaped the shadow of Tashi fucking Duncan and could finally play your best. You slowly but surely took Tashi’s career, the trophies she should’ve won, the brand deals she should’ve posed for. You weren’t ever really sure how to feel - though, you had always wanted to be her.

___

TEN YEARS LATER

Ten years pass quickly yet with excruciating slowness and you found yourself at a peak in your career, winning match after match. This particular one was no different. You were playing against Mueller - a match you knew you’d easily win due to the girl's childish anger.

Your eyes scan the crowd, seeing who had bothered to watch a match with such an obvious ending and you were shocked to see an old face in the crowd. Tashi fucking Duncan. She was sitting comfortably in a lacoste shirt - one that was presumably Art’s - with a large pair of rather reflective sunglasses but her small smile said everything.

It was the nod she sent you that sent a shiver through you. She wanted you to win, told you to win all with just a nod. It was like she wrapped her arms around you and whispered it - you stood in place for a moment, pausing for longer than usual before your serve. The breath you let out was shaky but determined. She told you to win. And so of course you did.

You were the one to approach her after, thanking her for coming and other similar niceties. Eventually though, these ran out and you resorted to the questions you actually wanted to ask.

“How’s Art?”

“Tired.”

Oh. You had expected a longer response at the least. Then again, you hadn't expected her to be so honest - it wasn’t something she was known for. You stood in silence for a bit, still wiping the sweat of the game from your brow when you said, “why are you here?”

Tashi paused, smiling. She had wanted you to ask. “I wanted to see you beat that racist bitch.” The reply was blunt and, yet again, honest. You laughed gently and your eyes trailed to Mueller who was red faced and whining, eyes stroppily trained on the floor.

“Are you happy I did win?”

“No. You’re where I should be. But good for you.”

You paused and almost let her walk away but found your words before it would be a moment too late and followed after - if you were watching yourself do this you would’ve kicked yourself for how pathetic you looked. “Tashi, I idolised you. You had… still have everything I want.”

Tashi’s eyebrow raise spoke for her. She wanted to know what you meant, she was giving you a chance to explain yourself without mentioning her husband.

“I just mean I look up to you, as a player, as a coach.” you replied, attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment of the words you had spoken prior. Your thumb idly massaged circles into your palm as she tilted her head to the side, analysing you.

“Y/n, you’re a good player, with a good coach. But you’re too unemotional, too kind,” Tashi replied, voice even and accurate. She was right, you were far too nice on the pitch. You had never found that anger that other players had, never experienced that rage that made a game so entertaining. Tashi was bored.

“So?”

“So be a bitch. God knows most tennis players deserve it.”

You nod, muttering regards toward art.

---

“I watched Y/n play. She was good.” Tashi said idly, sitting on their clean white sofa, brushing through the blonde hair that rested against her shoulder.

Art looked up, eyes worn but curious all the same. “Was she you?” The question was one he had asked often, though he never meant any malice toward you with it. He asked this whenever Tashi watched a tennis player, something to praise her. This time though, her response had changed, her face lifted with a soft smile.

“She could be.”

---

NEW ROCHELLE

You were through to the English open, of course you were, but your coach still thought it a smart idea to get you to play the New Rochelle challenger as a warm up, to get you ready. Part of you felt like you were just there as an advert, as if you had been invited to play for the sake of selling tickets - you weren’t sure how much you minded this idea.

Something unexpected, however, was Art Donaldson and Tashi Donaldson sitting in the stands, watching you play against the poor tennis player who wasn’t handling her current loss well.

Tashi leans toward her husband. “She’s good,” she whispers. She’s testing him, seeing if he can spot what she had.

“She’s too kind.”

Your eyes linger on Art, trailing over his face. You were still horrendously attracted to him, in fact, you weren’t sure that feeling ever left. Tashi, ever vigilant, had realised this - of course she had. Her stare felt so much more grating without her sunglasses. She knew how to change your emotion, she needed you irritated, jealous so she could watch an entertaining match. Her hand gently resting on Art’s thigh seemed to do this.

You win with much more ferocity than you had been known for, something that erupts the crowd, cheers ringing through you. It felt more rewarding somehow, to win this way. You hadn’t been kind. It felt fun.

Tashi’s smile was venomous. She was right about you. Art followed you back to the changing rooms, wanting to congratulate you but instead found you pacing. You looked up to face him, face hot in embarrassment.

“You won.”

“Fuck the win. I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

His brows furrowed as he stepped closer, holding your hand in his to get you to stop pacing. You pulled away but came to a stop in front of him, angry. He stared for a moment before saying, “I thought you liked playing?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, shaking. “I do but that’s not what I want. I don’t want to win. I want something else and Tashi knows it but you never did.”

Art’s more confused now, standing silently as you sit down on the locker room bench, head in your hands. “What do you want?”

You scoff and look up, fury dissipating into disappointment toward both him and yourself. “The fact that you still don’t know now tells me everything.”

You let him walk out silently.

---

Art’s game was much more interesting. It was like watching a dance, the way he and Patrick moved was something you had never seen before. Patrick, as per usual, was cocky and irritating - something you had oddly found endearing when you were younger - but it was Art that had you fixed. He was furious, eyes sharp with tears and knuckles white. There was something that only the three of them knew that created this anger, creating such a captivating match.

The only thing, in your opinion, that beat the high emotion of the match was seeing Art after it, face red and shirt slick with sweat. The thing that held your attention, however, was the slight tan line around his finger. He had taken off his wedding ring.

---

A FEW MONTHS LATER - WIMBLEDON

Art was ready to retire and had been for a while, but you were still going, having found a more passionate love for tennis than you had had before. You were warming up before your final match, only an hour or so before playing the finals at the English open when there was a soft knock on the door of your dressing room.

You opened the door to see Art standing there, eyes soft and observant. You let him in, eyes still stuck to his ringless finger. He traced over your features, seemingly committing parts to memory. “You’ll win today,” He said after a while, words as gentle as the smile on his face.

“Maybe. But am I Tashi?”

“You’re better.”

You both laugh quietly, nothing but a few short breaths, then stare at each other. Though it seemed as though that didn’t last long. Art crossed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. He tasted sweet, like strawberries and cream - no doubt from one of the many Wimbledon food trucks that sold them. You leaned into him, hand finding a place on his thin waist. His own calloused hands rested against your hips, his lips moving gently against yours. Eventually, you both pulled apart, foreheads rested against one anothers. Art smiled.

“I know you’ll win. But just for luck.”

He placed a final kiss against the corner of your smile and headed toward the door, sending a final glance in your direction. You knew you were going to win too, though it felt like - in a way - you already had.

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

Savannah Squad Presentation Night Headcanons/Drabble [3/3]

I totally didn't forget about this, I don't know what you are talking about (I'm sorry, I suck at finishing things & I don't know how to write for these two ;_;)

Part 1: Taylor & Logan Part 2: Ben & Tyler Part 3: Aiden & Ashlyn

Start of the drabble:

Thankfully, with Aiden's good laptop, there were no more technical difficulties for the rest of the night. But that in no way means the rest of the night is calm, and that is simply because Aiden has gotten up to the front of the room drip drying while setting up his presentation. Logan is then left mopping up the previous puddle he left from when Tyler dumped the entire contents of the spray bottle on him. For the betterment of the final two presentations, and Logan's floor, the spray bottle was retired for the night.

When Aiden is finished setting up, the TV practically demands for the attention of the rest of the group for none of the right reasons. It is horrendous. Astronomically so; the title of the presentation is somehow even worse.

Aiden Clark

(off topic, looking at my old art makes me want to vomit)

You see the title. That's not the bad part. The bad part is the fact that the slideshow is like thirty slides with multiple images per slide. The worst part is the fact that it's volume one. Check this man's storage, I promise you there is absolutely nothing left.

I want you to imagine you are just in a dark room with friends only lit by the TV and a small laptop screen. Imagine that, and then imagine this flashbang of a presentation popped on screen and each slide only gets progressively worse. Aiden is capable of making good presentations, he strikes me as a more artistic type, this is poorly made on purpose. Because why not.

This presentation is pretty much just going through his camera roll, but its categorized by person and gets progressively more deranged as they're section goes on. Which means the person with the longest section gets the worst of it. Which means Tyler gets the worst of it.

Like Ash got off pretty easy, Logan too. Taylor, gets the next longest section because I can see her and Aiden enabling each other to do dumb shit (one of the videos is her stuck in a traffic cone trying to get Tyler to help her out (spoiler: he didn't)), he lives with Ben so he absolutely has material on him, mainly his shit cooking. Then there's Tyler... half of the photo's aren't even of him!!! He just made dumb ass bottom text memes. They're not even funny ;_;

Aiden put his photoshop skills to work cause he is pulling up pictures like this:

He also screenshots texts too. I want to give you examples, but everything I can think of can't be put here cause I don't want to be considered weird. It's nothing bad, it's just like teenage humor. like ironic stuff.

Just think teenage boy humor, but if it was made by a decent person and wasn't problematic. Like how people would jokingly flirt with their friends and the other person is like "bro, wtf 💀"

so the presentation is just Aiden avoiding things being thrown at him while he exposes the group

(I had to tone this down because teenage humor does not translate to written word without sounding like a creep! I'm banking on the fact that you've just seen teenagers interact with each other cause then you'd get it)

Group's Reaction

the only reaction that matter's is Tyler's and you know why. You know why.

Everyone is having a good, grand ol' time laughing at each other being dumb, then there is just Tyler being raked through the mud.

The majority of the group think "yeah, my pictures are bad, but at least I'm not Tyler".

tbf, I also headcanon that Aiden shares a PE class with Tyler so he has more material. Cause exercising is somehow more embarrassing in PE. It doesn't matter how athletic you are, no one looks good when you are struggling not to face plant when doing a wheel barrel because your partner is just hauling ass across the field.

Ashlyn Banner

I need Ashlyn to drag everyone. desperately. In good fun obviously, but it just goes to show how odd everyone really is.

These are teenagers. Even though they are in awful circumstances, they still do stupid teenage shit. This is mainly revealed in the arguments that take place during hang outs and study sessions.

Her presentation is split up by how dumb she considers each conversation. Most of the conversations involve Aiden and Taylor, not because they are dumbasses, though is does play a part, but because they enable each other's dumbassery.

Ben only makes up about a slide... for obvious reasons. Part of him is relieved, but the other part wishes that he could say more to be included.

One of her favorite moments that she put in the presentation is when she overheard Logan having to explain to Aiden that 1.) the North Pole does, in fact, exist and 2.) that it is not the same thing as Antarctica when they were doing pair work in science. It took... painfully long, for the point to reach Aiden. She's not convinced it has. (I had this argument with my friend during senior year...)

^^ The argument gets brought back up because Tyler started shitting on Aiden cause of it.

Another big chunk of the presentation is just when she caught the group baby-talking Logan's cat (he has a cat cause I said so). You'd think it be Taylor, considering her general demeanor, but Tyler's the one who talks to the cat most of the time. And the cat absolutely loves him. The cat is sitting on his lap as we speak.

Logan is a person to play first person shooter games. With mic. Need I say more. (He doesn't say anything bad, but he can shit talk. It's easier since they don't know who he is lmao).

Taylor gets off easy because everything dumb that she says is on purpose. She is absolutely the person to just go with the bit, so everything she says just goes with the flow of the group. What's that? It's because Ashlyn has more of a soft spot for Taylor! What, no! I don't know what you are talking about, Aiden. Such accusations. (he is 100% correct)

Group Reaction:

Since the presentation was pretty balanced with who got made fun of, excluding Ben (ToT), everyone's having a pretty good time.

Since Ben barely had anything in the presentation, Logan had the bright idea to scroll through this guys social media posts. Mainly twitter. He struck gold at the expense of Ben.

Regarding cat point in the presentation, Ashlyn had some videos as proof. Is Tyler embarrassed? Yes. Can he do anything about it? No, he has the cat on his lap.

[lalalian]

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask you a question about the dragon rider DR, as I am planning to shift there. Is music distributed in any way like TV shows and movies are, or is it only played live? If it's distributed, then how?

hihi!

Music does exist through streaming-like services, but portable services are very new-- like they came about around a year before you shift here. They're originally made in Aielles, but recently the same bureauship (bureauship=company) who made the devices partnered with another bureauship (creating the Philharmonic Revival Consortium) in the Eudora Empire to sell their goods here; the largest store for their goods is located in Itresal because riders are one of their biggest demographics due to our abilities to charge these streaming devices ourselves.

This is the most recent model; it's called a StarSee, this is the second generation model

enjoy my horrendous art skills... I haven't drawn seriously in like 6 yrs, so I hope it's cohesive enough to be understandable!

Some things I forgot to include in the last photo:

the little earbuds are called starlings

The decorative plating on the outside can also be bought at the shop in Itresal, but some manufacturers have been making their own plating

There are currently three different color versions, gold (the original), purple, and silver-- they are working to expand their color range

These are about 5x5 cm big

You can put them on your bag like a keychain!

Lots of people customize them by gluing little gems on the outside

If you're worried about getting the outside part scratched or damaged, you can get charm add-ons; currently, water resistance, scratch resistance, and retention (parts shake less within the device) are on the market; activate these charms by placing them in the stardrop hole (more on that later) and saving it to the device

there is a little magiactivated luminescent crystal embedded into the part where you attach the removable plating-- those are the things that will glow red

You can get your starlings modified so that it glows a different color when it's low on battery

The voice is currently only available in the common tongue (English) and the noble tongue (Eoldan); in Aielles, the common tongue is most widely spoken, oftentimes, nobles in Aielles do not speak Eoldan fluently unless they pursue learning the language further

how do i add songs to my device?

Stardrops are (kinda) one use, you cannot use it on another starsee, even if you own two of them. If you do remove a song from a starsee, you can reuse that stardrop by either placing it into a diff starsee or reusing it with your current starsee.

Some things I forgot to include in the photos:

this little screen is like indented, so the screen isn’t touching the wall of the device!

songlist=playlist

once you're done putting a song into a songlist, press confirm to go back to the main menu

to conserve energy, the screen will automatically turn off after 3 minutes if no activity occurs (like if you aren't actively scrolling or clicking on things); the screen also turns off immediately when the screen is hidden in the device

energy + conclusion

Similar to airpods, you've gotta charge your starsee! To charge it, you have to take the stardrop out and either place a stardrop mana crystal in it's dedicated space, or have the device placed on a charged mana crystal. Make sure you keep the glass lid open if the you're charging it with mana crystals!

BUT

If you're a rider, you can charge it with your own mana, just make sure you either charge a mana crystal yourself or charge the starsee directly slowly (OR if you've been charging it yourself for long enough, you can quickly infuse the right amount of mana into the device)-- overloading the device with mana can cause the mana crystals inside of the device to expand too much... effectively breaking the starsee. There is no way to see how much battery a starsee currently has, though, this issue has been noted by the bureauship-- expect to see this problem fixed in the next starsee generation!

Starlings themselves have a listening time of 8 hrs. Starsees can recharge starlings back to their full capacity twice without being charged, but if you did try to charge your starlings thrice without charging your starsee, you'd only be able to charge your starlings halfway.

Most civilians will simply charge their devices at with a communal mana crystal. Sometimes families will buy one for their household; the more expensive it is, the longer it lasts. If you cannot afford a mana crystal, you can charge it in a library at the study desks, in dedicated mana blocks-- buildings that are full of lockers with mana crystals in them (these places are heavily monitored and regulated to prevent stealing and crime!!), and other super public places like cafes and such. People will store their smaller magitech goods in mana blocks overnight to use their product the next day.

As a rider-- as an S-tier rider-- you won't have to worry about not having enough mana to spare to charge your device. A lot of riders will have a mana absorbent crystal keychain on their bag. Honestly, I recommend just getting a stardrop mana crystal (one without a song in it! Most places that sell stardrops will sell empty stardrops), charge the crystal every night (it only takes a few seconds for a rider of your caliber to charge it enough), and placing the stardrop back inside the starsee. You can close the glass lid if you do this too. If you don't want to keep removing the stardrop from the device, touching the crystal with your finger can help you focus your mana directly into the stardrop. It's ok if you overcharge the crystal itself; the starsee will only take what it needs.

-

-

-

yeah, it's a little clunky, but remember that magitech emerged sometime in the last few decades! It's a recent invention, so not everything is super advanced yet 😭

[guide-to-world-domination]

I can’t stop imagining spider becoming an absolute badass, like the amount of ideas literally keep me up at night. For example, imagine that one day, Neytiri just goes off on Spider and says the most foul things to him - stuff that was so horrendous, even people who equally hated Spider being around had to try and calm her down, because what she was saying was completely out of line. To spider, he’s heard this all from the People, the Scientists, the McCoskers - but Neytiri always strikes a cord that can’t be fixed or shrugged off easily. The only thing that snaps him from his thoughts, was what Neytiri said next while she was being pulled away from the situation.

“You will never be One of the People. Your father is a Demon, and your mother is worse for ever loving him and producing such Spawn”

There it is the breaking point. Spider has always turned the other cheek when it comes to people that insult him or insult him by comparing him to his father. He always found that retaliation and tantrums only proved his accusers assumptions correct. But nobody. Nobody insults his mother. Spider could have screamed back and shouted bloody murder at her, but at this point, he just doesn’t care. She isn’t worth trying to prove himself to. His siblings know who he is, that’s enough.

From that day on, he doesn’t go to High Camp again and doesn’t wear his loincloth. He starts wearing cargo pants and tank tops, but he keeps his armbands, knife and jewellery. He wants to come into his own identity, but he can’t shed what remains of his past life (trying to be part of the Omaticaya). Personally, I don’t think that Norm and the other Scientists wouldn’t care too much about what spider does until he crosses a line or breaks a rule that they haven’t outright told him (that kind of behaviour is traumatising, I would know 🙂). So when figures out to give himself piercings and tattoos, they are livid. They are shocked at the transformation - where painted blue stripes used to be, there were inky black stripes that passed over every limb and even on his face; where dirty brown locs used to be, golden blond hair was fashioned into a Viking braid reaching down his back (similar to a kuru).

The only person that understands and doesn’t overreact is Max. Personally, that man was a dark horse in his family before he came to Pandora, I know it in my soul (Headcanon coming soon or after this post). He takes it on himself to support Spider and nurture his clear talents. He wishes he could have raised spider as his own, but knew that he would be shunned by his colleagues for raising his son - he couldn’t be seen as a disgrace after his time as a child.

Spider had a number of talents and skills, including Engineering, Chemistry, Languages, Marksmanship and martial arts. Max helped to nurture each and everyone. Some days, he would have Spider build and repair weapons and tech. Other days, Spider would learn chemical reactions or a new language. Every evening, Max would instruct Spider in combat and would exercise and lift with him to encourage him. Over the course of a month or two, Spider was unrecognisable. He took in information like a sponge and soon Max was running out of things to teach him. Piloting Samsons and Scorpions - took a few tries, but Spider was truly a born pilot like Paz. Stealth and parkour - He was already a natural, but he was fooling Na’vi warriors more often than not after a week of practice.

Eventually, when Jake started performing raids on RDA Trains, Spider knew it was time to put this all into practice. You see, deep down, he still wanted to prove himself to the People, but not so he could be one of them. He wanted to prove himself, to show them what he forged himself into despite them. However, he knew Jake would never approve him going along - he was still a child. The thought to Spider was ludicrous; Spider never believed he was a child, because no child goes through what he did and remains a child. So he decides to go anyway and doesn’t bother with permission. Though, he does ask Max, who understandably forbids this from happening. After reasoning that he would be safer if he got support to complete this venture, Max relented after hours of back and forth.

And thus, Araña was born. Imagine Winter Soldier getup (Hydra-controlled Bucky, not White Wolf armour) where the half mask acts as his rebreather so he doesn’t risk glass from a regular mask entering his eyes. All manners of weapons are strapped to his body including an Assault Rifle, a revolver (nobody knows that it was actually Quaritch’s revolver that delivered the fatal shot to Grace), A bow and quiver, a LOT of knives and a grenade or two. He looks terrifying but despite this Max feels proud - not about his boy going to fight in a war that has devastated everything he loves, but because this kid, his son, has stepped into his role as a defender and Max is proud of how far Spider has come to reach his goals.

Queue Spider being the biggest menace to RDA society that has ever existed. There was no reason for the Na’vi Ground forces to blow up the rail line, because Spider had already hijacked the train and pulled the breaks. The look of an anonymous Sky Person swing around the train killing and disarming grown men confused everyone in the raiding party, especially the Sully’s. There was something familiar about the acrobatics of this mysterious warrior, the answer on the tips of their tongues. It was only after Spider saved Lo’ak and Neteyam from the missile strike, that everyone realised who this person was. Nobody believed it until Spider spoke and then all he’ll broke loose.

I apologise if this too long or weird, I just needed to get this out of my head. I’ll definitely be adding to this given time, regardless of whether or not people like it, and the only thing that can stop me is my undiagnosed AuDHD.

Farewell to all, Yours sincerely,

Your Favourite Evil Overlord

[einsatzzz]

For the weirdly specific artist ask game, can you answer 3, 4, and 14 ❤️

Heewwwooo Butter!!! Thank you for sending this, yipeee!!! 🥳🥳💖✨ I rambled too much with #3 (What ideas come from when you were little), I'm putting it last.

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

I already answered this here, but I'll give you another. Lum/ine, Ae/ther, Ei, Xi/ao, Wan/derer and any of my other faves from any Mi/hoyo game that I play, because goddamn! Just look at their outfits! Back when I was still drawing fanarts for Gen/shin, I will die every time just from drawing the details of their clothing. But I was too down horrendous for Lu/mine to just give up on drawing her. So when I switched to drawing Sp/yFam fanarts right after, my art braincells are just "Thank God, this evil Gen/shin obsession has been defeated".

Not gonna lie, with them releasing Oro/ron and Sun/day so close to each other, I'm starting to feel the urge to draw them again...wtf djfbjsd Anyway, if anyone drawing Gen/shin fanart (specifically) comes across this by any chance, here's a lifesaver reference site that I used for their outfits. It made the experience slightly less painful.

14. Any favorite motifs

Motifs where there are opposites of light/darkness and sun/moon, but not exactly presented in a black/white way where you know from a glance which is the absolute good and which is the absolute evil. It's more of like ying yang, where there's "complementary and at the same time opposing forces" or that "in kindness, there's evil; in evil, there's kindness". I believe the gray blur where each of these sides converge is the best place ever to explore in fiction.

3. What ideas come from when you were little

The concept itself of making a comic! When I was around...I guess around 4th to 5th grade? Around ten years old or less? I remember drawing this comic of an original story I had back then. I think the setting is something like a historical drama in Ko/rea.

That's because even in the late 2000's and early 2010s, kd/ramas were popping off so hard in PH, almost every adult I knew were watching them. It would always play in the background whenever I'm doing homework or when my mother is tutoring me. The titles I can remember were Je/wel in the Pa/lace and Queen Se/ondok (<-OK I GOTTA CONFESS THIS ONE CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY).

Anyway, my younger self got so into this original comic story, I probably ended up drawing up to like half a ream of papers? sdjfbjshvfshd It's all traditional drawings with short bond papers with just a shitty ballpoint black pen. I was ten years old(?), so it definitely looked not so good. It's a secret project so I'm the only one who knows about it and I also hid it under our cabinet like it's some lemon fanfic hahaha (it's more action, tragedy with a bit of romance) I think it's because of that bit of romance that I hid it out of embarrassment, also the papers were actually supposed to be for when we need to print something for school projects, so I think I thought I was gonna get scolded for "wasting" them. I'm not about risk myself getting whooped with either a slipper, belt or broom bro 💀💀💀

I think what happened after that is for when your art perception improves but ur art skills can't catch-up, so I kind of had an art block and wasn't satisfied with it anymore. Then I ripped the pages and threw the entire thing away dsjvfhdsfvshdf 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I wish I didn't 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I have no start point to compare my current art with anymore and I can't even remember the story or the OCs that I had in there anymore.

Anyway, I'm making up for it now by making comics seriously fr fr and I won't be deleting it even if a ten-wheeler art block truck hits me and runs me over.

This question made me look through the oldest fandom account I can remember, for possible old arts and it's actually so funny/embarrassing how passive-aggressive 14 year old me is. Someone commented "I don't like this ship! This character is only mine!" on a rarepair ship fanart I showed to the group and 14-year old me replied "I understand your feelings, but you're not his only fan so keep that to yourself next time ^_^" ajvfsghdcghsdcds other interactions are also full of haterism energy it makes me go GHURL STOP!!! 😭😭😭😭 THAT'S SO MEAN!!! This 14 year old is a wholeass different person, who does this bitch think they are?!

[junoverses]

I'm generally not very keyed into a lot of mainstream pop culture, specifically hip-hop and rap in this instance, mostly because i feel fairly removed since a lot of the time I just don't vibe with a lot of the more popular music, but the Kendrick-Drake beef really started to pique my interest. Not just in terms of the drama/spectacle, (which I usually just completely ignore most of the time when it comes to literally anything else) and it is admittedly very captivating in a sense, but it's also lit a sort of fire under my ass to maybe broaden my music taste because ever since Like That came out and tons of people talked about Kendrick's feature on it, I've been very intently listening to the tracks he's been putting out and all of them have been very good in their own ways.

I've had a lot of respect for Kendrick as an artist before as someone who didn't listen to his music, but still understood how impactful and how skilled he was technically, how he talked about his life experiences and how he communicated them and reflected on himself through his songs. And this also just generally extends to genres of music like rap or hip-hop, where just because it's popular and the popular stuff can give off a bad impression, it's obviously never a good idea to write off an entire section of an art form just because of a small amount of works that may leave a bad taste in your mouth, because it's still art. It's still an outlet for people to express themselves, to talk about important topics while also being enjoyable to experience for an audience and have it be also be able to spread and resonate with people.

All this to say, while it's very much not the main point of all these diss tracks, I'm very happy that they could act as a sort of personal catalyst to maybe listen to something else besides the same few rock songs and video game osts for once in my life, because there's so much other good stuff out there that you could miss out on because you're too stubborn to break away from the one playlist you have.

Also, while this wasn't what this post was specifically about, it's still important to keep in mind that while it's very entertaining, it's not purely a spectacle and the things being said are very heavy and serious, (like Drake being a fucking creep) and while obviously this is music being released to the public for people to listen to and enjoy, the accusations levied shouldn't be ignored for the sake of personal enjoyment, but I think that's obvious.

P.S.

Fuck Drake, part of me does kind of hope Kendrick keeps releasing more stuff about this purely because of how funny it'd be for him to just keep going off while Drake just handles these responses horrendously

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Would it be possible for a regeneration to go so horribly wrong that it would leave the person regenerating essentially human? Say, if your gallifreyan were in an extremely psychologically traumatic stiuation and then died an extremely physically and psychologically traumatic death and were already suffering from a deficiency in lindos and artron? (My gallifreyan has a very bad habit of getting themself into horrendously dangerous situations and just barely escaping, and I want to make sure they're safe and don't experience something neither of us are prepared for being a possibility.)

Could a Gallifreyan regenerate into a human?

🌀 The Mechanics of Regeneration

Regeneration is a fundamental part of Gallifreyan biology, allowing a Time Lord to completely transform upon death. However, this process isn't exactly foolproof.

Lindos and Artron Energy: These energies are crucial for a successful regeneration. Lindos energy, in particular, is tied to the lindal gland, which secretes hormones essential for the regeneration process. A deficiency in these energies could theoretically lead to incomplete or faulty regenerations.

Lack of Skill: A lack of skill in handling regeneration could lead to the Gallifreyan regenerating very badly.

Biodata Corruption: In extreme cases, such as significant biodata corruption either before or during regeneration, a Gallifreyan might experience unpredictable changes. This could lead to transformations into non-Gallifreyan forms, including becoming your family dog.

🧠 Psychological and Physical Trauma

Extreme psychological and physical trauma can significantly impact the regeneration process, potentially leading to:

Atypical Physical Forms: While transforming into a completely different species, such as a human, would be unusual, huge trauma could cause significant deviations from typical Gallifreyan forms. However, they would probably still retain some Gallifreyan biological markers.

Mental and Emotional Effects: Severe trauma might also affect the psychological outcome of the regeneration, potentially resulting in personality or cognitive functions that may appear more 'human-like.'

👤 The Human Question

Becoming human would mean losing key Gallifreyan traits such as enhanced senses, inherent telepathic abilities, and crucially, the capacity for further regeneration. While theoretically possible, such a drastic change would be extraordinarily rare and would likely require unique, specific conditions affecting the fundamental aspects of the Gallifreyan's biodata.

🛡️ Safeguards and Precautions

To mitigate the risks associated with the regeneration process and to avoid unintended drastic transformations, the following precautions could be taken for your Gallifreyan:

Energy Reserves: It is vital to ensure that Gallifreyans maintain adequate levels of Lindos and Artron energy as these are critical for a successful regeneration. Regular monitoring and replenishment through controlled exposure to energy sources can help maintain these levels.

Psychological Readiness: Mental conditioning and psychological training can prepare Gallifreyans for the immense changes that come with regeneration.

Genetic Integrity Checks: Regular assessments of a Gallifreyan’s biodata and genetic integrity can pre-empt potential issues. Advanced diagnostic tools could detect and repair biodata corruption before it becomes a problem during regeneration.

Technical Proficiency in Regeneration Techniques: Training Gallifreyans in the art and science of regeneration could significantly reduce the occurrence of faulty regenerations.

Safe Environment: Ensuring that the environment in which regeneration takes place is stable and safe can aid in a successful transformation. This could mean designated regeneration chambers that provide optimal conditions for change.

🏫 So...

While it’s known for regeneration to significantly alter a Gallifreyan, a complete transformation into a human would stretch the bounds of Gallifreyan biology as understood. Such an event would be an anomaly, but it's certainly not impossible.

Related:

💬|✨4️⃣What are the four factors of regeneration?: How a regenerating Gallifreyan body might determine its next appearance.

💬|✨👽Do Time Lords get dysphoric about their regenerations?: Regeneration dysphoria and what to consider. 

🤔|✨🦁Can a Gallifreyan regeneration result in an animal body?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[annadiplosis]

I’VE HAD THIS BLOG FOR 10 YEARS

Here’s to many more years of fish, vampires, aliens and bird people! To everyone who follows me and/or has praised my art, in any way, at any point, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

I’ll be ranting about art progress and style changes under the cut, but before that, just a reminder that I’m going through a complicated time in my life and if you want to support me and my art there’s a few ways to do so.

Now back to my goofy doodles.

Maybe because I've drawn ever since I can remember, I've never felt a ton of pressure to improve my art skills. It's always been something I knew was going to happen as long as I kept drawing, and that's what I've been doing. I try not to stress too much about staying consistent with my practice or achieving any self-imposed goals. I like to discover what I'm able to do, one drawing at a time.

I also believe progress is not linear, and not every single piece is better than the last. While my 2023 art shows a higher skill level than that of 2013, I think some of my older work looks perfect the way it is. I'm drawn to expressiveness, movement, and compelling characters, and that can be achieved at any level. I've gotten better at some technical aspects, of course; my linework is far more decisive than it was before, and my endless battle with color palettes gets easier every day. I'm also capable of unwillingly drawing the crappiest, most horrendous doodle you've ever seen, just as I was in 2013. Just as we all are. I'm not sure why I find that reassuring, but I do.

When I started this blog, what really worried me was developing a distinct style. I studied other artists and stole specific elements of their work, sometimes drawing and redrawing the exact same thing until I was satisfied with the result. At some point, and I can't exactly tell you when or why, I stopped caring about that. It's not that I thought I'd found My Perfect Style, because that doesn't exist. I guess I started focusing on other stuff, and that's when my actual style started coming together. I followed my instincts, tried to strike a balance between what came naturally to me and what I was envisioning every particular piece to look like, and it worked. Any alteration my style has gone through since then has been unplanned and intuitive, and I can't see myself approaching art in any other way. I'm excited to discover what kind of artist I'll be in ten more years.

Thanks for reading this far! Warm regards from me and every notebook I've used since opening this blog (#9 to #37 in my overall archive) ♡

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Hewwooo it's been awhile since I sent one!

... there's been a scary amount of rodent questions and scenarios of late...

But anyway! I've had stockpiled like 20 or so questions about SK bois, but 3 for now

1. Let's say the torture basement gets really bloody (Sun went feral), are there any special chemicals Sun would use to clean up all the blood? I would hope that water and soap are enough to do the job, but sometimes that doesn't fully remove the traces that can be found through luminol. Would he get his hands on some Hydrogen Peroxide to 'dissolve' the traces of blood?

2. Would Sun have any access to the past hospital records of the children that visit the library?

3. A moon question moon question.... This is very trigger worthy in my opinion. Would there be any days where, before Moon picks a tool to torture with, he just ditches the knives and goes for something horrendously blunt. Just to make the pain more agonizing for the Rulebreaker. The constant sawing back and forth into the flesh just to 'cut' it. Bonus points if the knife is coated in lemon juice or hot sauce before 'cutting'

Apologies that most of my questions tend to be pretty morbid to imagine about..

Also, I'm ashamed of myself that I didn't recognise your name much much earlier, considering that YOU'RE ONE OF THE ARTISTS TO DO DJ PARANOID'S COVER ART ON HIS SONGS! Great art for his 'Use me up' songs...I need to go check which else you have drawn for him..

Anyway, thank you for answering this if you do. I hope you will have a day you will enjoy (whenever you see this)

hello again!

1~ Yeah they keep cleaning supplies stocked for if things get messy. Soap, water, hydro perox, vinegar. It's why Moon wears a black cloak and Sun a black leather apron, the stains are harder to see. Even if the likelihood of someone entering the bunker is slim, they are still careful about leaving any evidence behind.

2~ And both Sun and Moon would. They have computers in their heads, so all it takes is a simple hack to get into the hospital records of some children.

3~ While Moon primarily uses knives to torture, he does use other tools at his disposal. Scalpels, saws, crowbars, bats, etc. Sun is skilled with axes and hatchets.

and yes, I am! It was super fun doing the art for that song! Such a bop >w< Thank you!

[unicornachos]

Just some life updates & long ass random journalling

Saw multiple posts across social media over the break about ppl who need their routine and I'm the complete opposite. Truly thrive without routine. Never get bored. A++ marks in chilling skills. Could chill for the rest of my life and never need to go back to a routine

There's so much to do in life that's not work... I don't even think about work when I'm on leave bc I instantly enter my little world of food and books and art and films and fandom and watching video game playthroughs and nature appreciation (what I can get these days anyway given my severe mobility limitations bc of chronic pain). It's so easy to drift away from the real world and coming back is jarring and hard and a bit depressing :(

My therapy to better manage unhelpful thoughts over the past 2 years seems to be working tho bc I pulled myself out of my spiral today by journalling about it 🤙🏻 That was easier than usual bc I was in contract hell for the past 1.5 yrs, but last month I had to go through a deeply horrendous & stressful process of re-applying & re-interviewing for my own job to be made permanent (govt job bullshittery) that I had no guarantee of getting. But I got it and now I'll get a pay rise! It's scary bc more responsibility and more work which is not great for my attempts at recovery. But at the same time permanent job means I can have some sense of financial security, which is HUGE for me given all my health troubles and my uncertain future. I have no idea if I'll ever get better and so any sense of certainty I can have in anything in my life feels like a lifeline.

Oh speaking of therapy. I'm gonna try working with a new lady this year (in addition to reg psych) who is not a psych or medical professional but does pain reprocessing therapy. It doesn't sound very legit but I had a quick meeting with her a few weeks ago and we bonded over the uselessness of the medical system and she seems calm and someone who will listen to me and adjust based on what she thinks might work best for me. Idk if it will work or whether I'll be disciplined enough or capable of forging any new neural pathways away from the pain ones, seeing we still think I could have nerve damage or some other weird shit going on that we don't understand causing the pain, but I'm gonna give it a go 💪🏻 I'm gonna book regular appointments with her (while still trying to work a busy full-time job sighs) for a few months and just see what she's like to work with. I have nothing to lose by trying!

Other than that... What else. I made art last year despite it being a really hard year of stress and stagnation with my health. I got obsessed with JayVik. I started reading Realm of the Elderlings and I'm even More obsessed with that and 11 books in and liveblogging it all over at @unicornachos2. I made a Bluesky for my personal acct (unicornachos as usual) and one for my art (lesovyart also as usual).

I made a spoonie group chat which gives me a lot of support but also gives me the satisfaction of being able to support others, too. I stopped trying to reach out to a lot of people in my old city who don't reach out to me nor seem to care about keeping me safe. I celebrated my 30th birthday in October with people who respect my need to protect mine (and each other's) health, who were willing to isolate before visiting or mask during.

I made new work friends and even though some of them are leaving bc of the upheaval with our roles I think I'll still stay in contact with them a lot. And they all respect my need to keep safe from covid and other stuff too. Some of them came to visit me in winter for an outdoor picnic in my suburb and they brought me vegan pastries :')

I have really sad days where the loss of my mobility and personal freedom makes me cry in honestly bottomless grief. I get a horrible aching in my chest if I think about it all too much. They don't come as often as they used to bc I have a lot going on in my life and I have good things to distract me, but the grief and uncertainty for my future is still there.

I think the grief has made me weirdly less susceptible to other forms of it. Or things that would usually trigger stronger sadness in me now don't. Before I'd tear up at the slightest sad thing- in life, in a tv show, movie, whatever. We lost a family friend this year and I didn't shed a tear, and I know I usually would have. I've always fully felt my emotions, processed them, let them move through me and out. But it's like... The pain of what I've lost is so monumental that other losses or sadnesses don't feel as... close to me. I feel a slight distance from them. I don't know if I like that because it doesn't feel like me and who I've always been, and been proud of being. But I think my brain is trying to protect me and so I feel... neutral about it I think. It's doing what it has to, to help me get through.

OH and finally, we're switching gears completely LOL, I've decided that I'm gonna buy myself a switch when the new one comes out (supposedly) in March. I can't play PC games anymore bc I have to be horizontal 95% of the time, and there's no comfy way to arrange my setup at home to accommodate this. So I've been watching playthroughs of stuff instead. But I think I deserve a reward for getting through last year and getting a permanent job! So I'm gonna get a switch and then I'm gonna play the fuck out of tales of the shire as soon as it comes out and run around foraging mushrooms and baking pies and growing plants etc.

Finally, ig I'll spill everything here bc why not. I've been thinking lately I'd like to try and date but I have NO idea how to make that happen. I feel like my life is so busy and chaotic and uncertain and I can't get anywhere myself and can't travel very far for very long. And my emotional availability is questionable, lol. But I just kinda wish I had A Person™ or A Partner™ to rely on and be interested in and to have a crush on someone again. I miss flirting!!!!! I miss dating!!!!!! I miss going out for drinks in the city and going on walks and going to gigs and queer events... I can't do any of that now. It's been a rly long time since I've had that bc the last few years have been so hard. And my life is so full of... Full-time work and enjoying my hobbies while I can and trying to take care of myself and do my meditations and manage my pain and mental health with zero medications and my completely fucked sleep. And I think about where my symptoms are at and I have no idea if they'll ever get better. At the start of 2024 I got even worse and then just plateaued. But I'd like for things to improve, even slightly, if possible, before I would even feel ok and not guilty with trying to make something like that happen. I've always just felt like I know there's a person out there who's perfect for me and I have a very clear picture of the kind of person that would be, but I have to go out and find them somehow. And I know it'll be hard probably bc I'm so weird and particular. And I wonder if an able-bodied person would become frustrated with how little options I have for where I can go and what I can do, but I don't see how I could go on dates unless I did date someone who can physically do all those things. It also doesn't help that I'm extremely picky lmfao. So ig I'll just keep it in the back of my mind for now and see how the next few months go.

That's my brain dump into the ether of Tumblr for the night!!!!!!!! I have my first day back at work tmrw but I don't regret staying up and writing all this out tbh

[gunophilia]

Hello, before I get too far into it, I'm just going to give my main point right away:

I get it.

Writing is hard. Art in general is hard, but in my experience, finding the motivation to continue a story is one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Trying to find the words to explain it is difficult, ironically, how do you really explain the overwhelming want to do only to loss all motivation the second you actually try? It's not that I don't want to write, I absolutely do, and I have all these stories and plots and ideas inside my head but the second I try and put pen to paper it feels impossible.

I guess I'll compare it to something else, albeit in a similar field. When I was younger, I loved to dry. Every moment of freetime I got in elementary school was dedicated to doodling all over my worksheets and notebook paper. And I was terrible at it, absolutely horrendous, but the best part was that I didn't care. I liked drawing, it never mattered to me how good it was. Until someday it did, and I realized that my skill level didn't match my standards, so I stopped. And every time afterward, when I would draw, no matter if it was a doodle in the corner or I tried to sit down and focus, I always gave up because it felt pointless. I'd lost my motivation, and so I gave up for years and I felt disappointed in myself. The same sort of thing happened with writing, one day I realized I wasn't happy with what I was doing because it felt armature.

At some point, about almost a year ago, I decided completely out of the blue that I wanted to try drawing again, so I bought a tablet to make sure I had to commit and couldn't give up like all the other times, I had a sit down with myself, and I asked this question:

What do I want out of my art?

And the answer was simple, to just enjoy doing it. So that was my goal, not to get better, but to just rediscover the joy thay drawing brought me. It definitely took a while, until I was able to look at other pieces of artwork and see things I liked and wanted to do myself rather than to compare myself to them. After a while I was drawing for myself, just to have fun, and I didn't care if it was good or skillful, all that was important was that I liked it and that was enough.

I still struggle with writing, I have a storyline that I want to follow but it's still just so hard to find the motivation, and I've decided that yes, one day it is going to happen, but it doesn't need to be today, so even just writing a silly little side story or even just a couple sentences of notes is enough for now, because it's still something.

Anyways this got away from me and I think the message for lost, so I guess I'll just put it plainly here, art is hard, and even if you love doing it that sometimes actually doing it seems impossible, especially if you feel like it's something you have to do over wanting to do it.

Sorry for the essay, but I'm feeling sappy tonight and a post of yours reminded me of my own journey.

I hope this was helpful, and if not, then I'm so sorry and please feel absolutely free to ignore this.

Have a good one, and I hope writing is something you can enjoy doing just for the sake of doing it. <3

are you me from an alternate universe? (jk) your story is very similar to what I've been going through. sometimes I get a spark of inspiration, but that by itself is not enough to get me to actually sit down and do the work. I sit down, realize how much time/effort will need to be put in, and give up before I start. it really sucks. i feel like i cant/shouldn't work on anything unless it can be finished in one sitting.

[moonrainbowfish]

it’s me again ahaha here’s my request:

🎂 may i get a romantic matchup for lotr? i’m clara, my pronouns are she/her and i’m straight. i would say the 5 emojis that describe my aesthetic are: 🌧⚽️📖🎬🕊 if that makes sense. i have dark hair that goes past my shoulders with grey eyes, i’m 171 cm, skinny, and athletic (i love football and swimming!) i’m a night owl that stays up way too often with a lot on my shoulders. i would say i’m an extrovert and i have good social skills but i sometimes struggle in making friends and i am a horrendous at texting back which is probably why. my love language would be spending quality time with them, i like to think i’m fun to be around, and hugs are very much appreciated! i’m very assertive, ambitious and a hard worker and people would say i’m pretty intelligent. i like to read, with a preference for classic literature, go to the movies, drawing, sometimes writing when i can. the library is my safe haven :) i have no patience for ignorance and bs, i want people to be direct when speaking to me, and i can be harsh and unforgiving towards people that messed up badly. despite that, i’m also sensitive, it’s really easy for me to cry whether it’s because a story touched me or i felt pity thinking about someone/something and that embarrasses me. that’s it, have a good day/night, and thank you! again, totally fine if you don’t want to do this! <3

Thank you so much for the matchup! I tried to make yours a bit longer than a mini matchup, but it's still kinda short.

Your romantic matchup is:

Elrond

You two just go hand in hand together. No matter where you go, you'll always have eachother

Elrond appreciates it very much how interested you're in the linguistic arts and he provides you with your very own little library in Rivendell. Including all the books your heart desires

You're gonna spend hours together discussing over what exciting things you've read or learned, often while he holds you in his arms

Given that he's the lord of Rivendell, you can be certain he's going to spoil you and make sure all your needs are met and your safe and sound

He's wise but also has a caring side, which really shines through when he's with you. He'll be your shoulder to cry on, and he'll always lift you up when you're feeling hopeless

[evelyne-am]

13th March 2023.

Hi folks. I’m going to have to make this really short. It’s been a long time that I have felt that something new is coming upon me. I love music to death and it is most certainly my life’s Destiny but ever since I left Boston I was searching for something to dream about. My work as a musician is beautiful and fulfilling and incredible but it was my reality, it was no longer something I imagined in a mirror as a dream. And over the years when I couldn’t find solace in music sometimes because it was my everyday job, I found it in stories. Especially in the pandemic I would stay up till 6 am every night watching shows and films reading about actors and analysing what I was feeling when I watched things happen. A part of me thinks that I finally found something that I loved as much as music, or probably in a very different way. Another part of me was frustrated with the way society had instantly cancelled my career and my industry the second the pandemic hit as if we were dispensable, we were not essential goods so our services could be instantly paused and we could go to hell, I thought about quitting music completely and all forms of arts and doing something else. But one day without any expectations of actually doing anything I Tried to get into some classes in acting, most of them were full, the one I wanted to at SPARDHA esp, so I Enrolled in my second choice, partially because the music industry was shut in a pandemic and partially because I was curious. In all honesty I didn’t enjoy it. theatre is deep and intellectual, and unlike the music that I listen to, the films and TV that I watch are less on that side, and more about common life, common folk. At one point I quit the program and the play we were doing because I was called into Coke Studio and tho i regretted not finishing the program I was okay with leaving the course and returning to the music industry which had just opened up again. In the process of the last one and a half years I have full fledged come back to work and been doing music with my band, my choir, and even remotely. But I had a little inkling, that I tried something and I never went through. I kept my interest in going to a few plays though, but only that of SparDHA, whom I felt were the brilliant ones in this country.

While working on BONOBIBI in Coke Studio, members of SPARDHA were involved and my Choir and I were in awe (they did the bonobibi part choreo) and I thought wow how amazing thoughtful artistic and professional are these people?

In Jan I was called into a meeting to ask if I were interested in doing an acting project/musical (more on that later) and it sparked my old head again. Then later In February I was supposed to go to Los Angeles to attend the Grammy awards, and for multiple reasons including my getting Covid I did not go last minute. I wont deny that incident wasn’t hard, but there was something inside me that knew there was something more to me not going to Los Angeles.. That is when I found SPARDHA starting their classes again, and without hesitation I don’t know why I just jumped in. Just fresh out of Covid I was doing one or two shows again and it was the day of Coke Studio launch, I am dressed up from head to toe just performed in front of 10,000 people for the first time in many years, when I went to give my audition for the workshop.

The traffic on that day was horrendous and I took a bike and 2 rickshaw and walked from the craziest place of this university in the middle of the highway to the Audition..I was bursting in adrenaline, it was showing on my face. And when my audition was happening I was asked are you interested in theatre, I said no. I said I’m here to learn a skill, I’m here to grow myself as a performer but theatre is not what I want to do. I was told that even if I didn’t do theatre, the course that I was doing was gruelling and tough and was about theatre, there was no room for anyone who came with ego or other forms of preconceived notions even for actors who are doing this. I was asked if I could do the work. I said 100%, work is something that I can do. I was told that this workshop is essentially for people who will be in their next production so they will not be encouraging me to take this course and take it at a later time when it is directed towards acting only and not theatre. It was Valentine’s Day, those who saw me after knew that I was actually enjoying the fact that one hour ago I was jumping up and down with university students launching Coke Studio second season, and then I was being sad that something again in this new dream that I had tried to make for myself doesn’t work out. I was sad but specially because I was looking for something new to happen in my life after that all was over and I wanted to run away from the Grammy thing, t(hat’s something I may write about some other day (or in my memoirs maybe,) but I spent my evening actually going through the emotion of the extreme high and the extreme sort of Drop that I felt. I had said canceled going to Singapore, a place where I had lived as a child when my father works there and ever since a lot of things have happened I have been yearning to go there to feel close to my dad, but because of the course dates I had booked myself only to Thailand with friends later instead of doing this introspective Singapore trip, still I told myself it was okay.

The next day I started planning to book up my days again, there was a potential gig, some studio work that I had left to do but before I booked anything I called one of the members of the group that I knew from working in Coke Studio with us, and I said when are you going to give us the answers, and he said within a few hours, I said with him how sad I felt that The Audition indicated that once again I would not get a chance in the workshop (this is the same one that I had tried for in 2021 and did not get in.) he doesn’t so much just said to wait. Needless to say I got in.

On the first day it was truly gruelling physical work my post covid body could not take it. I came home and collapsed, the second day I pushed again and I got dizzy and almost fell in class. That’s when I had to reveal to one of the facilitators that I am fairly out of Covid, and that I would take steroids

(How I had gotten through my Brac students gig during my Covid.) to come back to class the next day. She told me, try boiled eggs and Saline, and my doctor actually said the same thing and my friend Doctor suggested juice. On day three I went fully prepared boiled eggs juice a line, the works. And when I was in class I was in that bloody class. Strangely taking the workshop healed my Covid somehow, it had been weeks that I was able to exert physical strength but when I was there there was nothing that was just me giving my hundred percent. Physically was not the issue at all, it was the mental part. I am a phone addict, my attention span is horrible, I am restless. but I wrote to my sister: those five hours a day that I didn’t have access to my phone, made me so clear about so many things that I’m always struggling with. Like decisions and emotions. I Ended the course on top of the world, almost yearning for more but felt really grateful that in the middle of so many theatre people (on the last day they were asked who felt what kind of difference in the acting in the workshop, and I was the only one who said I don’t have an answer because I’ve never done it before.) That I got to learn something even in its basics even knowing that I just learnt the list of things that I don’t know. I was off to Thailand and feeling really centred when I found out that Sir was going to do one more workshop on voice and speech. And I thought well if I did that there would be aspects of it that I already knew but I was saying to a friend that the way that this incredible teacher has made me feel as a way that I’ve not felt in a long time, I would take a course where he’s teaching to cook rice. Anyway in this course I felt sick again and actually had to go out of the class one day and straight to the doctors. I know the drill, I am s director myself; when I see the weak links I know that they are not going to be the ones that can sustain for long periods of extreme rehearsals, and I was sad that Sir saw me at my post Covid time when I was not 100% and actually i felt he will start to ignore me as the weak link. At the end of this course everyone was discussing new production and how everyone can be involved; in terms of working backstage helping publicity, I assumed that the participants of the actual play were selected. But suddenly I was invited to a conversation talking about if I wanted to do the production. This was 10th March night. The production goes in to 14th March i.e. tomorrow. On 11th March I called the facilitator and I said are you serious are you looking for me to help out with the background score, and she said so he’s going to have a meeting with you tomorrow. I know the schedule; it’s three months of every day, and so I too was feeling all sorts of nerves, and I just started speaking to all my friends are usually take advice from. All my three friends (shawki sharmin and tanmoy) and my sister had nothing else to say but Armeen,yes. (Well my sister calls me Bubu so she said Bubu. Also she said “i dont think u can say no”. Which made me realise ive already said yes.)

That night, the night before I was supposed to have a meeting with Sir to talk about my role, I get an SMS saying you do not need to have said meeting “apni dol ey achen 14th march shokal 8:30 theke rehearsal” (which translates to “ you are in the group.”)

Friends. Don’t know what will happen. If I will last the whole 3 mknths, or a week if I am just singing 2 lines or there to for helping out.. But “ami doley achi” and I’ve opened this new space to document the brilliant Syed Jamil Ahmed and Spardha through my eyes as someone from a blank slate. (Soz that was not short :P )