#whoops i ripped the page

[teenwolf-incorrectquotes]

FBI Agent: Stilinski, the suspect is all yours. Stiles: Hey, Gerard! Derek said when I caught you I should read you this letter. Stiles: "I wanna lick the skin off your body, baby"--- whoops, that side's for me. Stiles: [flips the page around] Here we go. "I wanna rip the skin off your body, Argent."

[nhaomhi]

˙✧˖° Trouble Meets Perfection 𝄞 ⋆｡˚

pairing: troublemaker!riki x classprez!yn

synopsis: at decelis academy, Nishimura Riki is the name every single teacher sighs at—a relentless troublemaker with a smirk always plastered on his face. Y/N, the no-nonsense class president, is the complete opposite: disciplined, sharp-tongued, and utterly intolerant of Riki’s constant chaos. The two share one thing—an undeniable hatred for each other that electrifies every classroom they’re in together.

genre: enemies-to-lovers, angst if you squint hard, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff

warnings: mild language, mentions of stress/pressure, mentions of insecurity, use of petnames

word count: 2.7k

naomi’s note: kind of inspired by that song “not another song about love” by hollywood ending 😭 I DONT KNOW IF ANYONE ELSE IS FAMILAR W THAT SONG BUT it was pretty popular as a gacha song in like 2020 SHSKDH it gives off enemies to lovers and i feel that riki is perfect for that trope soo 😚😚 this is my first ��long” fic so if it gets boring whoops

.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The first bell rang with the usual obnoxious clang that echoed through the halls, signalling the start of another miserable day. You yawned tiredly, you had just stayed up quite late because you had a lot to do. You adjusted the sleeves of your blazer and for the millionth time, reminded yourself that today would be no different. Another day of leading your class, dealing with ridiculous drama, and most importantly, the chaos led by Nishimura Riki.

The thought alone was enough to make your head throb. It was always like you had to babysit him, that damn headache. You had enough on your plate—endless student council meetings, keeping your grades at the top of the class, making sure every single corner of Decelis was running smoothly, and you were currently planning for the end of the year gala. But Riki was a force that you simply couldn’t ignore.

A sigh escaped your lips as you entered your first class of the day. And there he was.

Nishimura Riki, lounging in the back of the classroom, feet resting on the table in front of him as if he owned the place. His messy hair fell over his eyes, but his smirk was clear as ever, and it was aimed right at you.

“Morning, Prez,” he called, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Good morning, Nishimura.” you replied, your tone stiff. You ignored the thing your stomach did at the sound of his voice (probably organ failure) You were not going to let him under your skin, not today. You were too tired.

You made your way to the front of the room and soon started taking attendance. When you called Riki’s name, he stood up and bowed sarcastically. You heard snickers across the room before you rolled your eyes faintly “Sit down, Riki.” you said firmly. He sighed in an exasperated manner before obeying and sitting down, putting his head down.

The teacher arrived soon after and class began, but it wasn’t long before his attention shifted back to you. He scribbled something in his notebook, ripped the page out, and, without warning, threw it at her desk toward her. It landed softly on your desk, a direct hit.

You didn’t flinch, already used to his antics. You picked the note up, unbothered, unfolded it, and read it out loud. “Nice hair. Hope it doesn’t get caught in your books”? A laugh spread across the room, though your expression remained the same. “Very funny, Riki. You’ve seriously outdone yourself this time.” you said unamused in a flat tone.

His eyes gleamed with mischief, clearly pleased by your reaction. “Maybe next time I’ll write you a poem. What do you think, Prez?”

“Maybe you should focus on your own grades before trying to write poetry for me.” You shot back, your voice sharp.

The class erupted into small giggles and chuckles. Riki’s smirked faltered just slightly, but only for a second before he responded. “Touché.”

You turned back to the front of the class, satisfied with even just that small falter. You ignored him the rest of the period, but as always, he wasn’t one to let things slide easily. Throughout the lesson, you could feel his eyes on you, glaring at you. The almost palpable tension between you buzzed in the air, thick and suffocating, like static before the storm.

Lunchtime soon came with its usual bustle of students flooding the cafeteria. You were in the lunch line, waiting to get your tray of food, but the chatter around you did nothing to calm your nerves.

And then, of course, he walked in.

Riki strode past you, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, his friends trailing behind him like little puppies. He leaned casually on the railing next to you, leaning closer, close enough for you to feel his breath faintly on your neck.

“You know, Prez,” he said, his voice low but loud enough for you to hear, “you need to loosen up a bit. Did you know that stress is bad for you?”

You refused to turn to look at him. “And you should spend less time bothering me and more time actually trying to pass your classes.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, clearly amused. “I pass enough.”

That tension was there again, that impossible-to-ignore electricity. You clenched your jaw slightly, muttering quietly under your breath “How are you even still in this school?”

He let out a low chuckle. “Guess I have my charm.” His fingers brushed against the edge of your shoulder, and for a split second, you didn’t know why, but your breath hitched. But you composed yourself and refused to let him get the satisfaction of seeing how much that affected you.

But Riki wasn’t done, of course.

“By the way,” he continued, his voice suddenly softer, more casual. “You’ve been looking exhausted and stressed lately. Maybe you need a break.” He leaned in even closer, his face hovering right next to yours, and whispered, “Let me know if you need a real distraction. A stress reliever, if you may call it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his implication. You fought the urge to turn around and ki—no, slap the smirk right off of his face. Instead, you step away from him, glaring at him. “Do yourself a favor, Riki, and stay away from me. I have enough to deal with.” With that, you walked out the line, deciding to skip lunch and go straight to your next class.

He just watched you walk away, his smirk never fading. “Sure thing, Prez. But you’ll come around eventually!” he calls out.

The days that followed were filled with the same old back-and-forth insults, teasing, and that ever present tension. You stopped trying to understand why he kept pushing your buttons long ago. He wasn’t just a troublemaker, he was a literal maniac—and the fact that he seemed to enjoy the conflict between you only made it worse.

But, somewhere in the middle of all of the arguments, something started to shift. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but you began to notice the small things. How he would defend you when someone made a rude comment about you. How he would show up to general meetings on time if it actually mattered, even if it was just to prove he could. You found yourself thinking, just for a second—that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

After a particularly stressful day when you had decided to stay back late to finish up some work, you were walking to the classroom when you heard noises from around the corner.

Riki was there, leaning against the wall, his face shadowed by the dim lights of the hallway.

“Hey, Prez,” he said quietly, his usual bravado gone. “You look like you need a break. You’ve been working your ass off, huh?”

You blinked, confused by the tone in his voice. “Huh? What’s your deal?”

He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I know you hate my guts, but I also know you’re under a lot of pressure. The expectations, everything. It sucks.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact he was actually being serious. He was talking about pressure? The same boy who always acted like he didn’t have a care in the world?

But there it was—an honest, real moment. No games. No snark.

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, your voice softer than intended. “but I don’t need your need your sympathy, okay?” it sounded a bit harsh, but you pushed that thought back.

Riki’s lips curled into a small, faint smile. Though a genuine one. “Not sympathy, just a reminder. You aren’t alone. If you want to talk.. I’m here. I may not be the best at comforting, but I can listen. For you.”

Your demeanor softened slightly at his words, your guard lowering just a teensy bit. “You mean that?” you respond quietly. “Promise.” he replied.

From that day forward, things between you shifted, not completely, but they did. The teasing never stopped, but there was something different now. A level of understanding beneath your bickering, a softness buried in the snide remarks. Your dynamic wasn’t about fighting anymore—it was more about finding comfort in eachothers company.

As second semester slowlyyy drew to a close, you realized you no longer hated the sight of him. In fact, it was quite hard to imagine a day without his infuriating presence. Though, you still despise when he touches you. You like it so much, that you hate it. You would never outright admit that to him.

Every student at Decelis was running on empty, cramming for exams and surviving on a diet of caffeine and stress. You, however, had one extra responsibility that was both a blessing and a curse: the school’s end-of-the-year gala. The gala we’d been fundraising for since freshman year, and now we’re seniors.

As class president, you were in charge of organizing almost everything. From the venue, to the decorations, to making sure everyone was on their best behavior. It was a huge task, and you made it your personal mission to make this the most flawless gala yet. But as always, that meant hours upon hours of work.

You spent this entire afternoon in the student council room, trying to confirm with the venue, decorations, and all of that. It was getting pretty late, the clock hit 6pm, school had ended 4 hours ago.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, expecting your advisor, but instead, Riki was there, leaning on the doorframe with a smirk.

“Well, well, Prez,” his tone light but teasing. “You’re still here? Thought you’d have passed out from all that work by now.”

You barely suppressed a sigh. “I know, I know. But I can’t just let this go, the gala’s coming up already next month and there’s still so much I’ve got to do.”

He pushed off the doorframe and walked towards the desk you were at with his usual confident demeanor. “You’re stressing out again. You know, for someone who’s supposed to be in charge, you sure let the little things bother you.”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” You shot back, only half-joking. “Why are you even here anyway?”

He paused for a moment, then shrugged casually. “I don’t know, I thought you could use some help.”

You blinked, a mix of surprise anf suspicion crossing your face. “You? Help?” Are you sure you know how to do anything other than causing chaos?”

His grin widened. “Well, I may not be the most.. academically inclined student, but I’ve got my strengths. Besides, you could use a little chaos in your life, Y/N. You’re always so uptight.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart did a small flutter when he said your name. He always called you “Prez” so him saying your name was new. You couldn’t help the small smile that spread on your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, shoving a stack of papers in his hands. “You can help by making sure the decorations for the gala are on schedule.”

He grinned, snatching the papers and flipping through them. “Decorations, huh? Easy peasy.”

For a moment, it was quiet—just the two of them in the room, working side by side. He wasn’t the best at following instructions, but he had a way of making things more bearable. His constant teasing wasn’t as annoying as usual, and you actually found yourself laughing and giggling slightly at his antics, even when they made no sense at all.

For the next few weeks, he helped you.

One day, you guys were in the library together, and, you don’t know how, but you’re having a “heart-to-heart” right now.

“I’m not as bad as everyone thinks.” he mutters defensively. “You’re not dumb, Riki. You just.. don’t try.” He stared at you for a moment before letting out a small, dry laugh. “Yeah, well, sometimes it feels pointless to try. Doesn’t matter how hard I work, teachers still see me the same.”

You felt a small pang in your chest. “You know,” you began softly, “it’s not just about the grades. You just.. have to show people you’re much than that.”

He just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked back to the front while walking. “I guess you’re right. But that’s easy for you to say.” you raise a brow slightly “What do you mean?” you ask.

“What I mean is, teachers already love you. You’re class president, no? Everyone loves you.” your expression hardens just slightly, he seemed to notice and quickly spat out “Not in that way, but—“ you cut him off. “Not everyone loves me. There’s still people who talk behind my back, and I know it.” he sighs and mutters quietly “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean— I don’t know why I said that.”

he gently takes your hand, your heart skipping a beat. “I’m sorry. For.. assuming that.” you gulp slightly at his words. “H-Huh? What are you-“ he doesn’t know what came over him, but his lips somehow end up on yours. Your eyes widen, but you find yourself kissing him back. After a while, he pulls away.

You step back, unsure of what to do. “I- I need to go.” his heart drops, just a bit, was it a mistake to you? You quickly walk off. He mutters a curse under his breath. “..Fuck.”

For the next few days, you’d been avoiding him completely. You changed the classroom that you studied in, barely sparing him glances in classes you had together. It’s not like you hated the kiss. It’s the fact you enjoyed it so much, and you wanted more, that’s what you hated. You were scared, scared that you’d fall in too deep. That was a bad thing to you. Growing up, you watched people fall out of love. You were terrified of that happening to you.

The day of the gala came, the venue absolutely packed with people. Everything went accordingly.

That was until you saw him. You tried to avoid him, going opposite to where he was headed. But he eventually saw you and began to walk up to you. Just as you were going to walk away, he gently grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N, please. Let’s talk.” he says, his expression unreadable. You sigh softly and nod reluctantly. He then dragged you to a private corner, maintaining his distance. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what came over—“ he was soon interrupted.

“Riki, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have avoided you like that, I should have talked to you about how I felt. The truth is, I like you. I really, really like you. Too much, even. I was just scared. I loved your touch so much, and I hated that. But I’ve thought it over and.. I think I want to be with you. I want us to be together.” you sputtered out quickly, avoiding eye contact.

His eyes widened momentarily once you said that, but it was soon replaced with a softer look. “You like me? You mean that?” you nodded quickly, still avoiding eye contact as you play with your dress slightly out of nervousness.

He noticed your nervousness, inwardly chuckling. He grasped your chin slightly, tilting your head up to look at him. “Can you repeat that? Say you like me.” you gulped slightly, your eyes looking up into his. You got distracted for a second before you responded. “I-I like you.”

He smiled and began to lean in, not too fast but not to slow, he gave you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in as well, kissing him. He quickly encircled your waist with his arms, pulling you closer than you already were. Your hands wrapped around his neck.

After a while, he pulled away, smiling. “Does this make us official?” he asks. “Yes, Riki. I’m yours, you’re mine.” he grins at your response, bringing you into another kiss as he whispers against your lips, “I’m so glad I can call you mine now, baby.”

It was then that you realized, maybe love wasn’t so bad when it was with the right person.

[kiwianacat]

Was thinking of how the infamous itw fight scene would translate into a medieval setting, then got distracted thinking about Longtail and ended up making Longfire canon to the au whoops.

Their relationship would be incredibly slow-burn, in the background to Fireheart's relationships with Greystripe (unrequited) and Sandstorm (temporary) to the point where I don't even think they'd be "courting" until about Firestar's Prophecy.

I wrote them a background, which was meant to be brief context but ended up being really long whoops. I think i've missed writing rip

Young Rusty meets third-season squire Longpaw during the ceremonial event young pages attend to prove their ability and be chosen as squires by Warrior knights. Rusty was controversially allowed to compete by Bluestar, using his blacksmith apprenticeship experience in place of the required service as a page and Longpaw mocked him for his low-born status prompting their duel. Rusty’s win cement’s his worth to Bluestar and he becomes her squire; meanwhile Longpaw’s loss was an insult to his knight Darkstripe as well as causing a nameless, low-born to become squired to King Bluestar, earning him great dishonour. He became a bitter rival to Firepaw, even after he was knighted, frequently antagonising him as in canon.

They form a tentative partnership when Longtail rescues him from Tigerclaw dropping him in the river, as even he sees this as suspicious, although he’s afraid to directly confront his peers and hesitates to think of him as disloyal. He has gained Swiftpaw as a squire by this point, unknowingly transferring the same pressures and beliefs onto him. During Tigerclaw’s raid on camp, Fireheart turns to him for help, which helps result in Tigerclaw’s capture; Longtail is shocked and sickened when it’s revealed that he killed Redtail (his dad in the au) and offended that he wasn’t told (Fireheart, rightfully, couldn’t be sure of his loyalties). When Bluestar, turning against the stars and traditions in the wake of Tigerclaw’s escape (he was set to be executed, but escaped with the help of an unknown ally (Darkstripe obviously)) makes Fireheart the heir to the throne Longtail feels doubly betrayed. As if he’d been manipulated against his friends in a play for power; maybe Tigerclaw was right to have his doubts about Bluestar if she’s willing to break traditions as it suits her. 

Big fallout, rough time for Fireheart, as he also loses Greystripe around this time. He’s courting Sandstorm around this time and their relationship is also beginning to crack, although I’m not sure who ends it; they started courting largely due to social pressures (and to Spite Greystripe) and come to realise they have a stronger alliance platonically. Longtail also thinks that Fireheart’s helping delay Swiftpaw’s knighthood to spite him and he backslides into bitter, insecure thought patterns. 

It’s Swiftpaw’s horrific death to Tigerclaw’s hounds that’s a wake up call and Longtail finally can see the transfer of Tigerclaw’s destructive beliefs to Darkstripe, through him, taking his squire’s life. He begins to investigate the hounds and has a larger role than in canon in uncovering the plot, taking the evidence to Fireheart (who doesn’t believe him at first), which ends up being an olive branch of sorts, re-establishing their alliance. It’d take a long while to get over their shared history to the point of romance after this point, but I think Longtail sees his own feelings first as his crush would’ve been amplifying his bitterness. 

Eventually they marry, Sandstorm remains important as Firestar’s principal advisor and heir to the throne. She surrogates kits, which the three co-parent together. Longtail never takes on another squire but becomes the head of the education of young pages instead; after being blinded he maintains the role but gains a co-head (maybe Bracken, Thorn or Bright) who helps with combat/weapons instruction and has a reduced role during his recovery.

[jelloshifts]

Consider this my introduction post because I haven’t done that yet whoops.

Hi. You can call me Jello. My pronouns are she/they, and I’ve been a shifter for about five years now. I am 22 and discovered shifting a little before I turned 18, but didn’t actively try shifting until the fall of 2020– so yes, I was knee deep in the horrors of shiftok at that point.

I have a degree in Creative Writing and Publishing. It’s kind of cool, being a writer and a shifter. It does make me totally picky about what I script, but it means that the stories I write based off my shifts are gonna be brilliant.

My first ever DR was a One Direction reality (RIP). It was as horrifying as any first script. I have many DRs now, but my mains include Criminal Minds, a Hogwarts one where I am also in a band, and a College Romance type one where I date a professor wait what? I have a bunch more based off other series I love and some based off books. I just started scripting for a reality based off my own novel which is kind of epic.

I have yet to shift to any DR. I may have minishifted once in the sense that I heard my DR but I’ve never opened my eyes anywhere but here. Yes, sounds demotivating as hell. And it was, until I came here. You, shiftblr, have somehow made it all click in my head in a way shiftok could only ever dreamed of. So, thank you.

I think that pretty much sums me up. I would love to yap about any and all my DRs— or really talk about anything. I’ve never really been active in any shifting community so consider this my tentative “hey… how y’all doing?”

Oh, fun fact: I use the same name in about 90% of my DRs. My first name remains the same in all but one DR, and my last name is consistent in all but two? I think? I do that because I think it’s cool, to have this sort of identity that I carry with me throughout my own little multiverse.

Another fun fact: my favourite movie for at least six years of my life has been Coraline. I live and breathe that film. And then suddenly I discovered shifting and it’s just this funny little thing, this silly little connection I find all too intriguing. There are a lot of times where I’ll look back on my life with the knowledge I have now and am hit with this realization that I have been doing this a while, even just in the tiniest of doses, without even knowing it.

Okay, I’ll quit yapping now. Hello and welcome to my page. I don’t know what I’m doing on here but I am enjoying myself immensely.

Jello💖

[beansprean]

Oh, y'all thought the fight had started already?

My Familiar’s Ghost part 51

Masterpost

New pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of bat Nandor from Guillermo’s POV, crushed into a wall and held there by Guillermo’s hand. One of Guillermo’s claws has pierced the membrane of his wing and Nandor is clutching at his fingers in terror, staring up with wide, panicked eyes. 1b. Reverse shot of vampire Guillermo from Nandor’s POV, holding him down with his left hand as his right rears back, claws bared in preparation to strike. He is grinning maliciously, relishing in a new kill. 1c. Wide shot from the side as there is a sudden screech of tires and crash of metal. Guillermo and Nandor freeze in place and whip their heads toward the viewer and the front windows of the Panera.

2a. Wide shot from outside, on a roadway running up a hill and parallel to the Panera. A blue hatchback car with a license plate that says ‘whoops’ and a bumper sticker that says ‘how’s my driving? 1-800-KISS-IT’ has crashed into a pole with a yellow traffic light and is smoking, front end crumpled and passenger window shattered. The pole is slowly falling sideways, towards the Panera parking lot below. 2b. Close up as the traffic light, yellow light still lit, smashes into the asphalt, cracking the green lens and ripping the blinders off the red lens. 2c. Repeat. The traffic light settles on its side, mostly intact, and flips to red. Unfocused without the blinders, red light pours freely across the ground. Nearly invisible red text behind reads “stop stop stop stop”. 2d. Repeat of 2c, Guillermo and Nandor still frozen in place but now bathed in red light. Guillermo is narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the scene outside and Nandor nervously flicks his eyes over to him, assessing.

3a. The entire Panera is now flooded in red. Shot from behind the pillar Nandor is pinned to as his leg, now human shaped again, kicks forcefully upward, sending Guillermo flying backward into the opposite wall, demolishing the sheetrock and destroying a wooden chair in the process. Debris flies everywhere. 3b. Waist up of Nandor, back in human form, as he stands himself up, his inner arm bleeding. He snarls angrily and points an accusing finger at Guillermo, saying ‘You want to fight? Fine! The truth is, I have been upset with you, too!’ 3c. Reverse shot of Guillermo struggling out of the ass-sized hole he made in the wall, fangs bared and deadly gaze focused on Nandor. Nandor continues from offscreen: ‘You get so angry when I don’t know things about you but then you don’t tell me anything!’ 3d. Close up on Guillermo’s hand closing around a broken wooden chair leg. 3e. Close up on Nandor’s hand closing around a wooden chair leg as he accuses, ‘You keep secrets!’

4a. Full body of Guillermo lifting himself from a crouch in the debris left by the wall, a long stake with a shattered pointy end clutched in his left hand. His eyes, like a predator, never leave Nandor. Nandor keeps talking: ‘You assume to know what I am thinking and how I will react to things and what I will say - well you don’t.’ 4b. Knees up of Nandor as he steps away from the crushed pillar to a more strategic place against the light, holding his own long stake point-up like a readied sword in front of him. He stares seriously at Guillermo and says, ‘You hear, but you never listen, Guillermo.’ 4c. Extreme close up on Nandor’s glaring eyes trailing a slash of red light as he makes a quick turn, shouting, ‘Well you will listen to me now!’ 4d. Full body wide shot on an orange and yellow starburst background as Guillermo, both hands on his makeshift sword, takes a backswing at Nandor. Nandor’s sword meets him in the middle as he swings it down single-handed in perfect form. Their eyes never leave the other’s; they’re both in the fight now. /end ID

[caption]

Bonus ID: shot through the shattered front windshield of the crashed car to show Laszlo in the passenger seat and Colin behind the wheel, both covered in broken glass and peeking out from behind inflated airbags. Colin asks, glasses askew on his face and grinning in his usual unflappable way, ‘How was that, Lazzo?’ Laszlo smiles patiently over at Colin and asks, ‘Marvelous work, my boy! Now, what possessed you to aim for this particular traffic signal?’ Colin replies, ‘I dunno, just had a feeling. Can we go for that Escalade next? I really want to see how sensitive that pedestrian detection feature is.’ The engine continues to smoke, and there are a few wisps of familiar blue light trailing away. /end ID

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[pumpkinsy0]

If I know art (which I do☝️🤓) I know that Ponyboy's art book(s) aren't all aesthetic drawings of plants or the sunsets. That's in his 'safe' book, his more 💥unsafe💥book has more risky sketches. Like anatomy of humans and animals, occasionally an oc of his. BUT I think, he likes drawing the stupidest animals he can find, then putting someone's head on it. Especially when he's mad. He has a page dedicated to Steve as a mosquito or Dally as a bald rat. But his favourite, Curry's face on a shrimp. He finds it so funny because as an artist, he can do this and nobody will know he's putting Curly Shepherd's (who's ego can be bigger than his muscles) face onto the body of a shrimp. A damn shimp. All because he didn't share a blunt or smth 🤦‍♂️

-🧊🍵 (boo, I'm alive)

hiii ice tea anon whats goin awnnnnn

AND since u brought up pony and his sketchbook here r some other hcs i have for it but i have no way of seamlessly transition into each of em so im just saying things whoops!!!

•curly isnt big on full on drawing, hes more of a guy who just doodles on small pieces of paper, but pony always collects them and sticks them in his book

•pony only makes those stupid drawings of curly either bc curly annoyed the hell out of him or bc it annoys curly to b drawn that way. curly likes being ponys muse only when ponys drawing him to flatter him, if pony doesn’t curly just tries tricking himself and pony into believing that he was actually drawing tim

•when pony has a drawing that doesnt look that good or just better suits the second book he has NO shame in ripping that bad boy out, pony would rathey shit in his hands and CLAP before letting someone know about that book or his other drawings like that

•pony basically has a fursona he draws himself as and has literally assigned everyone else in the gang their own fursona

[11vein]

heyho! how did you learn how to draw and make art in general? i find your artstyle visually pleasing and nice to look at, i wish to one day be able to draw like you but i don't know where to begin 😞 also what are your art inspirations?

i know this is a cliche answer but i self-taught myself and improved quickly in my early years simply by attaching to a character i really liked and drawing them nonstop especially during my school days (and that character eventually morphed into my oc kaizer) because my ADHD ass didn't want to do anything with school loL genuinely though this is one of the best ways to learn is just to get really obsessed with something and draw it and branch out from there after you've had your fill dont be like me completely though when it comes to studying with art, you should absolutely do fundamental studies too (still life/etc) . i was stubborn and didnt really do it because i dont find a lot of joy in it but i think its kinda stunted my abilities that i never did in recent years though i went from drawing characters just standing/busts in an empty space to realizing i love drawing actual scenes with characters interacting with their environments and it has forced me to learn ways to streamline my art process and learn to do backgrounds. its been fun but now ive gotten way too ambitious and perfectionistic about one-uping myself and burnt myself out so im currently working on re-finding my passion and ways to work around that perfectionism. so thats kinda where i am rn...?

anyway, its really a matter of finding an obsession and honing in on it like i said . so do that but dont get so obsessed you ignore important stuff like i have done haHA

sidenote. don't fuck up your wrist listen to artists when they say you should not overexert it and do stretches because im fucked with carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists already at age 23 whoops. also references. dont be afraid to use those theyre so important it took me so many years to not be stubborn about them and that also stunted me anyway when it comes to my art inspirations/??? a lot of it is just aesthetics of various media ive absorbed into my brain and jumbled around, but when it comes to actual individual artists here are some im heavily inspired by on the visual art side (warning for nsfw/suggestive works on some of these artists pages)

nuqelear (rip)

sidu

urano000

cata_dioptric

vellmori (inactive)

populamalus

bakui (is this their name?)

avrilundi/_96peori theres absolutely so many more but these are like. some of my primary ones i can recall lately

[shojizbae]

Memory Lane

Adult! Tom Kaulitz x Reader

“Ich bin nervös, bist du?”

“Ja eine kleine.”

The studio has a chilled doctor's office waiting room feel, with an all-white background, boring gray chairs, and gigantic LED panels. It’s been ten years since Tom and I broke up, so Vogue wanted us to tell our story. We’re both wearing smart blazers, although Tom has paired his with some slacks and leather sneakers. Mine is paired with a slim dress and some utility boots.

The crew is finishing up micing us and doing a final mic check before the camera starts rolling. The director calls us on, and we take our seats. At least the chair is comfortable.

“So it’s been ten years since the two of you separated.”

“Ja, well, we tell our friends it’s been 10 years since we ended our sexual relationship.”

“Ja, well, we are still excellent friends.” I agree and pat Tom's knee

“So, how did the two of you meet?” the producer asks. He looks very stereotypical, with his crossed pensive arms and all-too-self-important expression. He even has his finger on his lip like Jeff Goldbloom.

“Well, Tom met me when I started touring with them as their opener, but I met Tom through the band. I got a CD of Schrei the day it came out. So working with them was like a total dream come true.” I explain, gesticulating the whole time.

“And Tom, what was your first impression of (Y/n)?”

“Well, they put us in a meeting to discuss her work with us and showed a video of her shredding her bass, and I thought, wow, this girl is so hot and so good at playing. And the. We met her in person, and Bill will say I followed her like a puppy, but she made the first move. And yeah, I always thought she was so cool and talented, and she was just so pretty.” He finished his rambles by looking at me

“Aw, thank you, Tommy.” You cross your legs and await the following instructions. The producer hands you an ornate-looking scrapbook. They instruct you to open to the first page, and it shows the first tabloids to sniff out your and Tom’s relationships. Pictures of the two of you strutting around Berlin, hand in hand.

“Oh, sehr kleine!” I looked at the pictures as the memories came flooding back—the first few weeks when we were so excited to be in love with each other. I had a pout and enormous sunglasses clouding my face, and Tom was smiling proudly and holding up our interlaced hands.

“Woah, we were so. Gott, you were so skinny.” Tom mentions

“Do you want to explain these photos?” The director asks.

“This is-this is 2006.” I look right into the lens. “We, I think, had been dating for a month at this point.” I point to a picture of me readjusting Tom’s dreads on a park bench.

“Poor Georg and Gustav, they were so sick of my shit at this point.” Tom points to an infamous photo of the two of you making out of a sofa between the boys, and their faces are completely annoyed. I laugh at the picture. Everything about it reminds me of being young. I’ve got Tom’s hat on, and his hands are sliding under the hem of my shorts.

“Yeah, we’re little animals.” I agree. My eyes scan the bag one more time. The dramatically patterned zip-up hoodies and the DC sneakers were just beautiful.

“Alright, you can turn the page.”

The next page shows more pictures of us walking around town, on vacation, and on stage together. I whoop when I see the photo of Tom and I playing guitar back to back.

“Woah, I remember this night.”

“Ja, the crowd was just electric.” Tom reminisces

“It was electric, and everything just worked out. We were supposed to be late to the venue for traffic, but it cleared out. Mic checks were shady, and one of Gustav’s drum heads almost ripped, but this was an incredible night.”

“I remember your singing being extra special, too. " My heart flutters, and I brush my hand over the photo. When I look at my hand, I see the tattoos and my promise ring.

“What a good night.”

“Alright, now that we’ve got some background, we’re going into your more notable fashion moments.” On the next page were some of our most ridiculous statements. The time Tom wore 3 hats on a red carpet. At the time, I performed in a bra and underwear. The two of us wearing Dirndl and Leider Hoisen. And most famously, the handcuff belt accident.

“Oh, this is when we performing at the worldwide German convention.” I point to pictures of me and the band dancing around in traditional German clothes. We couldn’t have been older than 18 at that time.

“That night was so fun. We all bought these matching steins, and we nearly went through a keg of beer.” Tom recalls. I tried to recall that, but after I got off stage and we started drinking, my memory fogged up.

“Who is the better drinker?”

“Well, technically, Bill is the best of the band because he could put back as much hard liquor as he wants and then roll out of bed and sing, but I think that night,”

“Nein, it’s totally Georg; he had the body mass to soak up all the liquor.” Before we knew it, Tom and I argued in German about the best drinker.

“Well, if we want to talk about this picture,” Tom recenters the focus, pouting at the page, “(Y/n) can drink any of us under the table when it comes to beer.”

“I think you guys are intentionally ignoring one pair of photos.”

“And which ones would those be?” I play coy with the producer

“Why don’t you turn the page.” The next page is just many zoomed-in shots of the two of us wearing my infamous handcuff belt. I wore it on a four-month tour of the United States in almost every show. But during one show in Fort Lauderdale, it had been damaged very distinctly. I was in a post-show interview showing it off, so everyone knew the handcuff belt had two big scratches on the left side. Which was all fine and dandy until I got home to Germany, and I hadn’t seen my famously horny boyfriend in four months. And, of course, we took to the first private area we could find. I can't remember if that was a car or a hotel, but in the evening, a photograph of Tom in a handcuffed belt with two scratches on the left side was circulating every drama outlet and tabloid.

“Oh, nein, why would you circle it?” Tom holds the book up to show close-up shots of me performing and him giddily strutting down the sidewalk.

“I don’t know why this photo got so much attention at that moment because we shared clothes all the time,” Tom said casually as if that would save this. “I think once I was on stage, a pair of your panties fell out of my pocket. Everyone knew what we were doing.”

“Did you ever steal Tom’s clothes?” Someone on the crew asks. It’s difficult to see beyond the panel of lights

“Did she? Sheiße, she wore my underwear more often than she would wear her own.” I hid my fave in my hands, knowing that when Tom’s voice pitched up like that, we were in for a rant, “Anytime we shared a hotel on vacation or for work, I would leave clean clothes on my bed for after my shower. I would go in the shower rubba-dub-dub. And when I got back, my boxers were gone. Where did they go? I would scratch my head for twenty minutes until (y/n) got out of the shower, and she toweled off her hair in a big t-shirt. That big t-shirt was usually mine, by the way, and when she would lift her arms, I could see that she had taken my underwear!”

I could feel the blood racing around my face under my skin. Tom started rubbing circles on my back.

“You seem to be overhearing. Why don’t we turn the page?” I’m still reeling from embarrassment, so Tom flips the page.

“Oh mein maus.” Tom coos under his breath.

“Was?”

“You be got to look at these.” He placed a hand on my wrist. I scan around the page, and it looks like a true scrapbook photo with twisted angles and stickers everywhere. I run my finger over a photo of me on a skateboard and Tom facing me, holding both my hands. I feel a lump forming in my throat. Our smiles were completely taking over our faces. Photos of us on dates to the mall and the roller ring. Tuning each other's guitars and cuddling on tour buses. In one picture, I was completely knocked out on a couch, and Tom was under me with his face scrunched up like he had eaten a lemon.

“Why did you look like that?” I point at his I-just-stubbed-my-toe-face

“You were sleeping like an angel, baby.” I was lying on his chest, and his hand tangled in my hair.

“When even was this?” I mutter somewhat to myself

“I think it was the music festival in Italy.” He replies in German.

“Oh Ja, I can see the hem of my stupid leather pants. Hottest day of a southern Italian summer, and I decided to wear leather leggings. They were so sweaty. My whole body was like wet.”

“That’s probably why you fell asleep. I think I remember peeling those pants off you and giving you some boxers to sleep in.” I remember waking up in red checkered boxers with flaming skulls on them. “They were dripping sweat,” Tom confirms

“That’s gross.” I groan. “Wait, who took this picture?”

“Es war Bill.”

“Aw wie geht it ihm?”

“Gut.”

“Gut.”

We chatter about pictures taken as we walk from the cinema, shots of us performing together, pictures taken sneakily on vacation, and some god-awful photos of us on the red carpet. We talk about our styles and how they’ve evolved. Obviously, Tom’s the most, as he no longer wears pants that could house a small village.

“But I feel like your style has changed a lot. And when we got older, you dressed a lot according to the trends.”

“Yeah, there was a time in 2012-2013 when I was as obsessed with wearing colorful, like, pastel skinny jeans with pumps. And then just a tank top and a blazer.”

“Oh, Ja,” Tom flips over to a picture of the two of us. You looked nice—like a little business lady.”

“I was a little business lady. I just don’t like how they looked on my thighs.” I heard Tom scoff next to me. “I’m glad the fashion pendulum has swung back to baggier, more relaxed-fit jeans.”

“I do enjoy being more easy breezy.” Tom wiggles his hips around on his chair, “I didn’t like wearing skinny jeans. I felt like everyone was staring at my dick.”

“I was,” I smirk, and we reminisce about our early 20s, and I feel pity for the girl stomping around Manhattan in her pumps with the boys she’s in line with because she has no clue she only has two years left with him.

“That’s when you had the cornrows and wore a lot of flannel and scarves.” We reminisce about his switch to slim-fit jeans with little leather patches from his embroidered diesels.

“Alright, and we’ll finish things with a bang.” The producer states and tells us to turn the page. On the next page is my biggest embarrassment. For a few months, Tom and I had a running gag. An overly intrusive interviewer was nearly interrogating Tokio Hotel, and I came into the studio just at the wrong time. The journalist had asked the boys about their hobbies while some were walking around. Naturally, as we had been dating for a year, I stood near Tom as he paced. When they asked him what his hobby was, he replied, “This,” and grabbed me by the hips and dry-humped me a few times. At first, I spun around and slapped him on the chest, non-seriously.

I loved how horny he was for me.

Later, I was being interviewed, and a different journalist asked me what my favorite pastime was. As the boys were lingering behind the camera crew, Tom decided to wander in and bend over in front of me, so I grabbed him by the hips and dry-humped him. He topped off with dramatic moans and crossed eyes, but seeing the journalist completely flushed made us laugh.

“I would say that’s my favorite pastime. Or maybe writing music.” For the next few months, we would take any opportunity to pretend to fuck each other on red carpets, on the street, or on stage. Going so far as to write a single called “sexsüchtig” or sex addict so I could have Tom sit on a wooden chair and give him lap dances on stage. There was a smattering of images of us just being promiscuous everywhere. One picture showed me in chunky platform heels and a lacy mini skirt, sitting on a wooden chair with my head tipped back, singing. I had a foot on Tom’s shoulder while he fake ate me out, kneeling in front of me. I even wrote the song with a verse of just runs that sound like moans.

That was a crowd favorite when I would perform it.

“Alright, we’re going to have you guys watch some edits that people make of you on TikTok.”

“Oh, nein.” I groan

“Are you on TikTok?” The producer asks

“I’m not. But I know everyone else is. And some of that stiff bleeds over to Instagram. And so I see it there. But I try to stay off social media.”

“And you, Tom?”

“I’ve seen some stuff, but Ja, I’m most just like Instagram.”

“Ok so for the most part, you haven’t seen these?”

"Nein because Gustav's daughter sends them to me." At one, they hand Tom a giant iPad and open the photos app with a few edits loaded up. They began a screen recording and showed what they had learned to be a standard edit of Tom. Some clip of him saying something, and then they would splice photos of him over some sexual song called "Do you wanna fuck”. I smiled down at it in memory.

“Woah, you’re such a baby. You can’t be more like than 15 in some of those.”

“Ja, I was young.”

“It’s kind of weird that people wanted to fuck you if you’re so young.”

“In all fairness, it’s not like I wasn’t having sex at the time these pictures were taken.” He smiled. “All right next!”

The next edit was of me to a sir-mix-a-lot song, and out came blasting, “but I got to be straight when I say I wanna huh-ooh til the break of dawn.” It played a clip of me rolling my eyes. God, I used to wear so much eyeliner. There are more pictures of me at suggestive angles.

“God, you’re so hot.” Tom laughs. “look at you and your hot pink guitar”

“This is super weird to watch. It’s impressive, but I’m just slightly jarred.” We watch more individuals before they switch over to some nonserious clips of us essentially chirping at each other. They caption the videos with 'goofiest couple' or 'cutie patooties.' I enjoyed the videos of us being children having pillow fights in hotels and making weird groans.

"Alright, and finally, we're going to finish the video with one final edit of the you two." Tom clicks the final play button it's a slowed-down edit of the two of us while in the era of me giving lap dances. The pure eroticism of us grinding against each other. The look of it. His eye as he studies me singing. And how I stared into his soul while I sang about how good he fucks me.

It wouldn't hurt to climb into his lap again. I love his wife, Heidi, but I miss him. After 3 years with my boyfriend, Gregory, and no engagement ring in sight, just this shitty promise ring. That was the whole reason we split. After dating Tom for a decade, I was ready to get married. Sure, we were only 24, but I only wanted him. And that wasn't what he wanted, so we split.

Now, ten years have passed, and I'm still not married.

He's right next to me, and I miss him.

[zabala0z]

Hii welcome back to “newbie rips hair out over writing TMA notes” I’m your eternal host and I’m dying here guys.

Haven’t watched episode 39: infestation yet cause i wrote my notes digitally and had this convention today but when doing this, I noticed some new stuff!!

1. In page Turner, Gerard keay showed up. He showed up earlier than I thought. Along with his mom who apparently was dead yall I did not pay attention. 💀 It’s interesting since in Old Passages, we got to see teenage him (still sporting the cheap hair dye) and he said his mom knows about all this stuff which is true since in page Turner, she was all over Jurgen Leitners books.

2. Sarah Baldwin!! I learned this through a mutual but I’m glad I could see some other details. I wonder how disappearing near Old Fisherman Close leads to you peeling off your skin and stapling it. She also was called a smoker and in Skintight, she smoked a ton.

3. In Do Not Open, the truck was called “Breekon and Hope deliveries” who, when reading the transcripts, are the two delivery men who delivered Jons shit in Old Passages. I don’t know if knowing their names was a spoiler (whoops) but they also delivered a pale yellow stole to Father Edwin in Desecrated Host! I was just scouring the transcripts trying to figure that out yall.

4. This is a mild theory but maybe the John in Do Not Open is the same John in Taken Ill??? They’re both named John and that’s all I got but eh

Anyways that’s everything. Might not listen to the next ep until tomorrow night cause man if I see one more mention of teeth or worms or bugs or meat, I will cry. Also it’s 12 am

[marypsue]

I got tagged by @astriiformes to share some of the books on my to-read list for 2025!

A few of these have been on my bookshelf for a while, unopened (whoops), a few of these were recommendations from friends or mutuals, and others I stumbled across while looking for something completely different. I'm particularly excited about She Is A Haunting; the author's entry in the anthology Night of the Living Queers (ed. Shelly Page and Alex Brown), 'Nine Stops', was the standout winner of the entire anthology and should be one of those short stories you're required to read in ninth grade that haunts you for the rest of your life.

I've also been putting off reading The Angel of Indian Lake, because I already know SGJ is going to rip my heart out and make me say 'thank you'.

By title and author:

The Angel of Indian Lake, by Stephen Graham Jones

Poe-Land: The Hallowed Haunts of Edgar Allen Poe, by J. W. Ocker

The House Next Door, by Anne Rivers Siddons

She Is A Haunting, by Trang Thanh Tran

Dark Archives: A Librarian's Investigation Into the Science and History of Books Bound in Human Skin, by Megan Rosenbloom

I Only Read Murder, by Will and Ian Ferguson

A History of Delusions, by Victoria Shepherd

Trickster Makes This World: Mischief, Myth, and Art, by Lewis Hyde

October Dreams: A Celebration of Halloween, ed. Richard Chizmar and Robert Morrish

I tag @forthegothicheroine, @gretchensinister, @tejoxys, @daddygrandpaandthebeaver, @marzipanandminutiae, @pingnova, @queerpyracy, and anyone else who'd like to do it!

[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?!

[silvery-bluish]

Tell us about Ars, Danny, and Ricardo? What are they like together? Does Ars act differently around Danny as they do Ric? Where do they all stand at the end of Retri?

Haha oh we’re inviting walltext. Sorry for the delay, this took me a few days to write out LOL dropping it beneath a cut bc it's pretty long.

tldr: ricardo means a lot to them and has always meant a lot to them, but theyre real bad at communicating. Daniel makes them better at communicating in some ways but they're very aware they fucked that up before it started. They're stuck in Ortega's apartment and theyre gonna implode dramatically.

Arsinoe and Ricardo have the weight of their past behind them, the 8-odd years of being at its complicate (with a break to be presumed dead) has comfort to it, Ricardo’s part of their normal, it’s like falling back into orbit when they’re near him. But there’s lots of things left unsaid, undefined, unclarified, because they felt they COULDNT in the old days and they certainly feel like they can’t now. Which is part of why they spend most of Retri avoiding him, whoops.

I think Ricardo’s afraid to push them too hard to clarify, these days, bc that might make them run again, and he wasn’t ready to push for things like publicly officially dating, in the Sidestep days. They trust each other in ways that are practically automatic at this point. They’d die for each other. They keep assuming they’re on the same page when they’re in entirely different books.

Arsinoe and Daniel sure don’t have that inertia behind them, so in some ways it’s easier to talk plainly? Daniel’s earnest bluntness and mental openness make Ars answer in kind. It's easier, smaller, maybe, for now, not as entwined as their relationship is with Ricardo, but that's safer, in some ways? They like his determination, his Decision to see the best in people.

They do have the, uh, fact that Arsinoe is So Very Aware that they fucked up his knee at the gala, because at the time he hadn't made it to the list of people they give a shit about and they'd decided that hurting him was the fastest way to be sure he wouldn't get in their way again. Whoops. This affects their interaction with him in two main ways-- they're pretty constantly worrying that they're taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't know - which is also kinda true - and they're hyperaware of not wanting to hurt him again, in a way that means they probably back off a little too fast when they're training which probably makes Daniel think they're going easy on him, sometimes?

So. They won't commit to anything real and firm and solid with either of them, because Arsinoe is very aware that the villain situation means anything they're building right now is going to inevitably fall apart except oops! car crash!! ortega knows theyre a regene and the world didnt end! Arsinoe's staying in Ortega's apartment, because it would feel like taking too much advantage of Daniel to stay in his apartment, and they don't want to leave Los Diablos to get to the Ranch, and Ricardo's apartment has been something like safe for them before so maybe it's safe now--

(They're rapidly running out of excuses to avoid talking about their relationships. I want them to villain reveal before they get anything firmed up relationship-wise, because they are-- very stressed out about building something they want and having it ripped away from them, inevitably. Safer not to name it. Probably going to accidentally imply to the guys theyre ready for a poly relationship talk and then actually hit them with the villain reveal. Sorry All.)

[orionsstory]

girl from mars | cygnus (02)

yayyy chapter two is finished !! and it's like double the last chapter whoops. will be posted on ao3 (whenever the site is back up rip) ---

Dawn is awoken by the noise of something falling in the other room. She slowly blinked her eyes open, her vision coming into focus as she saw Amanda stumbling out of her room. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a white button-up, and her red hair was put up in a low bun. She looked beautiful. "'Manda?" She groaned out, attempting to sit up but was stopped by Violet, who was lying on her chest.

"Good morning," Amanda hummed as she rummaged around the kitchen, "sorry, I'm in a rush. Fucking alarm didn't go off. I have some leftovers for you in the fridge, and don't go anywhere- I don't want you getting lost." She slid on a low pair of heels, came back over the couch, and leaned over to pet Violet.

"I'll be back in about 8 hours, okay? I left my phone number on the kitchen counter in case you need anything. Just call."

"Okay..." Dawn yawned, staring up at her with wonder.

Amanda smiled brightly, it reminded Dawn of the Sun. She lazily smiled back at her, barely registering the sound of the front door shutting and locking as she fell back asleep.

-

Dawn woke up a few hours later, and a glance towards the clock read 10:13 am. She groaned as she shifted on the couch, Violet meowing in protest.

"Sorry Vi..." She mumbled, scratching in between the cat's ears. Violet settled back down, her purrs seemed to vibrate through Dawn's entire being. It made her giggle. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling before her stomach rumbled, interrupting her and her thoughts.

She stood up, apologizing to Violet who was forced off of her spot. She stumbled into the bathroom, struggling to open the packaging her toothbrush was in. She cursed as she finally got through the plastic, accidentally cutting herself on a part of it. She was finally able to brush her teeth, grimacing at the taste of the toothpaste. Gross, maybe human stuff wasn't as good as she thought.

She made her way to the kitchen, Violet following on her heels. She rummaged through the fridge, trying to find the food Amanda had left for her. "Leftovers...leftovers...left...overs." She muttered as her eyes scanned the contents of the fridge. She didn't really understand what the word meant...but she figured it couldn't be too hard to figure out. She took out a container that looked like it contained some noodles, figuring this was probably a leftover she took it out.

She rummaged around for a fork, sitting down on the couch as she looked around. She knew Amanda had a tv, which meant she had to have something to turn it on with. She picked up a small black object on the side table, turning it over in her hand. She pressed a button at the top, and the TV flickered to life. Huh, remotes had gotten smaller compared to the ones she learned about in school. At least most of the buttons on it seemed to be the same.

"YouTube...Netflix...are these...channels?" She murmured, flicking through the carousel. She clicked on one, YouTube, and was brought to a page filled with several little videos. Dawn clicked on a random one, letting it play as she ate the cold noodles. Her attention was glued to the video, fascinated by it. The next few hours passed as she watched more and more videos, this was so much more interesting than her professors had described. Humans were so intriguing, she'd have to ask Amanda more about it when she got back.

The video playing ended, and the next one started autoplaying. It wasn't a video containing people talking like the last ones, but it was a song. It sounded so different from the human music that her professors had shown her, and in her opinion, this sounded a lot better. The artist's songs kept playing and Dawn found herself falling more and more in love with the music. It was so different from the music from her home planet, she found herself paying attention to every lyric and melody. The next few hours flew by without her even noticing.

-

"I'm home!" Amanda called out as she entered the room, slinging her bag off of her shoulder and dropping it beside the doorway. She paused, looking over towards Dawn. "Are...are you listening to Taylor Swift?"

Dawn looked back at her, shrugging her shoulders. She handed Amanda the remote as she leaned over the couch, the other girl scrolling through the recently played.

"Jesus, you've listened to like...a whole album." Amanda chuckled, "Did you like it?"

She enthusiastically nods, "You guys have such good music here, it's so different from our music back home. I've heard human music before but...nothing like this!"

Amanda took a seat next to her on the couch, "What kind of music? Do you remember any of the song names?"

Dawn thought for a moment, she remembered the song she had liked the most started with a B. "B...Blandy? No, that's not right...something with 'fine girl', that's all I remember."

"Brandy?" Amanda suggests, and Dawn snaps her fingers. "Brandy! That's it! I mean, don't get me wrong I liked it, but it was nothing like this."

Amanda chuckles, "That's probably because that song is like, 50 years old. Music has changed a lot since then. I'll have to show you some of my favorites sometime."

Dawn grinned, "Please! I'd love that."

Amanda softly smiled, stretching as she got up. "Okay, let me go change and then I'll cook us some dinner- did you find the food I left for you?"

"I did. It was such an interesting texture...also kind of cold."

"Sorry about that," she heard Amanda call from the other room, "usually people eat it hot, but I didn't have the time to teach you how to work the microwave."

Amanda reappeared from her room, dressed in a tank top and pair of sweatpants. "You're really pretty." Dawn couldn't stop herself from blurting it out, she felt slightly embarrassed until she saw the smile on Amanda's face.

"Thanks, Dawn. You're not too bad yourself." She laughed, making her way to the kitchen. Dawn jumped off the couch and followed behind her eagerly. "What to make...what to make..." Amanda muttered, looking up at her cabinets. Dawn mimicked her movements, carefully watching her.

"How do you feel about grilled cheese?"

"Grilled...cheese?"

"It's just two pieces of bread and some cheese in between...sometimes I put bacon on mine if I'm feeling fancy. Well, it's vegan bacon. I can get some regular bacon for you to try sometime."

Dawn nodded along, pretending to have some sort of idea of what those ingredients were.

"Grilled cheese...sounds good."

Dawn watched as Amanda pulled out all the ingredients, setting them aside on the counter. She motioned for Dawn to come closer.

"Do you wanna help?"

Dawn eagerly nodded, standing beside Amanda. Amanda instructed her to take out the bread and cheese while she cooked the bacon. Dawn carefully put the pieces of cheese on the bread while she watched Amanda cook. The bacon sizzled in the pan, Dawn hid behind Amanda as some of the oil hit her skin.

"Sorry about that, you've gotta be careful when frying stuff." Amanda apologized, turning off the stove as she slid the bacon onto a plate. She instructed Dawn to place the bacon onto the sandwiches while she cleaned the pan. Dawn took the utmost care in the work, making sure everything was equal and fair.

Amanda then had Dawn cut off a small sliver of butter and put it into the frying pan, she then watched as Amanda carefully picked up one of the sandwiches with the spatula, sliding it into the pan. She pressed the sandwich down with the spatula, a hissing sound coming from the pan. Dawn backed away again.

"Don't worry! That's normal- promise." Amanda's smile comforted her, coaxing her to come forward again. She watched as Amanda flipped the sandwich, the side that was previously down was now a brown color, crispy. After another minute or so, she put the sandwich on a plate.

"Do you wanna try the other one?"

"Uhh..."

"Don't worry, I'll be here to help you."

With reassurance, she stepped forward. She copied the steps from before, slicing the butter before carefully sliding the sandwich into the pan.

"How do I know when to flip it?"

Amanda shrugged, "You kinda just have to keep lifting it up to make sure it's not burnt. As you do it more you'll get a better idea of how long it takes. Grilled cheese doesn't usually take too long."

Dawn nodded, paying careful attention to her words as she lifted the sandwich with the spatula, peeking under. She put it back down for another few seconds before checking again, flipping it over.

"Like that?"

"Perfect!"

Dawn flushed, a smile growing across her face. She almost forgot to take the sandwich off, but luckily she caught it just in time. She proudly showed it off to Amanda who clapped for her, praising Dawn. She almost didn't want it to stop, but alas, it did.

The two sat on the couch, Amanda clicking on the TV. "Did you wanna watch anything specific?"

Dawn shook her head, "I don't remember the name of anything I watched. We can just watch something you like."

Amanda hummed, clicking on some TV show that Dawn didn't know. She slowly bit into her sandwich, processing the taste. It felt a bit weird in her mouth but she liked it, the cheese felt kind of strange, but not in a bad way.

"Is it good? Do you like it?"

Dawn nodded, "It's so...weird. But not in a bad way, it's really good! It's all like...clingy."

Amanda chuckled, "That's cause the cheese is all melted, when some stuff gets all hot it'll cling onto the stuff it's between."

"Ohhh." Dawn nodded along, turning her attention back to whatever was playing on the television. "What are we watching?"

"The Bachelor. Basically, all these women are competing to marry this guy- it's such a shitty show but it's so good."

"Do they stay married?"

Amanda laughed, "No. Not most of the time, anyway. But it's fun for the drama. They have a version with guys competing for the girl as well."

"So...are they actors?"

"No, they're real people chosen for a show, they're not playing a character. It's called reality TV- shows like Survivor or Big Brother. We'll have to watch those too."

Dawn nodded along, just happy to spend more time with Amanda. She knew so much about this, Dawn found it impressive. She was patient with her, explaining the things she didn't understand or certain slang she didn't know.

"Oh! Before I forget, I have something for you." Amanda jumped up from the couch, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a sleek device and handed it to Dawn. She turned it over in her hand, clicking it on.

"Isn't this a phone?"

It was thinner and sleeker than the chunky phones with cords she had learned about. It was fascinating to see the evolution of human technology.

"Yup! I got it from Sapphira, I figured you'd need one so you can contact me throughout the day. Plus, now that we can talk and now that you have GPS, you can start working on your ship!"

Dawn launched across the couch and enveloped her in a hug, grinning wildly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! How does it work?"

Amanda spent the next hour teaching Dawn how her phone worked (it can scan her face, how neat!) and setting it up. Now she had Amanda's number and could bug her at any time, something she'd be sure to make use of. She got to set up her wallpapers- a pretty space theme, of course.

"So...I know I said we'd get you some clothes today, but it's late and I'm a bit too tired for that. But, I was thinking, maybe tomorrow we can go shopping instead? I mean, don't get me wrong I don't mind you wearing mine, but I thought it might be nice for you- to do like a human activity. Does that make sense?"

"Like...like at a mall and everything?"

Amanda nodded and Dawn lit up. "I've wanted to go to a mall so bad, please can we go?"

"Okay, okay, we'll leave around noon tomorrow. We can get lunch and then go shopping. We'll make a whole day out of it."

"Sounds fun," Dawn mumbled, having returned to munching on her sandwich.

The rest of the night flew by, as time often did with Amanda. They watched another episode of The Bachelor, Dawn watched with interest as Amanda yelled at a man on screen- for what, Dawn didn't know, but she found it amusing nonetheless. After that, Dawn helped Amanda do the dishes (where she found out a soap shared her name- it has ducks on it!), which Dawn found fun despite the fact that she ended up spraying most of the water on herself. In her defense, those hose things were hard to operate!

Amanda let her take a shower after that, giving Dawn the basic rundown. It was easy enough- it was different from the way they did things back home but they had talked about it in classes. It was strange to actually act it out, though. Dawn carefully dried her body and hair, the soft towel felt so comforting.

Now, she was lying on the couch, enveloped in her soft blankets. She smelled like Amanda now- she couldn't explain why, but it brought a sense of comfort to her. She had to fight not to fall asleep, but the sound of the shower was lulling her to sleep. She wanted to stay awake- to tell Amanda goodnight. But as Violet curled up onto her, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

-

She woke up the next morning to the sound of Amanda talking to someone, muffled by the closed door. She slowly blinked her eyes open to clear her vision, scratching Violet between her ears. Violet purred, rubbing her head against Dawn's hand. "Mornin' Vi." She yawned, stretching her arms.

She gently sat up as Violet scurried off of her, running a hand through her messy hair. She heard Amanda thanking someone before the talking stopped and she emerged from her room. She was dressed casually in a purple tank top with a daisy and a black skirt, contrasted by her bright ginger hair resting on her shoulders.

"Oh! Morning Dawn, I was just about to wake you. I left you some clothes on my bed for you to wear out. I don't really know what your style is, so I hope they're good enough."

Anything Amanda picked out for her would be good enough, but she didn't tell her that. It was too embarrassing, she didn't want to come off as clingy. She scurried off into the bathroom after picking up the clothes and getting ready. She tapped the bracelet and morphed into her human form. She brushed out her black hair, opting to leave it down, and shredded her old clothes to put on the ones that Amanda gave her. It was a matching purple tank top and some shorts that she was pretty sure were denim.

She emerged from Amanda's room, "What do you think?"

Amanda gasped, her eyes lighting up. "You look so cute! And look, we match!"

Dawn blushed at that, nodding and giggling along with her.

"So, all ready to go?"

Dawn nodded and followed Amanda as they exited the apartment. She tried to follow closely behind Amanda as she led the two down the streets of the city, growing busier and busier as they got closer into the city. It began to be harder to keep up with her as the crowds increased and Dawn had to stand on her tiptoes to try and see the ginger.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed hers. She looked up, greeted by the ginger she was looking for. "Don't want you gettin' lost." She spoke, smiling brightly at her. Dawn was too flustered to speak, only gently nodding in response.

Amanda then led them underground, Dawn's eyes widening at the fluorescent lighting and grunge. She was even more shocked when she saw what looked like a train stationed farther down.

"Ever been on the subway before?" Amanda swiped her card through something, beckoning Dawn to go through. "No- I've heard of it though. Almost didn't think it was real." She called back as she went through the thing, patiently waiting at the end for Amanda.

"Buckle up, it's an...experience for sure."

They linked hands again, and Amanda led her to the crowded platform. She glanced around at the people, observing them. The chatter and noise of the subway was a bit overwhelming, she knew places could get busy but she didn't know it would feel like this. People pushed and bumped into her, it made her panic slightly, clinging onto Amanda's hand.

Amanda pulled her closer to her, "Rush hour. It'll be less crowded on our way back."

Dawn nodded, her attention now pulled by a train pulling up to the platform. It made a huffing noise as the doors opened, Amanda tugging her inside. She quickly snagged seats for the two of them, letting Dawn take the side closest to the door. She watched as Amanda pulled something out of her bag, placing one in her ear.

"It's an earbud, we use it for music." She explained, handing the other one to Dawn. Dawn copied her movements, placing the device in her other ear. Amanda adjusted it slightly before pressing something on her phone. Suddenly, Dawn's ear was filled with music, her eyes widened a little in shock as Amanda softly chuckled.

The ride was nice, Dawn enjoyed looking out the window even though the scenery didn't change much- mostly dark tunnel interrupted by the occasional platform. They passed a few more stops before Amanda tugged her up, leaving the train at the next stop. They passed back up to the busy street and Amanda led her towards a large building, pushing open the door.

Dawn was in awe- the place was massive. Several floors were filled with bright lights and colors, and people flooded in and out of the various stores. It captivated her. She almost forgot she could move until Amanda gently tugged her along, saying something about getting a bite to eat. She got to ride on moving stairs (she almost got stuck at the top though, it was a close call) and be pulled further into the large building. Her eyes shone as Amanda led her to a giant opening, tables filling the middle of the room and restaurants lining the walls.

"Do you want to try anything in particular?"

Her brain zeroed back in on Amanda, trying to process what she said. She shook her head 'no', watching as Amanda stood there in thought.

"We can do the chicken place, I think you might like chicken."

"Sounds interesting..." She mumbled, her eyes still wide as she gazed over all the choices. She followed Amanda's lead, navigating through the crowd until they reached a restaurant. The place was bright red, and had a smell coming from it- she didn't know what exactly it was, but it smelled delicious. She silently watched as Amanda ordered for the both of them, only letting go of her hand when Amanda handed her a cup.

"It's for your drink- there's a drink station over there," Amanda explained, gesturing with her other hand as she got out her wallet.

Dawn made her way over, looking at all the choices. She didn't know what any of them were, but she did see a larger clear tube in the middle- for ice, perhaps? She was proven correct as ice tumbled (very loudly, may she say) into the cup. She then perused her choices, settling on 'root beer'. She gently pressed her cup against the little bar, smiling to herself as the drink filled up.

She pulled it away once the drink was filled, turning to Amanda who had just approached.

"I figured it out! Ice and everything!" She proudly beamed, showing the cup to Amanda.

"Wow, you're better at picking things up than some of the kids I used to babysit." She smiled, repeating the process for her own drink. She then collected tops, placing Dawns for her. She then led Dawn over to a nearby table to wait as Amanda left to go wait for their food. It took a few minutes, but eventually, Amanda returned and set down a box and a container in front of her.

"What's this?"

"Chicken nuggets and fries." She responded, sliding another thing towards her. "This is ranch, you can dip your nuggets in it."

She tried the food, her eyes lighting up. Amanda smiled as she dug into her own food, "So you like it?" Dawn excitedly nodded, feverishly grinning.

"How do you always seem to know what I'll like?"

"I just treat you like a toddler. We'll work on expanding your palette later."

Dawn nodded, pretending to understand what she was referencing. If she treated her like a toddler, did that mean she cared for her in a motherly sense? Maybe, but it seemed unlikely. Amanda didn't seem to have any motherly instincts, or really any strong survival instincts if she thought about it.

They finished eating and linked hands again as Amanda led her around the mall, down the seemingly never-ending corridors. Stores were crammed into every space possible, some filled with clothes, some filled with food, and some filled with novelty items- Dawn found them all fascinating, but none in particular caught her eye. They move up a floor, and the same thing- nothing in particular catches her interest. She goes into a few stores, but it all seems too...boring. She almost gives up hope on finding something she'll like.

That is until they hit the fourth floor.

"Whoa...what is that place?" She stops in place, staring up at the store in front of her.

"Hot Topic? Do you wanna go in?"

She nodded, still looking in wonder at the store. They stepped inside, the store was dark and edgy, music blaring from the speakers and clothes lined the walls. They had a mix of dark and muted clothes and bright ones- it was perfect. Dawn picked up a sweater, holding it in her hands and feeling the soft material.

"Do you want it?" Amanda piped up, leaning over her shoulder. Dawn nodded, still looking over it in awe. Amanda gestured to hand the sweater to her which Dawn complied with. She asked her what kind of fit she wanted, oversized or a proper fit, and helped her pick out the right size. They repeated this process, Dawn picking out things that interested her and Amanda helping her find the correct sizing. She ended up with a mixture of darker and more colorful clothes, some skirts, and a few pairs of tights.

It was an hour or so later when they exited the store, Amanda carrying a majority of their bags. They continued to walk around, stopping at a few more stores to pick up some shoes and other items for her. They ended up back in the food court two hours later, slumped at a table, and finally finished.

"So...how did you afford all this? If you don't mind me asking. I assume this stuff is expensive, right?" Dawn piped up, looking at Amanda.

"Oh, I didn't. Sapphira did- she said I could borrow her card and pay her back."

"Sapphira? The same one who gave me the phone?"

Amanda nodded, "Same one- she's a good friend, you'll probably meet her sometime soon. We hang out a lot."

"What does she do? I mean she must make a lot of money."

Amanda shrugged. "None of us really know. We know she's involved in a lot of stuff, but we don't know why. She's a bit mysterious."

Dawn simply nodded, stretching in her chair. Amanda was looking around the court when her eyes lit up, suddenly standing up. "Wait here- I want you to try something. I'll be right back!" She watched as Amanda disappeared into the crowd of people, sitting there a bit confused. She fiddled a bit with her phone, still trying to get used to it.

Soon enough Amanda came back, two brown drinks in her hand. She pushed one of them toward Dawn as she sat down opposite of her. "Try it, I think you'll like it!"

Dawn took the cup from her, gingerly taking a sip. It tasted...sweet. Very sweet, but very good.

"What is this?"

"Brown sugar milk tea with boba pearls." Amanda grinned, sipping her own drink. "It's good, right? Oh, chew the pearls by the way. Don't choke." She softly laughed, Dawn soon learned what she meant when one of the pearls came up the straw. It was such a strange texture...so chewy...it was odd, but she liked it.

"It's certainly interesting...we don't have anything like this on my planet."

"It's gotten pretty popular here recently, so I'm not surprised. I'm glad you like it though. Do you guys have malls on your planet?"

Dawn shook her head. "Not really. Most of our shopping is done...well, I guess the equivalent would be online for you all. We order things and it sort of just...materializes."

"Whoa...that sounds handy. Wish we had something like that."

She shrugged, "I don't know. I like the socialization of it all. On my planet, we don't really go out much. Public places often serve one purpose, you don't go there to hang out, you know? It's much more formal."

"So...how do you hang out with your friends?"

"Honestly it's not super common. It's mostly just communicating, you don't usually regularly see people unless it's a partner or your family. That's why Jay is my closest friend, they're my cousin. Maybe I'll invite them down here when I get things set up...I'm sure they'd love it here."

Amanda frowned. "That's kind of sad. I couldn't imagine not hanging out with my friends."

"Yeah, that's why I'm so intrigued by Earth and humans. I wondered what it was like and honestly...I agree with you. It's so much more fun to go out for things. I used to only go out to go to school."

"Well, I'll just have to bring you along with me. Show you all the fun stuff we've got here." Amanda smiled, causing her to smile that as well. "I'll hold you to that."

-

The subway was much more calm on the ride back, Dawn's head on Amanda's shoulder and the bags strewn between their legs. Amanda's music softly played through the earbuds, the sound almost lulling Dawn to sleep. The exhaust from the day began to hit her, and Amanda had to practically tug her along back to the apartment.

"Don't go limp on me now, we're almost back!" She laughed, Dawn groaning in reply. They eventually made it home, the last thing Dawn remembered was napping on the couch while Amanda made dinner in the kitchen.

[billveusay]

I watched Gundam F91 and...

Well that sure was a movie. And that sure was Gundam. I won't take away from it the fact that it is certainly a Gundam movie.

Yeah, this one doesn't need five pages of analysis. If you didn't know, it was supposed to be a 50 episodes series, and was cut down to a 2 hours movie. So the runner has barely left the starting blocks and both of his legs just snapped backwards. I won't dwell too much on the many problems this causes because they're all pretty self-evident: The movie moves at 200kmh in a desperate rush to get all of its plot points across, many characters get introduced and die within ten minutes, and the remaining ones don't have nearly enough screen time to get developed beyond basic archetypes.

However, I've seen many people see the movie as a missed opportunity with a lot of potential and wish that we got an actual series out of it. But frankly I don't even believe that, because what we saw of the story was derivative as hell, even by Gundam standards. The space colony Side 3 Frontier IV declared its independence and renamed itself the Principality of Zeon Cosmo Babylonia, led by the noble Zabi Ronah family. The story starts when a small squad of mobile suits from Zeon Cosmo Babylonia attacks a colony of the federation. In the ensuing chaos, Amuro Ray Seabook Arno finds himself piloting a Gundam prototype developed by one of his parents, and joins the White Base Space Ark, a federation spaceship crewed by rookies and civilians. During the attack, the young blonde friend of the protagonist Sayla Mass Cecily Fairchild meets her brother Char Dorel who's a part of Zeon Cosmo Babylonia, and it is revealed that Sayla Cecily is actually Artesia Deikun Berah Ronah, heir to Zeon Cosmo Babylonia.

And the goal of the villains is to push humanity into space so that they may become Newtypes by exterminating its population on earth. And the leader of the antagonist faction is an ambiguously sympathetic old man whereas his son is the real bad guy, a complete arsehole who makes big evil speeches...

I won't deny that it has some good elements. The old guy is an semi... quarter-interesting study of the banality of evil and the way the upper class justifies its oppression of the people (whoops, feeling my French communist genes flare up), having the aforementioned parent of the protagonist be a part of the crew is an idea with potential, especially since his sister is also there. And the fight scenes and Mobile Suits are cool but because everything is so rushed and crammed into a movie runtime, identifying which mobile suit belongs to whom is impossible. All in all, nothing that will make me post #ReleaseTheTominoCut on twitter. When it's not ripping off its own franchise, it's ripping off Star Wars, with budget Darth Vader and totally-not-the-imperial-march.

So let's not dwell on it and move on to the visuals. Animation is excellent, so you can at least enjoy it on pure spectacle (though again, it's impossible to follow because there are so many mobile suits that we haven't been given time to clearly identify). As for the actual F91 design, it's close to greatness for me, but there are several details that bring it down a lot. Like the shoulder... wings ? Fins ? Flaps ? Anyway, they stick out in a way that feels wonky. And the big grate on its lower torso is just a slab of visual noise. I do like it's animation when it goes super, great use of after-images.

I think that's it. As of writing, those reviews are close to catching up to what I'm currently watching, so I'm trying to step up the pace. However, I think the next one will take a while to review nonetheless. Because it's Unicorn. And Unicorn is a mess.

See you there!

My gundam reviews :

> Hathaway's Spark > Mobile Suit Gundam > Gundam Zeta > 0083: Stardust Memory > 0080: War in the Pocket > 8th MS Team > The Witch from Mercury > Gundam Thunderbolt > The Origin > Turn A Gundam > F91 > Gundam Unicorn > Gundam 00 > MS IGLOO > Gundam Narrative > Iron-Blooded Orphans

[luceliv]

part two agatha drabble is real. right now. watch out

i don’t have any more words. agatha gets pretty privileges for her evil shit, why else would marie stick around?!!

“Welcome! To the one place miss Maximoff won’t be able to touch,” Agatha descended to her basement with all the pride of an evil queen. One arm extended in front of her in a gracious gesture while the other was hooked around one of Marie’s. The young lady had been freed from the spell for quite some time, her true form finally revealed with the grand wings sprouted from her back. Slate blue feathers littered the steps behind them.

It was the 80s, sometime in the decade that no one could pin down. Color finally returned to Westview, albeit a bit too saturated. The basement was the one place that wasn’t changed, like ancient ruins finally unearthed, built around stone columns uncharacteristic to the sweet suburban charm of her false home. Alcoves were cemented into the ragged walls, framed with thick roots and filled with candles and cursed artifacts. Other than the thin rays of sunlight shining from an unseen window, a faint purple glowed from odd runes carved in the circular ceiling.

Agatha had seen through the spell since the start, but she’s finally got someone else in her home freed from the hex. When she reaches the bottom step, she wrangles the mutant forward and shoves her in. Marie’s wings flare out, buffering her face forward fall as they flap fruitlessly. Agatha just steps around her, withdrawing her hands and slamming the door atop the stairs shut as Marie landed with a thud.

“Whoops!“ The witch giggles as she steps around the slowly recovering Marie, “Now, don’t touch anything, we don’t need you getting any more roughed up.”

Marie’s wings rose first, twitching some as she huffed and crawled to stand. The backless dress she was given ripped at its bottom from her tumble. Agatha just walked right past, eyes set on a heavily bound book. When the mutant finally rises, she spins on her toes to face her.

“Since when was this-“ Marie began to speak after helping herself get up with one of the stone pillars, but Agatha cuts her off.

“Mmh at least five of your lifetimes,” The witch chuckles, her fingers brushing past the aged, almost yellowed pages of her odd spell book. Small sparks rose from her touch, before the pages flickered into flames, causing Marie to jolt up and hold onto a nearby vine that crept up the stone. “Just kidding! I only fixed the place up once I got here, isn’t it cute?”

The mutant steps forward wearily, the dark tips of her wings gently dragging across the stoney floor. Agatha just smiles, beckoning Marie forward with one hand as the Darkhold’s violet flame crawls up her arm and billows with its smoke.

“I’ve been up there this whole time.. Why haven’t you shown me this?” Marie mutters her question, worried that a loud tone may upset the witch.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you yet! Like I said, I don’t need you touching anything.”

At the faintest flick of her wrist, the smoke bursts to the ceiling, dimming to more of a mist. Even with a majority rising, much of it shifts to a faint lavender and creeps over Agatha’s shoulders.

“But you’ve helped me so, so much, dear,” The witch adds when Marie steps up, just within arms reach, “And I think you deserved this!”

Agatha’s hand was still outstretched, so when the mutant reached to take it, she grinned. Marie was free to leave, to go back to that perfect little life she had in Westview, but she kept sticking around. She had a new excuse every day: from “But I’d lose my mutation out there!” to “You’re better than those people.” Agatha didn’t mind, she didn’t even have a say in those excuses, Marie’s presence only helped her little guise. When that trembling, clawed hand took hers, the mist sparked back to life, its lavender strands becoming deeper violets. It even shifts in Agatha’s eyes, once a mesmerizing brown, now a striking maroon tinged with purple.

Marie’s own gold eyes widened, her brows furrowing as her wings tensed. Her hand is tugged forward, like a lover being ushered for a dance. She has to hold her wings shut so they don’t brush the book’s glowing pages. Agatha holds the small of Marie’s back with the hand enveloped in soft smoke, her other still being held, as if they were waltzing. Marie lifted her free hand, too nervous to touch any part of the witch, a noticeable reaction that made the other woman chuckle.

The mist slowly rose, around the base of the mutant’s wings and just grazing her back. She could barely feel it, shuddering slightly, before it reached like a hand through her hair and around her throat. Agatha took a step back, drawing Marie in with her, before spinning in a flourish. “Oh.. Isn’t this just wonderful!”

“What- What even is that book-“

“Don’t fret, dear, it’s just some spells!” Agatha took a flourishing spin, bringing Marie closer to the book, but with her back turned to it. The book’s runes still glowed, and the smoke that had snuck around Marie’s neck seemed to connect back to its source.

She feels herself be pulled back, squeaking faintly before Agatha dips her in their dance as to not make her choke. Her hair falls back, and the witch’s falls forward like a curtain over their close faces. Her wings sweep the floor, falling weaker from their original tense closure. Marie can’t see it, but the Darkhold was reacting to her presence, it ever so slightly pulled her in, a hook to a fish. The mist looked like it wouldn’t even be tangible, but there it was, holding around her throat and even under her hair. It glowed a bit more, her only clue being the reflection in the witch’s eyes.

“Juuuust some spells,” Agatha croons, her voice dipping just like they had in their dance. A step forward, one last step, and Marie’s back is up against the cold stone wall. Her head is just over the open pages, and she can feel an intense warmth from them. The whole page seemed to be glowing purple now, and the smoke constricted even more- Or that was just Agatha’s hands tightening.

Marie held back a small whine, before slamming her eyes shut and almost feeling her foot slip out from below her. She finally lets her eyes open when she feels her hair brush against the book below her, and the first thing she’s met with is the witch’s cunning smile.

“Scaredy cat…” Agatha mutters, looking down her nose at the mutant she held. There’s another little tug from the book, like it was trying to envelop her in its power. The smoke was beginning to shift, from black with a few sparks to an almost overwhelming iris. Marie tried to look to her side, but when that failed, she made eye contact with the witch.

“There we go!”

That was a grave mistake. One last tug from the mist around her throat, and it’s like something snapped inside of her. Her breath caught, her wings fell limp and her hands weakened. The same mist that surrounded her throat burst from the book, grasping onto her shoulders and wings like hands. Agatha doesn’t let up her hold, though. She lets go of Marie’s hand, which falls to her side, and holds the back of her head, where the mist hadn’t touched. That same color grew in Marie’s gaze, shifting that sharp yellow to an almost ashy pink as the colors mixed. A gentle haze rises over her thoughts, dimming them with an overwhelming warmth- Just for a moment.

The mist draws back in the mist, practically sucking it back into its ink. It lets Agatha pull her mutant back up, letting her falter forward and lean on her. Marie’s eyes gently shut, her wings still twitching faintly. It was an odd spell, the subject nearest to the book would have a piece of its magic intertwined with their soul. It would end up helping Marie, but until then, it benefit Agatha, making the mutant just a bit more susceptible to any magic.

“Atta girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it..?”