#I know you reuse them too

[emily-mooon]

While I hop through all of my art wips, have this ship chart I made for nordegrim!

#these are mostly based on my headcanons so take that into account when looking at this #feel free to make your own version for them if you have different headcanons for them :] #I’d love to see different interpretations of their relationship #for once in my life I actually finished one of these #probably because I’m not trying to make it look fancy #btw the Neil sketch is one of my favourite drawings I made of him #the sketch’s were made for another one that I never finished so why not reuse them here! #I also added the song I associate with them the most here cause music heavily influences my headcanons and other fan stuff i make :] #not too mush though might I add #I put both of the ages they canonically have cause i didn’t know which one to put down #apologies for my somewhat messy handwriting :} #gotta say this cause it is a bit hard to read sometimes #scott pilgrim #anyways I’m gonna stop rambling in the tags now so it doesn’t turn into a paragraph #or a very long one at that #scott pilgrim comic #scott pilgrim takes off #young neil #neil nordegraf #stacey pilgrim #nordegrim

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Sometimes I feel very sad that I didn’t just focus on one creative skill. I look at my art some days and go I wish I’d spent all my time making only that, because that way it would look better and I’d do more and it wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t write very well because my art would be amazing and I’d be able to make the stuff I really want to and maybe even get a job related to it and I wouldn’t feel like so much time was wasted. And often times it really does feel like you’re wasting time and everything is telling you to just pick something to focus on so it can mean something and you can never seem to pick one of anything.

And then other days I feel like an absolute GOD. Anyone else able to write your own fic and then draw art for it just because you can? Can you make an edit/amv after writing a silly little analysis post on the show/character that is so perfectly on beat and fits the lyrics and with transitions so slapping you get chills while watching? Can you write a short silly ditty on the guitar about how you’re feeling using the eight chords know and belt it out only a little bit off key then do a choppy little animation of your sona singing it?

I may not be the most skilled at all of the above, and it can be a little lonely to be a one man band who doesn’t play half as well as a lot of people out there, but when your power goes out or your wifi dies or you have a day off, everyone else is busy and you’re alone...

you play the best gosh dang music in existence

#knox rambles #feeling some kinda way lately o7 #these kinda vibes come back every once in a while #just gotta remind myself that ten year old me would go insane over the fact I can do what i can do #even if I'm not the best out there I am sure the best me out there #and that's pretty cool #i may only know one strum pattern on guitar and half a dozen chords at best #i may not be very good with punctuation and grammar while writing and I reuse words too much #I may do my art all leaning a little to the left too much and proportioned weirdly #I may export my amv's wrong so they're not on beat or forget good audio that would have made it REALLY great #I may write analysis's that are a little biased and look back on them and cringe a bit #I may only be able to animate the simpliest and shortest things and then go months even years at a time without animating #I may struggle to do animatics for what feels like no reason even if i want to so badly #but I can do all that stuff #I can write i can read and I can draw I can play guitar a bit i can sing I can make animatics animations amv's #and wow that's pretty incredible if you ask me #rambling rambling zero thoughts head empty YEET HGSDFLKJSDF #creative insecurities #they always sneak up on you a bit hglksjdfsdf #pretty safe to say I wouldn't be a creative if I didn't feel inadequate every person to ever create usually feels some kinda way ghsdflk;jsd #lays down #woo #hoping I can get back into the swing of being creative #things been pretty rough at home but I miss making stuff #ANYWAY HOPE Y'ALLS HAVING A FIRE DAY

[sea-jello]

in the play when christine sings "jeremy" its the same tune as when "christine" is sung and i think thats really neat

#something something the tune representing jeremy being in love with christine #and christine using the same tune to 'profess her love' to jeremy #and also people (the squip) using the same tune aka jeremys love for christine to manipulate him?? #something about musical theatre using music as symbolism makes me a lil silly lil goofy #especially when they repeat them in a different setting or time and you know the meaning of the tune changed #or its a throwback or reflection or whatever but THE MEANING IS CHANGED #LIKE THEY REUSE THE TUNE FROM A SAD SONG AND USE IT WHEN THE CHARACTER IS ACCEPTING THEMSELF OR WHATEVER #LYRICS TOO #i want to say for forever and the finale from deh as an example #REPETITION WHEN THE MEANING CHANGES OVER TIME 💳💥💳💥💳💥 #MUSIC SYMBOLISM 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥 #im so normal about this #anyways #bmc #be more chill #jeremy heere #christine canigula #im always so LATE to popular things its so annoying #ill have to make the fucking content myself

[lexicog]

traitor to the cause forgets national holiday every year KILL HIM

#just realized i wrote may instead of marsh lmao. fuck it #trans day of visibility #trans day of eating food #tdov #tdov 2024 #transgender day of visibility #trans #transgender #lgbt #gay #my art #another year eh #still in pretransition purgatory (get me tf out!!!) #idk man past year's been bad. last time i showered was july i'm goin 9 months strong 9 months weak 9 months decrepit #i manage to go through the motions with not much else in the way of progress. eat sleap shit piss rinse reuse recycle #trans day of eating food is shaky too this year. just found out yesterday i can't eat a snack anymore that i've liked since i was a kid #discovered a new love for green beans though. everything in balance #with my living situation getting more unsafe i've been thinking a lot about asking my neighbor if i can stay with him and his family #cause i don't like... see people other than them anymore so i don't know anyone else i can ask lol #and maybe i can get my shit together and start transitioning if i get out..... it's the least i need to do anyways #at least i gotta ask if he would be willing to oversee my funeral in the event of it cause i do nnnnot trust my next of kin with that shit #go watch youtube “Protecting Trans Bodies in Death” by Caitlin Doughty. contains important info for anyone really but #especially so for the titular transengendered individual #write your will... OK? #it doesn't have to be a bummer do it with a friend make it a girls night boys night hotties sleepover #death mention cw #wish i had more to say on the topic this year that wasn't a downer. i'll see what the next year holds #and hey... if a guy like me isn't giving up a motherfucker like you sure as hell shouldn't... adios & bon voyage my compatriots. SALUTE

[gaymakima]

Two theories I have (well, one theory and a headcanon) regarding Raven.

Headcanon: Raven's kindred links can influence her own emotional state, depending on the intensity of the other person's emotions.

Theory: Raven left to spy on Salem for Ozpin, with the specific purpose of getting close enough to Salem to create a kindred link with her. This plan succeeded. The mysterious portal in the V9 flashback was to Salem. Raven spent enough time by Salem's side to bond with her. Kindred links can only be broken when the other person is dead.

Conclusion headcanon: Raven, as we see her in canon, has been emotionally linked to a whole range of people, none of who have particularly positive opinions on her that don't come with a caveat (namely Taiyang and Qrow being heartbroken and bitter, Yang's feelings of abandonment, Ozpin's guilt, Vernal might be the only exception but, uh... decoy). And then you add in Salem's emotions to the mix, which have been stewing in Raven for over a decade by the time we see her.

Bonus: if kindred links can only be broken when the other person is dead, and Summer has turned into a Hound, what would Raven feel from that?

#rwby #raven branwen #salem #rwby theory #more of a headcanon but eh whatever #I think kindred link is a semblance that just gets wilder and wilder the more I think about it #can raven choose who she bonds with or does it not happen on command? #if she wants to make a bond with someone does she have to force herself to spend time with that person until the link forms #to know them to the point of caring for them? #how did she know to save yang's life in the train. is this part of her kindred link too? #finally. her portals. ik it's just an animation reuse most likely but why do her portals and similar Grimm-related things look the same? #for what reason does she have the grimm mask. besides hiding maiden eyes. when did she get it #why does all of this. shakes raven. WHY ARE YOU STILL HAUNTING MY MIND AFTER 9 FUCKING YEARS. #my post #anyways i love raven goodnight

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

its so weird to read some of my old fics (do NOT do it but i'm just being hypothetical rn) and reading it. like who even was this person?? i completely was in a haze back in 2020. i literally was posting 3 chapters a day. A DAY. what in the WORLD was that shit.

anyway i remembered some STUPID sappy shit and i didnt remember if i'd put it into a fic or not BUT I FOUND IT.

She and Hope had been dating in secret for months anyway, and any attempt to go talk to Ryan only filed her disposition of displeasure upon knowing that she couldn’t tell anyone, Molly especially, it destroyed herself mentally. They couldn’t really go anywhere near the school, always having to lie to everyone about having projects together when Molly wasn’t around them. It’d consisted with 9 PM - 2 AM intervals of being able to actually see each other. Hope would sneak through her small bedroom window with a portable record player and whatever she had gotten from the vintage record store downtown, and Amy would always fall asleep around eleven because of her internal clock. She would always wake up to find a single sticky note stuck on the edge of her desk whenever she woke up to her alarm the next morning. One of them, Amy still had tucked inside of her phone case, a heavily detailed human heart, with blue and red ink sketched onto a neon pink sticky note, there was a caption that headed the small paper reading the phrase over every now and again makes her almost melt every time. “You have my heart.”

yeah idk why the fuck but i thought of this fucking idea again today and i was like "omg did i ever put that heart note thing in a fic???" yeah you fucking did.

all that to say ME AND WHO???? imagine. thats so fucking.... RAHHHH.

#NOT TOH FANFIC #see this is why i write fanfic. to enact some gay ass shit like this. #the fucking STICKY NOTE WITH A DRAWING OF A HUMAN HEART AND SAYING “YOU HAVE MY HEART” I AM ON THE FLOOR. #*sighs* sucks i cant reuse it on lumity though. #my friend making me realize i actually have rizz but am just too much of a disaster to actually understand cues with people #its a MESS. im just all over the place. i literally ranted to THE SAME FRIEND yesterday (or the day before??) abt some girl jesus. #anyway i remember writing A LOT OF POETRY back in hs about this one girl and then the same girl i got to talk to-- #--my first actual conversation with her i blurted out that i wanted to shave my head. she was like.... oooooo god i was A MESS #still slid into her school dms during covid and was like “haha guess what i actually mf did???” anyway all that to say underlying dysphoria #they're nonbinary now too and i kinda ghosted them like a complete idiot :(. its been two years or so but i still think of them... a lot... #actually i have more lore about this person and its like istg they actually really liked me but i could not pick it up. #we had such SUCH good chemistry and vibes. n they were really pretty. ughhhhhh. #anyway yeah idk crushes are weird sometimes. the universe knows how unstoppable id be with a partner #i feel like i was the reason they were able to find themself and their identity because when we were talking i always encouraged them #and told them to do what felt right. im glad they did. i think sometimes that brings me peace. like i served a purpose. #STILL showed them toh. STILL SHOWED THEM TOH. #we were talking about amity LMAO “this green haired girl seems interesting” SHE SO WAS. #...yeah i wish i could text them but i kinda probably fucked it up. #shitposting shit #idk what this post is i just wanted to talk about this dumb sticky note thing because im rotating it in my brain and remembering how #mentally ill i was back in 2020 #talking into the void yk how it isssss

[teeth-kid]

were "[insert media] characters as vines/etc" videos ever good or was i just not paying attention

#gonna be a hater for a sec sorry #it feels like people just pick their favorite ones and slap the characters over them #instead of picking ones that actually remind them of the character #i mean i get when hyperfixation makes pretty much everything remind you of them but so often now it feels like theres zero thought process #i know this is a really dumb thing to be annoyed by #idk where this idea even comes from. i mean its kinda perfect cause its like blorbo-flavored funny clips comp. but how do you fuck it up #its the same with incorrect quotes like when you reuse the same ones for every media it usually has nothing to do with the characters #you just put their names on there to feel something #ultimately it just obscures the characters' actual personalities if anything #and ive been guilty of it too! i'll tweak characters to fit them into something funny i thought of #because its so tempting to apply your hyperfixation to everything #but may we not forget the reason we're here in the first place. canon. thank you #teeths #oh also this is not about any specific fandom ive seen it several times and i keep falling for it

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

another thing we don't talk about enough: just how fucking weird van helsing number one (1)/lawrence/abraham/j van helsing/the one from horror and brides is. he's meant to be the Straight-Laced, Level-Headed Voice of Reason but he's also kind of a weirdo???

i've always been struck by the scene in Horror of Dracula (1958) when a servant or whatever comes into van helsing's office after vh is studying audio recordings of himself while reading jonathan's diary. vh is all 'send this letter out tomorrow :^)' and the guy is like 'Ok. Bro. But were you just talking to someone?? i could've sworn i heard you talking to someone 👀' and then. Instead of giving him the simple answer that he was listening to a recording of himself. no biggie that's not that weird lol. van helsing instead says 'Of Course I Was :^) I was talking to Myself :^)' totally straight faced like that's a normal thing to say. and the guy is like 'O_O ok. kinda weird but ok.' bc that isn't a normal thing that people do I Guess. and they never touch on it again. i assume it's in reference to seward's voice recordings in the book? but it's a weird thing none the less.

much less weird but still notable as Something We Don't Talk About Enough: later when arthur asks 'oh but what happened to jonathan's body???' vh is all 'it's ok he was cremated :^) he told me like a week ago that that's what he would've wanted 🙏 rip lol' which makes sense enough bc he doesn't want arthur and mina to find out yet about the whole Jonathan Became A Vampire So I Had To Stake Him To Death thing. but idk i think it's funny to imagine van helsing running a bunch of scenarios through his head trying to figure out how to make jonathan's sudden death without a corpse sound plausible.

Van Helsing is meant to seem like the Normal Guy™ but he's also fucked up basically and like *twirls my hair* he could be read as a subversive masculine hero type, couldn't he? whether accidentally or not, he kinda fits the bill, doesn't he??

#he also stole that guy's jacket right. he stole a dude's jacket in brides didn't he. #like he is literally wearing arthur's jacket in brides right? p sure it was arthur's which means a) he stole it b) was given it or c) they #just reused it from the first movie without noticing and/or thinking about the implications. #hammer #dracula #myevilposts #Also!! this post is just scraping the surface really bc i didn't touch at all on his relationships to marianne or drac bc he's weird with #them as well ofc. #and also vh just kinda swoops in and is like 'Listen to me. I Know What I Am Talking About Definitely. Do as i say mwah :^) or else bitches #might die Ok :^) even if my methods seem. Unorthodox you just gotta hear me out Ok :^)' #and like i know it's bc they can't find out until later that Vampires are afoot and vh is Going To tell them all eventually #but it's funny that he's just like 'Trust Me' bc he thinks their dispositions are too fragile or whatever and that they won't believe him. #he's a kooky sad old man in the book but in at least the first two hammer movies he's a vaguely fucked up middle-aged guy. #based on peter's actual personality apparently. that says sooo much about them both damn babygirl i wanna study him like a frog.

[good-beans]

Fallen Python… he’s based off that ending where Forsyth dies. So ow. This is mostly in game terms for, some reason

i think a green bow unit because… green, Forsyth… why not? He can counterattack close up, the bow shifting into a lance for flavour.

Anyway not sure on his design except for a bit of Forsyth’s armour acting as that one paldron he has.

One of his positive quotes would be him about to say i’m a Forsyth to be reckoned with!! Only to cut himself off partway through in confusion.

Wow its… hard to put these kinda things into words 😅. Hope you’re having a good day

YEAH OUCH 😭😭😭

Alright but I’m obsessed with this -- he takes on parts of Forsyth’s colors/armor and parts of his personality and even parts of his speech... anything to keep his friend from disappearing for good....

I especially like the angst of Python picking up on his quotes. I always pictured that version of Python clamming up and being hauntedly quiet after Forsyth’s death, but I really like the idea that he keeps talking. After a lifetime of joking to Forsyth to shut up and quit nagging him, now he’s the one doling out the same advice and bad puns and catching himself halfway through. Much to think about 

I also love the fighting style thing. Not only does having both ranged and close attacks make for an interesting unit, it’s also way more dangerous -- and likely directly connected to his death. (On a different note, I think a green/blue lance/bow would be a really cool looking weapon!)

Thank you so much for telling me!! That’s such a awesome and deliciously painful idea asdhfs, and I thought it was put into words well!  I hope your day is great too :))

#growing up as a poor craftsman I can see Python knowing how to reuse/repurpose more than just the pauldron too #whether it’s using wood from his lance to fix something up or threads from his clothing to mend his own - he refuses to get rid of anything #and the bladed bow! #thank you again! #im SAD but its such a cool concept for him omg :0 #an uncanny combination of both of them together... #i cant promise timeliness but i do genuinely want to draw this #if you dont mind i will 👀 #ask #fe echoes #fe python #fe forsyth

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

��Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards #he got his GED in this one boys #let Tim fucking age #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny the tired college student #bamf danny phantom #siren au??? #sea cryptic Danny #bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work #terrible why do I do this to myself #the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself #Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days #sea cryptic! danny au

[ultravioletlesbian]

i am very aware of people thinking shaving is the same as washing and so they dont wash their legs.

#also i read someone once say they think using washcloths are gross #bc they thought you reused dirty ones #also that it feels too rough #ive bought these packs of washcloths for like less than five bucks. i use two per shwoer one for body one for face and i never use them more #than once. two each day laundry end of week #and i first rub soap on my body/face AND THEN lather up the cloth and start scrubbing (not hard) i feel that helps with the pain/feeling #like its too rough #if anyone doesnt know that <-- #i was not taught. anything. had to learn this myself and online #my mom thinks kids are just born knowing things or some shit

[cherubfae]

carrying you to bed || hazbin/helluva x reader

With Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Angel Dust, Husk, Loona, & Blitzø

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff

Alastor

He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at you with slow blinks. "My love, surely that can't be comfortable for you" He has warned you time and time again not to spread yourself too thin with your tasks. Alastor appreciates how much of a good work ethic you have, but what is it worth if you don't have the strength to walk to your room? He picks you up as gently as he can, melding into shadow as he pops into your room. Carefully laying you down, Alastor will cover you up and with a gentle pat on your head before he takes his leave. Perhaps, next time he'll be tempted to rest beside you.

Lucifer

No wonder you hadn't answered him when he called your name. Here you were, fast asleep on his deep red chaise lounge using your folded arms as pillows. Lucifer picks you up bridal-style half-wishing you were awake so that you could see how strong he is! Another time, he thinks. Your rest is much more important than his ego (for now). "Sleep well, honey." He grins, wiggling beneath the sheets like an inch warm, his eyes sparkling with admiration. Placing a kiss to your head, Lucifer is quick to fall asleep.

Charlie

Honestly, she really does try her best not to squeal at the sight of you. You've been working insanely hard for the hotel-- it's no wonder you're so pooped out! She's careful with wiggling one arm beneath your back and hooking the other beneath your knees. She'll carry you to whichever room is closest: yours or hers. Maybe she'll be able to convince you to move into her suite soon. "Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest, honey?? I love you so much!"

Angel Dust

"Awww, sweets! Lookit ya! All tuckered out." He cooed in a hushed whisper, lightly booping your nose. His grin widens when it crinkles upwards. His middle set of arms pick you up, preferring to use his gloved ones to stroke back your hair softly. Leaning his cheek against your forehead, Angel carries you off to his room where an excited Fat Nuggets happily circles the bed in preparation for a lovely nap with his two favorite people.

Husk

Putting away the final glass beneath the bar's counter, his yellow eyes drift to your sleeping form at the end of the bar. You'd insisted on waiting for him to finish but all that work promoting the hotel on foot, searching for any sinners ready to be redeemed was a hard task. Husk fought back a smile. "You really do care about this stuff, dont'cha?" He asks despite knowing you won't answer. "Let's get ya to bed." Husk stretches his wings with a sigh before they fall slack. He lifts you into his arms and makes the trek up the stairs.

Blitzø

He'll bitch and groan about it, but he also won't let anyone else touch you when you're sleeping. Blitz will make some claims about how the person trying to touch you probably has cooties or a viral infection or something. Not happening. He's quick to scoop you up into his arms, eyes narrowed slightly, before scampering off to his room with you. "No, you don't get to fuckin' touch them with your gross unwashed hands, Moxxie-- yeah, that's right I saw you! We are living in post-Covid times, mister! Ack, no, leave 'em! I'll carry them just fine thank you!"

Loona

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

She smirks when she sees you. You look so sweet and cute, curled up into a ball. But that position can't be good on your spine, nor sleeping on Blitz's sad depression sofa. Loona bends down to lift you into her arms, pushing open her bedroom with her elbow and closing it shut with her foot. A nap with you sounded perfect. "You sure do look cute when you're tired, babe." She nuzzles your cheek with her nose.

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #blitz x reader #loona x reader #cherubfae 2024

[kisses4reid]

convenient | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - studying while working at a convenience store is easier that thought when a regular happens to be a genius.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

warnings - school work, that always scares me. they’re the same age!!! early 20s. mention of condoms.

edit - bc this is getting so much love, i’m opening a taglist for part 2!!! just comment or put in a req to join the ‘convenient’ taglist 🫶

the chime of the door didn’t phase you, the creaks and squeaks of the store slowly becoming one with you. flipping onto the next page of your biology textbook, something that was unnecessarily expensive, you shake your hand to get rid of the cramp you slowly became aware of.

it was only when a wave of man’s cologne and a plastic bag stood in front of you that you ripped your eyes off of your books.

he was tall, skinny, had long(ish) hair and looked amazing. there wasn’t really anything else to say, other than that the thin smile he displayed toward you made you smile back.

“just these for today?” you ask, fixing your posture and pushing some loose strands back to their place behind your ears.

“yes, thank you.” he says, voice as timid as his appearance. it was a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him as his long fingers slip through his wallet to find a debit card. “have a good night.”

your eyes return to your textbook as you go to erase an answer you had previous written, obviously wrong.

“the heads of the phospholipid bilayer are hydrophilic, not phobic.” he says. it surprised you, making you return to his gaze slowly before realising you should probably reply instead of staring at the man.

“oh- yeah, thanks. i caught that it’s just, i guess i’ve been staring at the same words for so long i can’t differentiate them.” you give a small fake laugh as he nods, giving you a long look before coughing and leaving promptly. he leaves with his bag, and his hands fiddling with each other.

you can barely focus after that. customers come and go, and although you’ve only been doing the late shift for a week, this encounter with the unknown man couldn’t leave your mind. the way he dressed, his smell, his voice and how he corrected you (which would totally annoy you usually). you hoped he would return.

and he did. three days later, this time even later than the last.

you were stuck in a dark purple sweater, the aircon in the store blasting cold air that you were too lazy to fix. and although the air flipped pages of notes and questions, you were still stuck in a trance.

the blasting aircon blew a wind of mens cologne this time, it smelt like wood. your eyes glanced up from your books and trailed the familiar man, noticing how he was reusing the plastic bag from days before.

he returned to the checkout with apples, a 3 minute cannelloni, and a bag of coffee. he was now the one trailing you, “where did Latrice go?” you look up, chuckling a bit,

“Latrice is getting paid by her daughter-in-law to babysit the twins,” you reply, surprised you were willing to tell him so much information. he could be a stalker for all you know. or just a regular, obviously that’s way more likely. “trust me, i miss her as much as you do. $14.98.”

he nodded with a small smile and sliced his card down the side of the card reader.

you searched for him now, only after two encounters you were already craving some sort of human interaction at work. usually you avoided it since the only other ‘regulars’ were old men and mean teenagers. you had switched to writing a biology report on your computer, the sound of the keyboard almost covering the sound of the door bell.

a bag of apples, a 2 minute lasagne, a bag of coffee, and a banana muffin.

“big night?”

“uh- what?”

“you got a banana muffin. i thought you were starting to become predictable.” you bagged his things as he chuckled, looking over you and your laptop. you noticed only because you were also looking at him, “biology report. wanna read it?” you joked, but he didn’t catch that part.

now he was behind the register, sat on your wheelie stool reading and editing your report while walking you through everything he was changing. you didn’t understand most, but you were just happy to stay around him. you weren’t even scared of Old Alan, the guy who only buys cucumbers and condoms. nobodies ever asked him, don’t think anyone wants to know.

“what’s your word limit?”

“3500.”

“only 3500?” he gave you a raised eyebrow, voice getting slightly higher. he coughed, “sorry, that’s nearly impossible.”

you sigh, “i know… i’m y/n by the way. thought you should know who your helping cheat.”

“i’m not helping you cheat, i’m just… editing,” he hit backspace a few times with a lowered bottom lip, “my names spencer.”

you smiled and crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. spencer. yeah, that sounded nerdy enough.

pt. 2

#spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x yn #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader

[dramaticteenagepoetry]

Different people have different thoughts

Height differences about a foot above

And all the other poets in the world

Write like they would like to be heard

With a message and a confession

But what have I written — what do I write?

I write lyrics with empty melodies

I write myself into a tragedy

#inspired by a poem i read about writting selfishly #it was about romance but it really struck with me yknow #i wrote on the margins 'i use mine to cry' #anyway! people seem to think that they hve a right to your talent likw you know how people will ask artist to see their art?? #people have asked me to write them poems and im like?? no?? and their like WHY?? #anyway those last two lines are from an older poem i just thought it was too good not to reuse #should read more of my poems #thts for me and you btw #rered your shit!! sometimes there somthih good there

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,804

Notes: This is going to be a good one you guys 💙 (yes I know I have a fic titled this already but it’s too good not to reuse, they’re not related btw)

_________________________________________

“I think that’s the last one,” you sigh, setting down a cardboard box labeled Living Room on the stack in the middle of the floor. It’s not heavy—filled with decorative pillows for the cheap futon couch shoved haphazardly against the wall—but the tower of boxes sways precariously and your roommate, Feyre, darts forward to reorganize them from before they all go tumbling down.

You and your roommate had been very organized at the start of your move, putting boxes into piles for which rooms they belonged to, but as the hot sun beamed down and the temperature outside rose, so did your tempers. The process ended with trying to get everything into your new fourth floor apartment as quickly as possible, which was a nearly impossible feat, due to the slow moving elevator.

Feyre sighs, hands on her hips as she surveys the mess of boxes. Neither of you packed lightly—a mistake you’d made the year previous too, and promised not to make again—the both of you refused to hire a moving service, intent on the fact that you could do all the heavy lifting yourselves. 

That definitely had been a mistake.

Panting a little, Feyre shoves the strands of gold-brown hairs clinging to her forehead away, sticky with sweat. The hairs at her nape curl away from her neck, and you’re so glad that she grew out those awful bangs over the summer. Now you don’t have to listen to her complain about how they’d be plastered to her head with sweat. The loose collar of her cropped shirt is damp, and she uses the hem to wipe at the perspiration beading at her hairline. “Fucking finally,” she moans, “I need a drink.”

“Alcoholic or energy?” you tease, but it’s not funny. You’re drained, and all you want to do is collapse on the navy futon that barely fits two, no matter how uncomfortable it is. But you’re hot, clothes irritating your skin from where they’re glued with sweat and your arms and legs burn with effort. A cold shower, tall glass of something icy, and a few hours napping will do you well. A grimace works its way onto your red face, “Tell me there’s air conditioning in this place.”

“Already on,” Feyre sighs, stalking into the kitchen. You follow after her, dodging boxes, and watch as she rips open the refrigerator door and shoves her head inside. It’s completely empty and you wince, knowing that it’s going to be a long weekend while you go shopping and unpack everything before the fall semester starts in a week.

You want to stop by the local art supply too, to gather the last of the material you need for your classes this year. It’s probably why you and Feyre have so many boxes; half of the ones adorning your apartment are stuffed with art supplies: brushes and paints of all varieties from oils to acrylics, graphite pencils and kneaded erasers, canvases both blank and filled. You swear there’s even an entire box dedicated to sketchbooks filled with random doodles and scribbled ideas for assignments that never turned into anything great. Feyre hadn’t been happy when she’d seen you’d left that box for her to carry up.

When Feyre’s had her fill of the crisp air, she hands you a bottle of water from the freezer. It’s nowhere near as cold as you’d like it yet. You’d run into the gas station to get a few bottles and candy bars while she filled up the tank of the U-Haul for your last stretch or the drive. It hadn’t occurred to either of you to grab something with more sustenance until this very moment.

“Ugh,” you groan, choking down the room-temperature water. It helps a little to soothe your parched throat, but nowhere near enough. “Do you have any money left in your account? We should Door Dash something for dinner, and call it an early night.”

“An early night?” Feyre retorts, making a face as she takes a sip of her own water. “We have a lot of unpacking to do. And our beds aren’t even set up yet.” 

“Fuck us,” you sigh, leaning against the marble. The stone is cool where it seeps through your thin shirt, and you ache to rip off your clothing and press your burning skin to it in an attempt to cool yourself off. “Let’s just find the boxes with the pillows and blankets and sleep in the living room, Fey. C’mon, it’ll be like when we were young again! Except now we’re old enough to buy alcohol.” You waggle your eyebrows at your roommate and she cracks a wry grin. “Well, almost old enough, but those fake ID’s Tarquin got us work like a charm anyway.”

“Fine,” Feyre relents, “Dibs on first shower, though.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

While Feyre uses all of the hot water, despite it being nearly ninety degrees outside—blasphemous for the end of August in the middle of Southern California—you take the chance to move the U-Haul from where you’d double-parked it outside of your new apartment building. Thankfully, you and Feyre had saved up enough money from working at an Art Camp for children this summer to have both of your cars shipped to school. It was cheaper to rent a truck and move all of your belongings yourselves than to drive down and let a moving company do it, plus, you and Feyre had wanted to road trip this summer but didn’t have the funds. You both had decided there was no better time for it—until you could properly afford one—than this.

You scroll aimlessly through your social media on the way down, the elevator so slow and creaky that you and Feyre opted to take the stairs for most of your journey. Bigger things like your beds, the futon, and the tv had been squashed into the tiny elevator and taken up with prayers it wouldn’t break down. You can’t help but glance up at the certificate that says the elevator is in running order until its next inspection in two years. 

“Is that forged, George Brown?” you mutter, squinting at the paper displayed in the corner. It’s frayed at the edges and yellowing, so you’re not all that sure this elevator has been inspected when it says it has.

It comes to a jerky halt that makes you sway when it hits the lobby. It’s as nice a building as you can afford on your budget, but the both of you will have to find part-time jobs as soon as school starts up, so that you have money to buy alcohol and food and supplies. Feyre’s older sister, Nesta, had lived here with her friends Gwyn and Emerie during their undergrad years, but they’ve moved on from shitty apartment buildings riddled with horny college students to renting a quaint house in town while working on their masters degrees.

When the doors to the elevator slide open you slip out as fast as possible, a shudder working its way up your spine. You wonder how many times it’s broken down, and you’d hate to be in there alone if something like that happened. Maybe you’ll take the stairs from now on unless you’re with someone.

The lobby of the building is small. There’s a front desk in which no one ever sits, as if the building used to be sophisticated once upon a time and a doorman used to occupy the space. Mailboxes pinned to the wall line the area behind the counter, and there sits a garbage can stuffed full with envelopes and more likely than not empty bottles of alcohol and take-away, maybe even a used condom or two.

It’s muggy down here, more so than your apartment that the landlord hadn’t turned on the air conditioning when he knew you’d be showing up today. Whatever, you hadn’t had to see the greasy man, he’d left the keys on the counter for you and Feyre to find when you’d arrived, and you were more than thankful for that.

You brush away some of the hairs that have come loose from your ponytail as you cross the lobby. The hazards of the U-Haul are blinking at a steady rate, the skies turning darker with the looming night. It had taken you and Feyre all day to unpack the truck, and you’re returning it tomorrow when your cars come in, so you need to move it to a normal spot for the night. 

Pushing open the door, your steps falter as someone brushes past you like a shadow, nearly hitting your shoulder with theirs. Your brows furrow and you turn to toss a comment about how rude they are but the words dry up in your throat. 

He’s tugging off a motorcycle helmet and you can’t help but watch the way his biceps bulge against his skin tight black t-shirt. The muscles of his broad back glide like butter beneath the fabric as he moves and you can’t help but let your gaze travel down his spine to his tight waist, dipping into dark jeans.

His thick soled boots thump loudly as he stalks through the door, stopping at the mailboxes to check if he has any letters. The tiny door opens with a squeak that has you snapping back into your body, stunned by his musculature. This man is a god of his own league. A masterpiece of perfectly crafted body parts and tones. He has an angular nose and long, dark lashes matching his disheveled hair. He runs his fingers through it and shoves the helmet under his armpit as he digs through his mailbox. Your fingers twitch to dig out your sketchbook and pencils from the box upstairs.

You force your gaze outside again, cheeks red hot with embarrassment. You were straight up ogling the man, and thankfully you’re not drooling, as you take notice while you wet your suddenly dry lips. 

You click the keys, unlocking the U-Haul, but stop short when you see that the truck is caged in, a big vintage Bronco parked behind, and a shiny motorcycle that looks like it moves faster than the speed of light wedged between the moving truck and the vehicle in front.

“Hey,” you call, ripping the door back open to the lobby. You have no doubt that the motorcycle is his, and the car behind had been there when you and Feyre had arrived this afternoon, so you don’t know whom it belongs to. “Is this your motorcycle?” 

The man is already on his way to the elevator, phone stable in his leather riding gloves as he swipes, envelopes tucked into his helmet. The elevator door screeches open and he doesn’t even bother to turn around and meet your gaze as he punches the button to his floor. “Nope.”

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #art school au #acowar #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #azriel #midnight muse #acotar series

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead On Main part 7

Masterpost

dedicated to @cervinebotanist and @leafyeyes417 for responding so quickly and with such enthusiasm to part 6. Thank you for the encouragement and support.

Danny takes a deep breath. He can hear scrambling from somewhere else in the car, but he can’t pay attention to what’s happening as he focuses inward. He closes his eyes, and reaches inside himself.

Jason has a tiny baby core! Danny almost coos at it, but it’s so underdeveloped that he’s sad instead. Danny can feel ectoplasm in himself, in Jason’s body. But it isn’t enough. This ectoplasm has been reused, reduced, recycled one too many times. It’s got barely enough to stay alive left in it. Jason is mostly being sustained by his human half right now. It feels like play-doh that turns to dust where it should stretch, dried-out and old. It makes him even more sad. And slightly ill. But the sadness makes the rioting ectoplasm calm back down inside him.

Danny opens his eyes. He’s slightly disoriented, but calm now, eyes no longer glowing. They had stopped the car. He looks at Tim, who is leaning against his door and braced against it and Dick’s chair, giving Danny as much space as possible. His hand is almost on the door handle and his tablet on the floor. Dick and Bruce are exchanging panicked looks in the front seat, both now unbuckled for some reason and completely turned to face the backseat.

“Hey, speaking of ectoplasm, this body really needs some.” Danny informs them. “If it doesn’t get some new ectoplasm soon his core is going to cease functioning, and that would be really bad, and possibly irreversible.” 

“Uhhh.” Dick’s panicked look is turning straight to confusion, as is everyone else’s. “What?” 

“I didn’t realize that Jason was, I mean he had mentioned he died, but he- well, I guess I didn’t want to talk about it over the phone either. Does make it easier to talk about since we’re the same, but of course we couldn’t have known yet. But his core needs some help, do you not have access to ectoplasm back home?” Danny is rambling, brain spinning at the thought of how much he and Jason have in common. This big thing that no one else would truly understand by each other. And Vlad, sort of, but nobody likes Vlad. “It’s amazing that we ended up soulmates. He’s only the third person in the world I’ve even heard about with this condition. How long has he been without ectoplasm? Is he having trouble finding any, or does he not know he needs it? Either way, I’m giving him some as soon as possible.” Danny doesn’t know whether he should freak out over that fact that his soulmate is as dead as he is, that he’s currently dying from lack of ecto, or that his soulmate’s entire family is probably going to end up learning about him and ghosts, or the fact that he is currently taking another body that the GIW is going to want to study straight to them. All of these things seem like great reasons to freak out on their own, so all together he is just panicking.

Danny doesn’t seem to be able to breathe. 

“Hey, come on, that’s fine, you can totally give Jason some… ectoplasm.” Dick says.

“Danny, you have to breathe, okay.” Tim is much calmer than Dick, so Danny focuses on him as Bruce and Dick whisper in the front. “Danny, match my breathing.” Danny stares at Tim, who is making very exaggerated breathing movements, and tries to time his breathing to match. “We’ll figure everything out, but we don’t need to do it right now.” Tim is still helping Danny, talking calmly, but he says this with enough force to distract the two in the front seat enough for them to shut up for a second. Danny appreciates the bit of silence.

“You need to start driving.” Danny, tells Bruce. “Right now, his human half is sustaining the rest of him almost entirely. If Jason doesn’t get more ecto soon, his other half will die, and I’m not sure what will happen to his human side if that happens. He may die again completely.”

There’s a beat of silence in the car. Bruce stares right into Danny’s eyes.

“You are saying there is an active threat to my son’s life, ” Bruce asks, voice hard. 

Danny nods. Then everyone is buckled back in and Bruce is pulling them back onto the road. 

“You know what’s happening and how to help him?” Bruce asks, voice steady but Danny can sense all the emotion underneath. Bruce is really worried right now, he looks around the car and realizes that Dick and Tim are as well. They both have phones out, but are tense, tuned into his conversation with Bruce.

“Yeah, It’s a simple enough fix, I’m just worried because he’s really…” Danny takes a moment to think of the right word. “Ecto deficient? His core is definitely malnourished, and his body and mind definitely need it. They are being sustained with human stuff for now, but eventually that won’t be enough.” 

“How urgent is this?”

Danny feels for Jason’s core, feeling like he’s invading his privacy, but without other options to check. It’s not cracked, but it’s not fully formed either. Half starved baby core, not even strong enough to present. Its link to an obsession is strong, but frayed enough that Danny can’t tell what it is. The core is not strong enough to produce it’s own ecto, even in response to the obsession being fulfilled. Everything is stable, but strained.

“I’m not an expert, but he’s sustained himself this long. And we’re already on the way. We should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on it just in case.”

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main #danny phantom #red hood #my writing #fanfiction #soulmate au