I was scrolling through my art folders on procreate, and I found this huge panoramic piece of a bunch of fnafsb Sun & Moon artists with mini versions of their Suns & Moons that I really looked up to.
Unfortunately it never really got past the sketching phase and even then I hadn’t gotten everyone drawn who I wanted to.
But looking back at it gives me this big smile and reminds me of all the good memories of the fandom I think I might as well share it.
Also mind you this is like a year old so it may not be entirely accurate to the designs.
Why I like to torture myself with these elaborate panoramic pieces with like 10+ individuals on a piece is beyond me.
Under the cut is the @ for everyone in this
I’m sorry for the mass @ing
It’ll go from left to right
@maiko-coy
@hashbrowniss
@fluffffpillow
@luckydragon333
@twitchydoodle
@ragingtwilight
@pinkiepig
@chlorenw
@jack-o-phantom
@eating-you-alive-cutely @soopenedraws
@twinanimatronics & @dana-chan-the-control-brain
@bamsara
@paper-lilypie
@kitty-c4t
@bones-of-a-rabbit
@vurelly
@maudiemoods
@oobbbear
@glitchysquidd
@opudont-donut
@spaciebabie
@chankchua @traichank
@witchysolfan
@newts-and-sharks
@gutz-munch
@solarrush
@might-be-a-potato
If you’re reading this and you’re one of the @ individuals, thank you. You guys are amazing artists that I’ll always look up to and I’ll always look forewards to seeing your art. Keep up the great work and I hope you have a wonderful day/night
Even if you aren’t, thanks for reading and looking at my art! I really appreciate it. I hope you too are having a wonderful day/night and know that you’re doing great.
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Can I get asking gym crush!Dave Lizewski to spot you and needing his help. I think that could spark a beautiful romance
a:n: yes of course!! if anyone wants more of this idea definitely give me any thoughts. college aged dave :)
It's embarrassing. You don't even know his name, and you've never once talked to him. Sometimes he comes in with his friends- two of them- but you haven't caught any information about him besides his frankly impressive workout routine. And it's not like you see him a lot; he comes here way less than you. Yet somehow he seems to be stronger than most other regulars at the gym.
It’s probably for the best that you don’t see him a lot, though. Because when he is there, you find it hard to focus on anything except for him. Everywhere you look he seems to be there in the corner of your eye or in the glimpse of the mirrored wall.
It's unfair, really. No one should be able to look that good while covered in sweat, his curls sticking up in every direction and matted to the back of his neck. The compression shirt that he's wearing is dark with sweat, but his expression doesn't look fazed at all.
Today, though, you're determined for it to be different. You have a few more reps you want to do at the machine, then your plan is to go to the bar and do squats. Then you have your usual cool-down mile and stretching routine. Distractions don't fit into your schedule, especially because you’re already bone-tired today.
You do the last rep, timing your breath in and out to your movement. There's a pleasant, constant tiredness in your legs that you’ve come to love, and the music blasting in your ears pushes you towards your next exercise.
Luckily, the bar is open and you’re able to start your set right away. Maybe it's because you're still a little bit sore from your last leg day, or maybe you're just not feeling it today, but it feels harder than usual. By the third set, your legs are shaking much more than usual and you’re having trouble getting through the reps.
It’s definitely not your smartest decision ever to keep going, but you really don’t to stop early. Some part of you thinks that you can just push through and make it; the reasonable part of you is saying that you’re going to need someone to spot you.
Looking around, you don’t see anyone you know- no friends or friends of a friend. It’s relatively empty for the time of day, but you need to ask someone to spot you.
And in the opposite corner of the gym, there he is. He’s not doing any reps, and from the way he’s checking his phone you don’t think that he’s in the middle of any.
You try to tell yourself that everyone else is busy and he’s the only option, but you know it’s not true. Even if he was busy, you would wait for him to finish and ask him anyways. There’s no telling when you’re going to have another opportunity like this to talk to him- at least you have an excuse to go up to him.
If your legs weren’t already shaking, they are as you walk over towards him. It’s a sin, for him to look at good as he does without really doing anything at all. Your own music blasting through one of your dangling earbuds isn’t enough to calm your nerves. He’s wearing headphones too, so he can’t hear you coming, and he seems immersed in whatever he’s doing, so you stand there awkwardly while he finishes. When he looks up at you, a smile makes its way across his face, and he holds out his hand for you to shake it, not caring about the obvious sweat.
You tell him your name and shake him hand, your stomach doing flips the whole time.
He, in turn, introduces himself. “I’m Dave. Do you need something?” He says it with a pleasant tone, but he must think that he’s been rude because he backtracks immediately. “Shit, that sounded rude, sorry. I just- people don’t usually come up to me.”
“It’s okay,” you assure him with a laugh. “I actually wanted to ask you if you could spot me. I only have a few sets left.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” He looks genuinely excited at your request, and he dutifully follows you to your rack.
You take a deep breath and look at the weights waiting for you. The soreness in your body seems worse now that he’s there standing behind you, his hands clasped behind his back. When you take another breath, it sounds a lot like a sigh. You’re thrilled that he’s willing to help you, but you don’t want him to think you’re weak.
“Hey, you got this,” he says lowly. “I’ve seen you do this a million times before, it’s just another rep, yeah?”
You don’t have the brainpower to think about him saying he’s seen you do this before because all of your thoughts go to his hand on your back, gently urging your forward towards the bar. He doesn’t say anything more, but the message is received.
You step underneath the bar and stand up straight, the bar’s weight settling into your shoulders. You can’t see Dave behind you, but you can feel the heat of his hands underneath your arms as he supports you.
You breathe in. Go down.
Breathe out. Push yourself up.
Do it again. And again 8 more times before stepping forward to rerack the weights.
When you turn around, Dave is looking up at the ceiling, his hands straight down at his sides. You fix your hair and pause your music before taking a sip of water.
“Dave?” you ask. “You can look at me, you know.”
“I didn’t want you to think that I was checking you out,” he explains while he brings his eyes to yours. “M’not gonna be that guy.”
“I appreciate it,” you respond, your heart warming at the sentiment. “Really, I do. But I wouldn’t mind you looking.” It’s not exactly the most subtle hint you’ve ever given a guy, but something tells you that subtle isn’t the right approach with Dave.
“What?” He really looks clueless as to what you’re talking about, his head tilted to the side. Your brain helpfully supplies you with “puppy dog.”
Too subtle, then. “Do you want to get coffee after this?” You’re positive that your smile is uncertain and crooked.
“Me?” he asks.
“Yes, you,” you laugh. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I’d like to get to know you.”
“I’d like that, too.” The grin on his face is wide and full, bringing light and laugh lines to his eyes. You haven’t seen this smile from him yet, which is probably a good thing because it has a dangerous effect on you. “You have another set left,” he informs you. “So why don’t we finish that up and go get coffee after?”
“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, stepping back underneath the bar, a renewed vigor in your legs. That vigor, of course, goes away when you actually start the last set.
You do the first five without an issue, but you start struggling more with the sixth. By the eighth rep, you’re face is twisted with effort and you can barely get back up.
Dave doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s there. And his presence is fully reassured to you when he mutters close to your ear, “Come on, just a few more. I’m right here.”
He has to help you with the last rep, his arms supporting you underneath your armpits as he takes some of the weight off and helps you get back the the rack. It forces him much closer to you than before, and you can feel his heart racing against your back. You know yours is beating just as fast.
“Thank you,” you tell him, a little bit out of breath still. “You’re a live-saver.”
A funny look comes across his face at that, but it clears away in a blink. “Anytime.”
“How about that coffee?” you ask, grabbing your keys and water before shooting a quick text to your friends so they know where you’re going. Then, holding out your hand, you say, “It’s the least I can do.”
He takes your hand in between his own, leading you towards his own pile of things. “I know a good place around here.”
“Lead the way,” you tell him.
Maybe asking for his help wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
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i know the fandom loves to pretend that xie lian doesn't take care of himself but let's really think about it for a second. he doesn't have a penny to his name, he has no luck, no spiritual powers and no friends and family left in the mortal realm. how exactly should he take care of himself?
he eats food off the floor because it's better than going hungry. that's how many people in poverty live. he doesn't think twice before touching something that might poison him because when you don't receive medical attention for centuries, you're naturally going to adopt an "it is what it is" mentality about your health. he probably didn't get treated by a healer the first few times he got corpse poisoning because he didn't have enough (or any) money to pay them with. he's humble and ignores however which way he's slandered because what can he do? he's heard things like that and worse before.
800 years of poverty will teach anyone humility as well as strip them of it. 800 years of poverty and solitude can make anyone into a complete cynic, an abuser and/or worse.
but xie lian didnt break, not permanently. what jun wu put him through is nothing compared to what the world put him through. tell me this: is jun wu truly the real villain of the story? or is he a micro manifestation of all the other systematic issues in the TGCF universe, wrapped up into a shiny, evil package that's easier to hate, easier to digest and easier to fall for?
know that even though jun wu "set up" the fall of xianle, it was corruption and imperialism that truly brought the kingdom to its knees. know that teen xie lian truly fought for his people, be they patriots or rebels, and that the reason his efforts could never come to fruition was the corruption of the royals and the nobles.
in a world as systematically corrupt as that (much like our own), how easy do you think it would have been for a poor, homeless and friendless man to live a happy, fulfilling life (which he never lived)? and how much easier would it have been for him to gradually give away his morals and principles in favour of a better meal for once, for a better bed for the night? considering his martial skills and vast knowledge of cultivation, would it not have been easy for him to take a path like jun wu himself? like xue yang, even?
and do you think that xie lian did *not* do all these things just because he had "self-sacrificial" tendencies? after centuries of being only a little better than a beggar, do you think the reason he wants to help the common people is because he feels Rich Prince Guilt?
don't you think that the act of preserving oneself here, the act of not sacrificing onself for a cause, is actually whenever xie lian decides to keep following the path of justice, his Third Path? does self preservation only count when it's your body you're preserving, or your material wealth, or your name? surely your own principles matter more. surely you mean more than a fancy title on a tyrant's mouth.
place yourself in xie lian's shoes, and answer this: if you were to go through all that, even if you were to not become a horrible person, would have found and maintained the courage, time and time again, to keep being kind, to keep taking care of yourself, to not become heedlessly reckless, to not become a walking corpse with a noose (ruoye) wrapped around your neck?
in my opinion, xie lian is a hell of a lot positive for a man who's been through so much and never heard a "it's okay, you can rest now" once (until hua cheng came along, at least).
do you think xie lian doesn't feel bitterness towards lang qianqiu, who buried him with a stake through his heart for gods know how many years, because he just... hates himself? or do you think it's because he helped raise lang qianqiu since childhood and earned real respect and admiration from him, after so many years of being spat on, cursed and ultimately turned invisible? do you think he begged to be banished once again only because he felt guilty (although yes, he did feel very guilty) for the terrible fate that befell lqq's family, or because he also genuinely cares about what happens to his people --- he protected the xianle remnants by setting himself up as a cold-hearted murderer, and he protected lqq by refusing to fight him.
do you think that being so old and having seen so much, xie Lian can't tell danger when it's looking him in the eye? he's not stupid. he doesn't neglect his safety until and unless it's to protect someone he cares about. e.g., when he tried his level best to protect shi qingxuan during the Blackwater arc, knowing that he's fighting things and people beyond his control. my point: it didn't matter if he failed. he had to try, just like he tried with his kingdom, and the kingdom that came next. sqx was the first person after hua cheng to befriend and defend him in a long time, and he wanted to show him the same courtesy. can this be reduced to "self-sacrificing" tendencies or "playing the hero", too?
when xie lian stepped out of that bridal sedan, he knew he was playing with fire, but he's not stupid. if he hadn't stepped out, who is to say that crimson rain sought flower wouldn't have entered on his own, or dragged him out forcefully? xie lian isn't a "you only live once, let's make bad decisions" person. xie lian is a "no matter how many lives i live, i will not change" person.
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One Hell of a Butler Pt.1
(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)
A/N: Guys. I am so sorry. I don't think that Arlecchino oneshot is being posted tomorrow. 😿Trust that it will be posted this weekend. Take this as an apology (I am fr spoiling y'all Arle fans) for the pushback. This is a repost to something I submitted as an anon to @/megistusdiary so there's a chance you've already seen this. It was written a while ago so quality is not up to par.
This is the Black Butler inspired demon au! that I talked about in my poll, check it out if you want a little bit more on this concept. (Thank you guys for voting in it! :33 I'm looking forward to writing the oneshots).
Series Masterlist
Content Warning: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence
Everything hurts. It burns, burns, burns, and you can't feel your limbs and your vision fades in and out. Your broken form twitches on the ground, and as your assailants approach you, ready to wrench the remaining life out of you slowly and painfully, with your final burst of energy and concentration, you let out a guttural screech, a summoning spell spewing from your raspy throat and bloodied teeth.
At first, you think nothing happens. They stalk you, unfaltering despite what you have just called for. Wearing teeth-baring grins and depraved intentions, they near your crumpled body, with their dirty, despicable hands reaching out towards you. Your half-lidded eyes shut fully, and you heave out a sigh of resignation, giving up the futile struggle of staying alive.
You hear it first before you actually see it. A sound distinct only to stilettos clicking against the ground. It jerks your attention immediately, and you twist your head slowly to face the oncoming figure. Black heels with gold adornment catch your eye, and then--
"Well, well, looks like I found the doll that called me," you hear a deep, feminine voice sibilates, voice reverberating throughout the chamber. Your gaze slowly trails up the newcomer's figure, and the white clothing, snow-white hair, and feminine features cause you to mistake her as an angel. Red-crossed pupils meet with yours. A shiver works its way up your spine but you stare in awe regardless. What kind of human was this?
One of your tormenters inquires rather rudely about the woman and storms towards her haughtily, ignorant of the fact he has just sealed his fate. There's an audible, irate click of her tongue, then a snap echoes the room. For a brief moment, your sight is filled with just red, and then your eyes widen as the aggressor bursts into a beautiful explosion of blood and guts. She walks past where once the man stood without pause, now just a puddle of blood, tutting at the blatant disrespect of the formerly alive human. Her feet stop just before you and her shadow looms over.
"A-arle...cchino?" You croak weakly as your hazy gaze sets on her. She looks so handsome, beautiful like a guardian angel, even when she's covered in red. Her lips curl up slightly and she crouches down to hook an arm behind your back and knees, lifting you bridal-style. Heat radiates from her cold-blooded being and it is so much more comforting than the icy hardness of the floor. You immediately bury your face into her shoulder while your needy hands grip onto her coat out of desperation and fear. Beneath the intense iron smell of blood, she smells of something floral, you noted with dulled surprise.
"That is me, the Knave. And what have you called me for?" She purrs from above, repositioning you in her arms so she could support you with one arm instead of both.
You give one single glance behind your shoulder towards the now cowering group of people, their behavior reminding you of feeble sheep rather than the bloodthirsty pack of wolves. You think that you'd like lamb chops after all of this.
Turning your head back, you suck in a steady breath, your voice unwavering and clear despite being muffled into her clothes. "Kill them."
"As you wish."
Even as she draws out the sweetest, most revolting of screams from the remaining alive people, you find peace in your arms. You don't watch, instead, opting to rest your head against her and try to fall asleep to your former captors' begs of mercy. A hand combing through your hair wakes you up. You admire her sharpened red nails and her black hands, so contrasting against her unblemished and perfect skin but pretty all the same. It looks nice, sifting through your hair, it feels right, it feels perfect, even if they're dipped in blood.
"Well, I suppose we can work out the contract at a later time. For now, rest, my dear," her voice is soft and it lulls you to sleep in her arms. She tucks your head underneath her chin and walks away from the bloodbath, her darling wrapped tightly close to her.
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