#since I am very proud of this I will be using the full proper tags just this one single time [lying through my teeth]

[chiropteracupola]

historically accurate trip to clifton's cafeteria!!!

[progress shots under the readmore]

#em draws stuff #SEND HIS ASS TO THE CLIFTON’S CAFETERIA! #I have been working on this image for More Than A Week and I feel like it has taken years off my life :] #look sometimes you get possessed by enthusiasm about fun comics you read and also nostalgia for bizarre novelty restaurants #due to the fact that clifton's no longer exists I cannot go there. but I can send the blorbos there by force if I so choose. #there's just something about old southern california restaurants with strange gimmicks and themes. take me away to there. #since I am very proud of this I will be using the full proper tags just this one single time [lying through my teeth] #swapping my usual format so there’s not just an absolute deluge of organizational stuff right off the bat #I think I said that the madness would probably go away soon but as you see that has not been the case (it's only gotten worse) #this is the most people I’ve put in a picture since I don’t know when #actually after a quick look-see through my files this might very well be the most people I’ve put in a picture Ever #the madness will do that to ya I guess. also the sheer raw clifton’s energy. #(altho' I got so tired in the end that about half the background is a very crunchy photo of The Real Clifton's...) #this is why my header is what it currently is and also why I posted that horrid 70s jello drink a week ago #many thanks are owed to jon dxppercxdxver for chatting with me about outfits and drink orders and such! #this is fanart for the weirder forefather of a rainforest cafe just as much as it is fanart for a videojame #I do not know what the typical tagging etiquette for this is but by golly I'm going to guess #clifton's cafeteria #team fortress 2 #spy tf2 #engineer tf2 #soldier tf2 #sniper tf2 #demoman tf2 #medic tf2 #heavy tf2 #pyro tf2 #miss pauling #scout tf2 #why yes I am tagging clifton's Like It Is The Piece of Media. what of it.

[shy-himb0]

June 5. I always remember I have an Instagram account on June 5th. Every year I am tagged in a number of posts by my mom, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins, and others who are trying in their way to wish me well on the anniversary of the day my dad died. It’s a weird reminder from an app that I hate that I have.

He was dead months before his heart finally stopped. I guess it should mean more to me that it was the last part of him to give out. That thought is a proper memento of what he meant to other people. I knew it too, but my fear of him, of being misunderstood by him, kept me from feeling it. What a terrible thing for life to do. He deserves better from me. And so I offer a few words in an attempt for atonement. 

The BFG. Goliath. Andre. The Jolly Green. Paul Bunyan. The Rock Biter from The Neverending Story. Clifford the Big Red Dog. The Staypuff Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. Jordan and Pippen and Malone and Magic and Bird and all those basketball giants. My childhood was full of giants.

My favorite giant came to my class once. I was in third grade. I was in another new school. Another first day as the new kid. It was like that every year so far. We were always on the move. I was sitting next to my new best friend Josh. Josh had a twin brother named Jeremy. They were the coolest kids in the school, and because I could throw a ball pretty good, they immediately accepted me as one of them. It’s such a proud feeling, being accepted. You feel lucky for it. How does it happen? I don’t remember. I’ve since lost that ability. 

I wasn’t paying attention that morning. I was probably reading a book. It’s what I did anytime the teacher wasn’t talking to the class. I heard a lot of commotion though. Someone had come to the door of the classroom. Josh was tugging at my shirt and asking me if the guy at the door was my dad. I looked up, surprised. Dad never came to school! I was worried I was in trouble, but everyone was so excited. I nodded to Josh, and he yelped out “You’re dad is a giant!” My very own giant had come to bring me the sack lunch that my mom had prepared that morning. I must have left it behind. I was lucky that my giant was so good to me.

My dad had giant hands. They were so big and meaty. I always wondered how they got so big. Strong too. I remember when I was a teen, trying to test my strength against his during handshakes. We would both squeeze as hard as we could. Well, I would anyway. I think he always held back. He used those hands his whole life to make wonderful things. He made puppets for my grandma who was a puppeteer. He made little wood carvings of people or animals to give to my sisters. He used his hands to mold a slain Mercutio when I was stumped on a class project for Romeo and Juliet.

He had a giant laugh. When he giggled, it was like that of a little (giant) girl. You couldn’t hear it and not feel better. I tried. I’d be mad or sad and hear it and I’d want to get annoyed...but I couldn’t. People tell me I laugh like him when I laugh hard. I haven’t been told that for quite some time. 

I remember when my son was a baby. He was inconsolable unless he was on the move - either being bounced around while I was walking, or being swung in his carseat by me. No other swing would work. And no one else had the patience or strength to keep him swinging. Anytime I sat down, even in a rocking chair to keep the movement going, he would immediately begin screaming again. I got really good at being able to lean my head against a wall to swing him. I could almost sleep like that. I think I somehow did a few times. New parents can sleep in the most amazing ways. I remember often dreaming of getting into a huge carseat of my own, to be picked up and swung by some giant. 

I wonder what I would do if I could have a few minutes with my dad again. There’s only one thing that ever seems like the right answer. I wish I could go back to third grade. Back when my dad was a giant to me. I just want to be a little kid held in the arms of my warm and gentle giant.

I still miss you Dad. As much as ever. 

#personal

[dreadnotau]

Big (but sort of not big) announcement time! (At the bottom is a TL;DR if you don’t have time to read paragraphs of my ramblings.)

First thing’s first, I got into college!!! A lot of you probably don’t know, but it’s been a massive uphill battle to practice for the exams to enter the art college I wanted. It’s why I haven’t been posting basically anywhere but here since the year started. It was a lot of work and stress, but it paid off! I’m gonna be studying subjects and doing art things that I’m ACTUALLY interested in! No more are the days of dreading the next German test or pulling my hair out because of some bullshit math equations, from now on it’s just blood, sweat and tears poured into canvases, baby!

Joking aside, this is genuinely monumental for me. Though it DOES mean I’m gonna be pulled thin on my time and creative juices the moment the first semester starts, I’m still excited to keep working on Dread Not alongside the schoolwork I’ll inevitably have to do, too. This comic is, as I’ve said many times, my biggest passion project yet, and the fact that I stuck with it for over a year now is another thing I have to be very proud of.

But, in all honesty, this project wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for my best friend, Meow! As some of you may know (or maybe noticed the changed bio), Meowchela is the co-author of Dread Not, and is the one who encouraged me to go through with a full comic telling of the story, (instead of just letting it sit idly in my brain like most of my Deltarune and Undertale AUs do, whoops) so, again, you have her to thank for all of this. She’s not directly involved with the creation of the pages (yet?), but she is the one who helped add many characters, sideplots, and satisfying conclusions to what was, originally, just an AU about Toriel, Asgore, Spade, Gaster, and Kris, as well as helping with designing characters both that appear later on and have appeared already (Rouxls’ fabulous design was made by her!)

The reason I bring this all up in detail now is because she is now OFFICIALLY credited as a co-author. I used to just mention her in posts and tags, as well as give her a special role in the discord server, but now she’s credited alongside me in the bios of both the Twitter and the Tumblr accounts! The reasons why she didn’t want to be credited until recently are her own, but I hope you all give her as warm a welcome as you gave me as a fellow author of Dread Not! She knows this story better than anyone (better than even me sometimes, whoops x2) and I hope we can all see it through to the end!

Don't take my word for it all, though, here's a statement from Meow:

Hello everyone! I'm Meow, who you now know as the co-author for Dread Not! I've been around for this project since the concept stages, and seeing all of your love and support for it means so much more than I can reliably say. You may now be wondering why I've been so silent despite being around for so long, and the answer to that is very personal. All I'll say is that it took a while to build up the courage to allow Kooki to even mention me by name (and trust me, he's wanted to since we made the blog!) and so having a proper credit like this is monumental. I'm happy to finally be more front and center for the project, even if still a litle nervous! =w=;;

Thank you for reading from the bottom of my heart. Seeing everyone being so kind about the comic is half the reason I came out of my shell in the first place. While it's true that without me the comic wouldn't exist, in turn my efforts would never have been realized had it not been for all of you! So thank you again, and I hope you're as excited for what's to come as I am!

And, lastly, and kind of least importantly (to me), I’ll be postponing this week’s page. Both so I can relax for 2 seconds after my exams, and so I can have more ready for the week after this one. I’m gonna be going on vacation soon, too, so I’ll try to have a page ready for posting while I’m away from home. And, if it’s not ready, it’ll just be postponed for a week, too. You guys have dealt with longer hiatuses, it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

TL;DR: Kooki is in college now and October is gonna kick his ass. Meowchela is now officially credited as a co-author of Dread Not. This week’s page will be postponed so I can actually go touch grass for once.

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your continued support of this comic! Act 1 is in it’s last third, and progress on Act 2 is looking promising. Stay tuned!

#dread not #dreadnot #dread not au #dreadnotau #not comic #not a hiatus announcement thankfully #this is just a post basically bringing to the spotlight some recent developments #seriously tho i wish i could give meow more credit but shes like nooo ur the one drawing the pages dont put my name on those #and like i get where shes coming from but also? she def deserves more credit for helping as much as she has already #maybe i'll get to include her name on some future pages who knows #for now though im gonna go like. lie down. exams were HELL

[frostbite-the-bat]

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

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

-spingt

4. ROBOTS AS A WHOLE. The SCC are simple enough but if I like smthn more mechanical or robotic... I AM SCREWED. Main reason why I haven't done proper Portal fanart or did HLVRAI Gordon in his HEV suit fr

Also been struggling with my SNEO and my design as of late but that's a me thing

5. Umm! I post most of my art here, but if it's personal for a friend/my server or work for DPAU that isn't ready I wont post it! It's mostly doodles n stuff I never post - i often dont even save 'em. I can't give a percentage on this, sadly.

26. This set of shitposts I drew over the Skeleton adoption set of shitposts, but with my sona and Spamton. Got some tags referencing Spamton x Readers on this one 💀 That's not what I meant, it's more platonic /familial but yeah. Also I HATE these images now. Why did I draw Spamton like this 💀💀💀

30. SO MUCH OF MY ART NEVER GETS ATTENTION I SPOKE ABOUT THIS EARLIER TODAY. If it's personal for OCs and such I have to beg internally for reblogs and strangers are gonna be kind enough to get over 12ish notes. Sometimes even over 5... It's sad, reallt, since there's some high effort drawings nobody cares about 'cause of it being my OCs and my story and not fanart. (Despite them being fandom OCs)

I find that if I use more aesthetically pleasing pastel colors, people like it more. Which sucks bc I like very bright and flashy colors.

Let's get to the posts now -

This recent one I am very proud of, only getting 14 notes.

This one DID get more traction on insta, quite a bit, actually! But here on Tumblr it totally flopped. Which sucks since I enjoyed this drawing as it let me explore another style. Got 44 notes - which a bit, but compared to some of my other Spamton notes it's little. (Like my shitposts... Yjose easily get 500 to 1000 notes. Nesr the 2000s if I'm lucky.)

And THIS thing I worked my ASS of on. Full painting even if in one color. Important lore moment in my AU, even came with a whole written chapter. (Only showed the bit this drawing is abouy, however.)

And of course, it being an OC post with a ton of text it intimidated people. 26 notes only because I kept reblogging it to get people to notice.

And this one! Isn't as fsncy, I could do a bit better now, but I'd say it's still a cool drawing! And my SCC posts even with Scratch included often do get plentiful notes. But this one only had Scratch, so it only has 14 notes.

#Ask

[josephsen72field]

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#prada terry cloth slides #prada slides

[double-hoe-seven]

AFC Richmond as boyfriends

Here’s a lil headcanon collection of our favorite himbos as boyfriends.

I did it again for the staff (: AFC Richmond Staff as partners

A/N: Definitely didn’t put everyone but these were my top ones and it’s 2 AM so imma leave it here.

Sam Obisanya

The absolute sweetest man you have ever met

Such a softie, very concerned about making sure you’re happy and comfortable with whatever choices you make together.

He always picks the most random times to surprise you with things; showing up at your work randomly for lunch or with coffee/tea, random little souvenirs from his away games.

He’s always putting himself second and sometimes you have to remind him “hey, babe, you can do things for yourself, you deserve nice things too.”

Just, compliments galore with him. He’ll always find a way to compliment you on something.

The most cuddly person ever, he loves public affection (hand holding, piggy backing, hugging, kissing if it’s not raunchy, etc), he really just likes showing you off because he feels like the luckiest man in the world to have you.

He takes his time with your relationship, letting it bloom and grow at it’s own pace.

There aren’t many fights between you, hardly ever, the last “fight” you had was because you couldn’t unanimously decide which dog to rescue. The solution? You adopted both, now you share a one-eyed Jack Russell Terrier named Starro and a three legged German Shepherd puppy named Harry (Pawter. He was so proud at his pun when he showed you the then 3-month old puppy.)

Again, just the sweetest, more romantic man you’ve ever met and ever will meet.

thesexisgoodtoo. hesaverygentleandgivinglover

Isaac McAdoo

Man’s stubborn.

I mean it, he is as stubborn as a mule.

I’M DEAD SERIOUS, he once pouted for 5 days when you accidentally ate the last Rolo in the flat.

But he’s also romantic in a sort of rugged way?

He won’t go shopping with you but he knows what colors look best on you, he knows what styles look good on you, and he has your sizes and shades memorized.

Bear.

Mr. sometimes-crank-teddy-bear over here.

He’ll say he doesn’t want something but he will eat half of your food if given the chance. If you step away from your food to get a drink or something, there will be a good part mission when you get back.

Its a tradition to go on a date the morning of a game, and snuggle up with a movie after the game.

You have had more than a few drunk texts from him, all of them equally funny and full of sexual innuendos.

You don’t address his Rolo addiction. It could be something much worse anyway.

Richard Montlaur

So many visits to the goat farm he was raised on!

He really has to drag you back to London after visiting his parents because you don’t want to leave all the precious goats (and you and his parents get along famously).

You spend alternating holidays with each others families (except for Bastille day, you always spend that either together or with his family.)

There are always roses in your shared flat.

It’s a constant battle over his facial hair.

He has a grudge against the way the English make French pastries.

He has a habit of falling asleep on the couch or in uncomfortable positions and then wondering why his back or neck hurts.

Little spoon.

He’s teaching you French.

This man is a smooth operator, master at flirtation and romance. He’s good at planning romantic dates and outtings.

Dani Rojas

You 100% believe his mom when she says he was born caffeinated.

One of your first dates was a Mumford and Sons concert which was an interesting experience.

Soft boi hours with him. He’s a lil puppy dog.

Does this man ever sleep? Rarely.

He rises with the son and wants to get the day started immediately but he’s mostly letting you sleep in now.

He LOVES trying new things, exploring new places, generally having new experiences.

His absolute favorite thing to do when he’s not training is playing football (or any game, really) with the kids in your neighborhood. They all love him.

He’s a sweet boyfriend, not as sweet as Sam but he’s a close second.

You alternate who plans date night. You split the chores 50/50 but divvy it up if one of you is sick or has more work to do.

There’s so much alcohol in your flat its unreal.

You usually go to sleep before him but he has a bad habit of throwing himself into bed and partially waking you.

He makes the best breakfast most mornings.

And don’t forget the trips back home to visit his family in Guadalajara.

After a long day of training, he loves just laying down with his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair.

Jamie Tartt (Season 1)

FUCK NO

Jamie Tartt (Season 2)

On your first date you got drunk and bonded over shitty fathers.

Not that either of you really remembered the next day, you were both too hungover to immediately recall the night.

His love language is kind words.

At the start he needed a lot of reassuring that you did care about him for who he was, warts and all.

He’s slightly awkward when it comes to romantic gestures so most of the date planning falls on you don’t mind.

He still has some high maintenance behavior but he’s working on it and you’re proud of how far he’s come from the prick he used to be.

Your fights are usually over petty shit like where to eat for dinner or what movie to go see.

He will not hesitate to buy your feminine products for you. He knows your preferred brands and sizes and what treats you like when its that time.

He’s good at those rigged carnival games, the many little stuffed animals in your closet can attest to that.

He talks in his sleep. It’s all nonsense.

He has a soft spot for the neighbor’s cat (and cats in general).

Roy Kent

Rugged.

He’s great to snuggle up to.

The man is honest to boot. He doesn’t sugar coat anything at all.

10/10 times he will go down on you if asked. He’s a giver.

He is the heaviest sleeper in the world. You don’t know why he bothers setting alarms.

Phoebe has a room at your flat and spends so much time with you both.

Many nights have been spent reading different books on the couch together.

He has to clean the drains since 75% of it is his.

Fuck is a very versatile word in your home, used daily.

Not the most romantic man alive but he has his moments.

Date nights are usually relaxed and proper but sometimes you can make the old man have a little fun.

He growls at least a dozen times a day, it’s his main response.

Jan Maas

My beloved

My sweet, beloved Jan who can’t/won’t use a filter to save his life.

He’s blunt in everything and sometimes it makes you want to slap him.

Jan is still getting used to English ways and mannerisms.

He has good intentions but sometimes needs a little help with wording.

He likes going on Aquarium dates.

The more tired he is, the clingier he is and it’s too cute.

Once after a game he plopped onto the couch next to you and basically tried to curl up in your lap.

He can make amazing pancakes.

Thats it though.

You’ll do most of the cooking if you value living in a flat that’s not on fire.

He’s a sweetheart though.

Mostly good intentions though.

Doesn’t mind nudity and had to quickly be reined in by the team. Not at home though.

At home he can easily be found lounging in boxers and a t-shirt while he sips coffee.

He knows what he’s doing.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker​

#Ted Lasso #Jan Maas #Isaac McAdoo #Dani Rojas #Roy Kent #Jamie Tartt #Sam Obisanya #Richard Montlaur #AFC Richmond Himbos #AFC Richmond #AFC Richmond Greyhounds #Emotional Support Himbos #I love them all your honor #Jan Maas my beloved #Sam Obisanya is baby

[jilliannotfound]

prepare for a long ask (i’m sorry)

my brain is very full so hear me out-

dream smp casino/mafia au-

now i was at first thinking Kinoko kingdom (karlnapity) are the owners of the casino cause yk Las Nevadas Quackity but then i remembered “Syndicate” (by Derivakat) which has a jazzy vibe and was like, what if the Syndicate was a mafia ‘family’ that ran a casino and reader is their star performer who starts off every night with a performance of “Syndicate”. reader’s performance is used to kinda establish the Syndicate’s power over the casino and to remind the patrons anything they do will be under the scrutiny of a mafia with literally two of the most renowned mafiosos’ (Philza whose reputation of traveling all over and taking down many a mafia family precedes him and Technoblade who has taken down mafia families singlehandedly) in the city, maybe even the entire country.

the Eggpire is like a rival mafia that is trying to take control over the city so it isn’t uncommon for them to try and infiltrate the Syndicate casino. so i was thinking, what if the people who are Pro-Omlette (but not in the Syndicate so Puffy, Foolish (since it’s not confirmed he’s part of the Syndicate), Awesamdude and Eret) are staff at the casino. they were each like a lone agent after their mafia family split up/they left and decided to join forces with the Syndicate to make sure the Eggpire didn’t gain total control of the city. Maybe Sam is a bodyguard stationed either outside the casino or manning security cameras switching with Puffy, Eret can be like a stage manager/backstage to aid the performers and make sure no one sneaks into the dressing rooms or the light control area backstage and Foolish is like a bartender keeping an eye out on the main floor of the casino for any activity.

Dream was the former head of the well-renowned Dream Team mafia family until the family split. he’s notorious for breaking apart mafia families before disappearing into the night and traveling to a new city. occasionally he’ll hire some aid but they never last long.

Ponk used to be an on-sight medic for the casino in cause of bar fights or performers getting injured on stage but after many rumors (later confirmed to be true) of him being a member of the Eggpire he was fired and not allowed to enter the premise of the casino again.

Kinoko Kingdom was a rival casino/mafia family to the Syndicate’s but they’ve decided to have a truce to make sure Dream and/or the Eggppire don’t take over their city. Their casinos have different vibes with the Syndicate’s being more of a hub for mafia and business activity with jazzy music on the constant and famous for civilized and tame yet very entertaining entertainment whilst Kinoko’s casino is like more of a rowdy type casino, famous for high stake bets, drinks with high alcohol content and lively music and entertainment that can be seen as a bit too glitzy and tacky. Like you go to Syndicate casino for a night of business deals and building yourself up to the top, the type of casino you would bring your boss to, whilst the Kinoko casino is the type of casino you go to let loss and risk it all with cheap entertainment and even cheaper booze. their truce works out because their casinos are so different that competition wouldn’t be worth the cash (and the Syndicate knows they can easily take on the Kinoko mafia in a fight but shhhh)

there’s multiple places a reader character could fight but as a primarily Technoblade simp at heart i had to put reader as a performer in the Syndicate casino-

~🦫Anon (if this title isn’t already taken-)

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖

DSMP x Reader (in-game)

Summary: Request

Warnings: None?

A/N: Okay… I have a few important things to say. First of all, this story is not completed. This request is so genuinely good and I have been trying to work on it for far too long and have had very little success. With that being said I still want to publish the small bit of this story that I’m proud of.

Second of all, I would like any other dsmp writers on this platform to feel free to take this request and perhaps do with it what I wasn’t able to. If you write this story, please tag me because I’d love to see what you do with it. You can also use this bit I have written and am sharing to start off your own version of the story (just give proper credit)!

With all of that out of the way, please enjoy!

—

The Syndicate. One of the highest-end casinos in the country, and certainly the most powerful, being run by two of the best-known mafiosos.

Philza was best known for his travel, being able to track down anyone anywhere and take care of them.

Technoblade was easily the scariest man you could meet. He’d single-handedly taken down more mafia families at the age of 21 than most senior-aged mafiosos could even dream of.

It was rare to see either of the men in the casino, let alone to see them together, so when the pair came through the doors with power in their steps everyone knew something serious was in order.

They took their seats at the bar as Foolish prepared their drinks and Eret directed the casino's attention to the stage.

This performance was a nightly occurrence, the same jazzy tune came from the band's instruments as Y/N emerged from the curtain.

Hey, I'll tell you a little secret of mine

If you promise not to tell, if you have the time

Everyone has gotten you, always on the run

But if you join the Syndicate

Life could get a little more fun

It was the song of the casino, used to remind everyone just how much power it holds.

When all of the horses and all of the men

Won't learn from history, it's all the same in the end

I've told you once and I'll tell you again

The Syndicate is looking for a couple new friends

It reminds the patrons of the casino that no matter what they do, the Syndicate is always watching, studying each of them in hopes of finding some new friends.

Fight for freedom, fight to end the pain

Hey, this is serious, it's not just some little game

'Cause the anarchy's part of me, tyranny bothers me

End it all properly once and for all

They call us the villains 'cause they know we'll take the fall

The members of the Syndicate were a force to be reckoned with, composed of strong fighters and quick thinkers constantly working to take down anyone that dare stand in their way.

The Eggpire was their current concern. Run by a man named BadBoyHalo, the Eggpire was a whole other breed of mafiosos.

They preached about the Egg, whatever the hell that was supposed to be, and always wore a signature red color that made them easy to spot. Sometimes you could even swear there was a red glint in their eyes when talking about it.

After the incident with Ponk, their old medic that got caught up in the red whirlwind, the Syndicate became extra wary of the Eggpire, willing to do just about anything to take them down.

This is exactly why the two most powerful men were sitting together at the Syndicate’s bar with their eyes locked on the stage.

Fight for freedom, fight to end the pain

Hey, this is serious, it's not just some little game

'Cause the anarchy's part of me, tyranny bothers me

End it all properly once and for all

They call us the villains 'cause they know we'll take the fall

When all of the horses and all of the men

Won't learn from history, it's all the same in the end

I've told you once and I'll tell you again

The Syndicate is looking for a couple new friends

Oh, a couple new friends

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh no, no

You'll gain a couple new friends

As the jazzy instrumentals faded out, Eret poked his head out of the curtain on the side of the stage, gesturing for the resident singer to come backstage.

Y/N smiled at the audience and walked through the velvet barrier to be greeted by the deep-voiced brunette.

“Did you see who’s out there tonight?” They asked him.

“That's why I called you, they wanna see you.”

Y/N took a deep breath and headed out onto the main floor.

They’d been part of the Syndicate for most of their life and knew they weren’t in any danger near Techno and Phil, but the anxiety still pounded in their head as they approached the men.

Y/N sat on the stool next to Technoblade and the two turned their stools to face them.

“Lovely performance!” Phil praised

They shot him a kind smile and braced themself for the inevitable harsh news that would follow the attempted small talk.

“We need you to do something.” Techno said bluntly. “You know Las Nevadas?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was another casino ran by Kinoko Kingdom, another mafia family. They used to be considered one of the biggest threats to the Syndicate because they had quite literally appeared overnight and nobody knew anything. Once the Eggpire popped up though, it was safest to become fast friends with the three men that ran Las Nevadas in hopes of strengthening their forces against the red abomination infecting families all over.

“We had a meeting with Quackity and he’s got a bad feeling about some guests that have been stopping by their area. It’s a shitty casino, we all know that, but he thinks it’s more than just some random troublemakers.”

…

:]

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp fanfiction #las nevadas #kinoko kingdom #the syndicate #eggpire #dream team #awesamdude #badboyhalo #captain puffy #dream #dream was taken #eret #georgenotfound #karl jacobs #nihachu #niki nihachu #philza #ponk #quackity #sapnap #technoblade #🦫 anon

[dimples-of-discontent]

Oh anons flooding my inbox to tell me that I’m a conspiracy theorist for thinking there’s more to this finale than meets the eye and/or that it’s totally the writers’ fault, you have no idea how much I do not care! I’m tagging anything related as “finale theories” and you should feel free to blacklist it using whatever method you so choose. I’m staying away, until the dust settles, from drawing any conclusions about what exactly happened to the script (either to make it what it was pre-covid or post-covid) or what cut scenes might have contained, or who was at fault for how it all turned out.

To the anons who think I’m reading too much into Jensen and Misha’s relative “silence” on the finale, I have some comments. With Misha it’s harder to tell, but I am completely convinced that Jensen is deliberately not engaging with finale-related content because he’s so alienated, angry, and disappointed. I think Misha is finding ways to talk about it that he thinks will support the fandom, rather than the network, and frankly he is far more used to having to deal with the feeling of being screwed by the network but still loving the fans. But Jensen really trusted them and they did him really dirty.

Leaving aside the fact that neither Jensen nor Misha was in the CW “thank you” video--which is LOUD AF of them--let’s look at the social media angle. We already know that Jensen wasn’t happy with the finale as it was written (which likely included Dean dying and, yes, that was probably his biggest beef, but I’ll bet he had some words about Misha’s character too) and talked to several people about it. He was then told to accept it and make his peace and he did that and did the best he could. Now, since November 5th we’ve heard very little from him and definitely not in the ways you would expect to hear from the star of a long-running show like SPN.

He’s been much more forthcoming about how proud he was of the scene he shot with Misha in “Despair.” Jensen and Misha both posted about 15x18 and Jensen happily talked about it on a livestream. It meant so much to him personally (as the last scene they’d film together, or as a momentous moment in the show, or as something else) that he had someone film it on his phone just for him and admitted breaking character. They talked it through beforehand a lot. They talked about it after a lot and texted each other fan reaction videos. They were glad to be able to do something that meant so much to us and that brought the story to this point.

Over on Twitter, Misha seems pretty much his same self, using the proper hashtag (which in the old days of Twitter he used to mock Jensen for not knowing how to do) and RTing nostalgic comments from Kripke, Jim Michaels, etc. His personal tweets just tagged Jensen and Jared. The set pics he shared were from 15x18. Jensen just gave Entertainment Weekly a RT for the finale. He’s pretty much full-time on Instagram, but that’s still pretty little engagement. He liked two tweets, both on 11/5 when 15x18 was airing, by Misha and Bobo Berens, but zero tweets related to the finale. (Jared tweeted during the finale a few times and then sent some comfort to the fans. FWIW he also didn’t RT or tag any network folks. I think he’s probably less happy than he seems, but he’s a company boy doing a new show with them so his hands are tied.)

Over on Instagram, on the day of the finale Misha was busy. He posted a pic of Maise “Spon on-set props assistant” in a trench coat robe. Jensen liked that. He also posted a video recapping and asking people to tune into the finale. Jensen did not like that. THEN he posted a pic of him and Jensen filming 15x18. Jensen liked that. Pic of Misha and the kids about to watch SPN? Jensen likes it. Pic of Misha crying during the finale and saying how much he’s going to miss Sam and Dean that actually tags Jensen? Jensen does not like it. The gist? Jensen “likes” all Misha’s posts from that day except the two related to the content of the finale (rather than watching it with West and Maison...and besides, soft boy Jensen isn’t going to not like a pic of West and Maison!).

And here’s Jensen’s account. On November 3rd, Jensen posts to thank TV Guide. On the 19th he posts to thank Entertainment Weekly. On the day of the finale, he posts a pic of Dean’s boots and a video of him getting dressed as Dean “for the last time - for now.” (I think that was a clumsy attempt not to spoil anything but I will also hold onto the idea that maybe he will do his own version of a sequel. The day after the finale he posts a slightly salty photo of the piece of rebar (aka “the rusty nail”) that killed Dean captioned “Excuse me....uh, ‘set dec’!!! Can we get this removed please?!?!” and uses the hashtag “spnfamilyforever.” That’s the hashtag for us--for the fans--rather than anything official. Those posts were both for us too, showing him loving Dean and loving being Dean and being just as pissed as us about his death. (For the record, Jared posted a pic of him watching the finale, also hashtagging the spnfamily, and Jensen liked it.)

All the people that he’s not thanking reads very loudly. Contrast to all the thanks he (and everyone else) were throwing like roses at the 300th episode party. Jensen is a generous guy. He’s professional, everyone likes him, and he likes to credit everyone for their accomplishments. For him to be this silent and not write a single caption thanking ANYONE aside from TV Guide and Entertainment Weekly (who he needs to keep on his good side for his own production company)? IS SO OUT OF CHARACTER!!! Every con, every interview, he talks about how they couldn’t do what they do without the help of all these other people along the way. To not have it in him to thank those people? He must be hurting so incredibly badly.

He cares about us so he’ll do what he can for the SPN family. But it won’t surprise me if the clusterfuck of an ending alienated him so much that we don’t get things we might otherwise (more panels, for example, or cons) because he is just done working with the people who hurt him. I’m glad he was smiling in that most recent livestream because he sure doesn’t seem happy right now.

#asks #kind of #anons #spn finale #finale theories #jensen and the finale #jensen about the finale #jensen about dean #jensen feels #misha and the finale #misha about the finale #15x18 #15x20 #jared and the finale #cast twitter #cast isntagram #insta jen #insta mish #social media cockles #dean deserved better #jensen deserved better

[formulinos]

a few life updates and other stuff

hi besties i hope some of you are well!

i've been thinking lately and i thought it would be nice to talk a bit around here since i've been sporadically coming and going out of this blog for the past few weeks. first of all, i would like to tell you how life has been personally since last year:

- i left my home country and moved to [redacted] to continue my studies - got super anxious, took me a while to deal with those feelings and didn't have a stellar debut grade wise - did make a lot of friends, had some amazing experiences, started living on my own (did you guys know that taking care of your own house is so, SO GOOD?) - got a job at [redacted], feel impostor syndrome everyday over it even though i only start in april - no bitches :/

as you can see, sometimes maybe good sometimes maybe shit but so is life! taking the time to adapt has been time consuming especially because, overall, i've taken my time with university at home and avoided full time studying not only because i wanted to work and research but also because i don't function really well taking full 30 credits a semester. in here, they ONLY take full semesters so i wake up super early and get home super late, have to cook and clean and shower and STILL study a bit because of the harsh amount of tasks we are given. this means i don't have the time to follow my hobbies during the week, and on weekends i have actually been trying to leave my comfort zone and not stay isolated at home working dae computers. last week i tried to learn how to ride a bicycle and my legs still have the bruises.

this all comes to say that i miss A LOT the work i've done here during my primadonna rise and before my primadonna fall. i have another blog i kept my work in, because my original plan was to fully delete this one, but i forgot the password and the email i used for it, so i still keep tabs here because i like to check the stuff i did every once in a while since i don't have a lot of time to do new stuff instead. i'm actually moved, truly, because i never get a note-free day. someone is always showing love either to the edits i did, even some of the more obscure ones, or the things i wrote. not only that, but with proper tag commenting, calling up their friends to check it out, etc. this makes me truly proud to know not only that i'm the absolute best at being talented in every single task i set myself to do, but also that it pays off not to be scared and throw yourself out there because people will always be able to give you feedback with the same love you applied in making something. and since it's been so frustrating not being able to keep working on all of this, it means the world to me to see formulinos live on. thank you so much for your support.

that being said, in my farewell letter i say i wasn't a nico rosberg type pre-retirement, but i absolutely am a post-retirement nico. my goal is to be confusing and annoying. i want to sound like i'm right but also i know i'm wrong but it's avant garde and post ironic, and also i want to be my own gender - i actually managed to do this last part as the woman in the bakery shop still doesn't know if i am a ma'am or a sir. anyway, i'm going to keep popping up sporadically but i fully have decided to keep myself away because i was advised by my right hand maisie (@jedivszombie) not to. she is an amazing person and so i trust her to know what's best for me. that being said (2), i will come back for another hyperfixation corner insanity i've been working on since last year on and off. half of it is written and it's all mapped out, i think it will be very much worth it to keep working on it because i have learned so much. i hope you guys enjoy it too! i don't know when i will be done but Soon...

if any of you are confused by this or want to reminisce the good ole days, remember all the nice pics and gifs i have edited here! i think it's mainly seb and/or ferrari, which works. if you are more of a reading person, i can give you my hyperfixation corners! 

the 2005 united states grand prix rush 2: senna x prost jean-marie balestre lewis ♡ nicole 5eva robert kubica: the prince that was promised a special: understanding and ranking the landogates the 1982 formula one world championship a special: oops!… they did it again - the friendship of jenson button and nico rosberg (this one is in dire need of an update since last year's FP3 extravaganza and The Podcast) the 1993 SEGA european grand prix a special: donkey does hyperfixation corner

at last, since we are in race week, remember that f1blr is as good as you make it. if you don't like it here, you are part of the problem. take a good hard look at the mirror and think about why you need a stage to enjoy a hobby. just kidding, it's not that serious. but don't be asses, have fun and be yourselves <3 see you around!

#hahahahah i did a long post and didnt do a cut HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

[shirophantomvox]

Illumi Analysis | Hisoka Analysis | Killua Analysis

What’s up, everybody! I am back yet again with another Hunter x Hunter post. You all really like my Hisoka and Illumi character analysis and thoughts. I figured why not analyze Chrollo as well? Apparently, Chrollo, Hisoka, and Illumi are considered the Adult Trio on here so that is why I used the tag. I understand that this is a Voltron blog but I changed it into a multi because I have a love for other shows that deserve to be talked about. I post these character analyses because they will help me define and develop characters of my own and I love talking about them. Where are they from? What do they do in their spare time? And so on. Read the entire post for links and references!

Let’s get into the post!

I’ve stated in my "Hunter x Hunter Thoughts #2" post that Chrollo caught my attention immediately in the Yorknew City Arc. It was a combination of his large eyes, his calm, smooth voice, the tattoo on his forehead, and his hairstyle. I’ve noticed that my heart flutters a little when these characters speak (don't make it weird. You know what I mean) because their voices are smooth and calm. I think this tactic often used to get the viewers to “love” the villain regardless of any wrongdoings they do in the show. I noticed numerous things about him that made me wonder why he dresses the way he does, why is he so calm and dark, and why does he lurk in the shadows?

I have to be honest. One thing that often annoys me about several anime/manga(s) is they introduce SEVERAL characters at once, push some characters off to the very end, and do not give proper backstories for villains, especially. I don’t side with villains but a backstory should be a necessity. The only main antagonist that has a proper backstory is Illumi because we know that he was raised by crazy assassins. Hisoka doesn't have a backstory except for a one-shot that isn’t canon and neither does Chrollo.

I’ve only seen 2 flashbacks regarding Chrollo and his past. He was born in Meteor City which was a town full of trash; no houses, plants, or schools. It is implied that he only survived from stealing from others. His current members are people he met in his hometown. Chrollo often states that he is the head of the group and if he dies, he trusts that they’ll make a great decision on who the new leader will be. In the present, Gon asks him how he could kill people he didn’t know. The silence and rhythmic thunder-claps imply that he doesn’t know why.

Is it something he does...impulsively? Throughout this arc, it seems that Chrollo is having somewhat of an identity crisis. He has stated several times about trying to figure out “who he is”. By that, Chrollo must not like to steal and destroy but to him, that is what he needs to do to survive.

This raises the question of: “If he has stolen for all these years, why is he still living in a destroyed church?”

He’s been a bandit for years. I’m sure he’s on the radar somewhere. He can’t walk around with the troupe members in broad daylight because someone will recognize them. Maybe this is why they only travel in the dark. Machi was brave for walking from Heaven’s Arena in the dark.

He can’t buy a house. What name, card info, or co-leaders would sign the lease? He’s a bandit, remember. His face is somewhere waiting to be caught.

He has accepted this state of living. I thought that since he lived in a trash town that he would want to live in a luxurious place if he could, but no. He lives in a destroyed church, in darkness, and only speaks to his members.

When Chrollo stole the girl’s ability to tell the future, he took it for two reasons. A) because he needed it to see what would happen to Uvo in the new world and B) because the girl’s father used her ability for money and didn’t care for her.

The only reason why I feel an ounce of sympathy for him and not Illumi is it seems like Chrollo raised himself. He took it upon himself to steal and whatnot so he could eat. Chrollo came from nothing while Illumi had a mansion, butlers, protection, and anything he wanted. FYI, just because you have a luxurious lifestyle doesn’t mean you’re happy but in this case, Illumi had shelter while Chrollo didn’t.

Face

Chrollo’s face is what I aspire to create for my own OC’s but manage to fail every time. His face matches his body. If it weren’t for his tattoo and his main hairstyle, I wouldn’t have thought he was a threat to anyone. His face is well-rounded and reminds me of a young adult. His skin is pale and often covered in shadows because he is always in a room that is only lit by a candle. His ears are rather large for his head, but they match ok. Although, I wish his tattoo was removed. To me, that ruins his character design. He already has an inverted cross on his coat and is implied by the destroyed church he lives in. The tattoo just reminds me of a cult for some reason and that is why he gave me unsettling feelings at first.

Eyes

Chrollo’s large eyes are another feature that had me aghast. Some people love big eyes, but his grey pupils capture you almost like you're hypnotized to do anything he wants. They’re a pretty shade of grey, though.

Hair

I am going to say this loud and proud: CHROLLO LOOKS MUCH BETTER WITH HIS HAIR DOWN! Yes, to me he looks much respectable, mature, and serious with it down. His hair is jet black and is shiny like Illumi’s. I could only imagine if I had the chance to touch his hair, the dye would come off on my hands. The down look? The best way to go!

Clothes

His clothes are very stylish. The coat he wears would be PERFECT for the winter seasons! If I ever cosplay, I’m wearing that coat while it's snowing. In the first scene, he was seen wearing a black shirt with white lines going in numerous directions. After that, the creators decided to let his rippling chest show for the rest of the arc. Damn, rippling chests have been a popular decision and NO ONE is complaining! His black pants remind me of skinny jeans and even if they are, he’s lucky because I CANNOT wear skinny jeans. Once I wore them, bent over, and ripped them! I said to myself, “WTF? I paid $35 for these!”

Shoes

He wears black boots that reach up to his leg. He isn’t as stylish as Illumi and Hisoka, but that’ll do. His clothing is much simpler for anyone to cosplay.

Voice

As stated above, Chrollo has a soft, calm voice. He is the only villain I’ve seen that maintains composure during tough situations. I don't know if this was planned or not, but the main antagonists have calm soothing voices. When Chrollo went out with the fortune teller, I forgot he only did that for his selfish gain. I thought he generally enjoyed the date.

In conclusion, I wish Chrollo had a backstory like many characters in this manga. I think Hisoka and Chrollo’s backstory would be the most interesting to me. When these twisted characters appear before us, you want to know why they became this way. Having an empty villain isn’t good and is quite annoying.

Thank you for reading this post! If you’d like me to analyze any characters from Voltron or Hunter x Hunter, send me an ask!

#chrollo #hxh #hunter x hunter #hisoka #illumi #phantom troupe #adult trio #feitan #leorio #gon #killua #chrollo lucilfer #yorknew arc #yorknew city arc #shiro phantom vox writes #original charater #character analysis #fandom #fictional characters #fantasy #anime gif #anime aesthetic #anime memes #anime packs #manga #manga aesthetic #manga edit #hunter x hunter 1999 #hunter x hunter 2011 #hunter x survivor

[nattikay]

So I saw this post while browsing toa tags the other day. While I don’t think being obsessed with the school mascot automatically makes Toby a furry (though it is funny to joke about lol) since “being a furry” actually just means “being a fan of anthropomorphic animals” and doesn’t necessarily require any form of costuming or interest in such, it did get me thinking, hmmm...if he was a furry, what would his fursona be? 🤔 And from there I started wondering what Jim’s and Claire’s would be as well because y not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

BUT WAIT, I hear you say--haven’t you already drawn the trio as werewolves and wolfwalkers etc.? Wouldn’t those be their fursonas??

Well yes....but actually no.

I guess it’s a little hard to explain, but there’s a nuance between “[person] but as an animal” and a proper “fursona”. While a fursona is an animal character used to represent its person, it doesn’t have to physically resemble them at all as you would expect [person]-but-as-[animal] to. For example, if you were to design me but as a cat, you’d probably give it light brown fur and green eyes like I have irl. But my fursona, unlike my human self, actually has blue fur and purple eyes. You can give your fursona matching physical traits to your own if you want to, and some people do, but most use only a pinch of their irl appearance, if any at all.

The choices people make when designing their fursonas vary wildly from “it looks like me irl” to “it looks like who I want to be”  to “I just really like this color scheme” to “this particular color/marking holds deep personal meaning to me” to “this particular pattern represents a particular defining moment in my life” to “idk it looks cool and i vibe with it” etc. etc. etc. Everyone has different reasons of varying depth for the decisions they make in designing their fursona.

Therefore, to design a fursona for Toby etc., it’s less a question of “what would this character look like as [insert species here]?” and more of “how would this character choose to present himself with his own [animal] character?”

And that’s a much trickier game than just transferring a character aesthetic to a new species. ^^; We have to kinda dive into the characters and makes some guesses about how they, if given infinite creative freedom to design an animal avatar with no rules or limits, would choose to present themselves.

So all that said, here’s what I came up with:

Starting with Toby because he’s the one who inspired the post. I think Toby might choose a wolfdog fursona. A lot of people who choose wolves as fursonas consider themselves to be overwhelmingly loyal to their friends, a trait that fits Toby very well. However, while Toby likes to be “cool”, I don’t think he really thinks of himself as much of an “alpha” type--he’s more of a sidekick, and he knows that, and he’s ok with that. He’s the wingman. So what better way to incorporate that than to add dog into the mix? Man’s best friend=Jim’s best friend. Sociable, humorous, and unwaveringly loyal. Wolfdog it is!

With the species decided, we can move on to the design itself.

I can’t imagine any form of Toby in anything other than warm colors. This is extra emphasized by the flamelike patterns on his legs and tail, which both speaks to his desire to be totally awesome-sauce as well as acts as an allusion to his flaming warhammer. It’s fairly common (not universal, but common) for people to give their fursonas a more “ideal” physique than the person actually has as a sort of way to live by proxy physical goals or fantasies they’ve been unable to attain irl for whatever reason. Given that we’ve seen Toby struggle with fitness from time to time, it wouldn’t shock me to see him take this route. His wolfdog self is still relatively short and stocky, but it’s all muscle, babey. 

This fursona is strong, fun, boisterous, and generally just kicks butt. Concentrated awesomesauce flows through his veins. Just don't mess with his friends, or you’ll feel the flames!

.

Moving on to Jim. Jim was the hardest to nail down, and most definitely the hardest to keep my personal biases out of oof. Which I may have failed to do anways because yes, ok, I made my favorite character a blue feline, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  But hear me out first!

For Jim I ultimately settling on a cheetah/lion hybrid.

Cheetahs, in a way, are sort of the underdogs (er...cats?) of the feline world--at least, in their local ecosystems. They are built wholly for speed, not strength--and as such, just about every other large predator in their environment has them beat when it comes to raw strength. Remind you of a certain Trollhunter? plus the long lanky legs. don’t forget those lol

However, because of this disadvantage, cheetahs...usually surrender. They know it’s not worth it to defend their kill from larger, stronger opponents, so they’ll give it up and just catch something else. This aspect doesn’t quite fit our protective, selfless protagonist all too eager to risk everything to save his loved ones--so a pure cheetah may not be the right choice.

So what animal is brave and protective? That’s where the lion part comes in, of course!

Why not just make him a pure lion? Well, a little similar to making Toby a wolfdog instead of a pure wolf. A straight-up lion feels a little too “chad” for our sweet Jimbo. Too much of a jock. 

Jim has the humble underdog nature of a cheetah as well as the bravery and fierce protective drive of a lion. Cheelion? Leetah? idk, but let’s design it!

Like Toby and warm colors, I don’t think I can possibly associate Jim with any color but blue. While it’s never directly stated, given that we’ve never really seen him wear any other color (with the exception of the Eclipse armor), I think it’s pretty safe to assume that that’s his favorite. Blue sweater, blue jeans, blue shoes, even his backpack and bedsheets are blue. So naturally, his fursona would be predominantly blue as well! Plus some yellowish accents to (somewhat) match the natural colors of his chosen species(s).

I imagine he originally designed the character without horns, but then added them after becoming the Trollhunter, since it became such a major and impactful aspect of his life.

His lion’s mane also continues down his back in imitation of the “mantle” found on baby cheetahs. This youthful feature could subtly represent the fact that he’s been forced to grow up too fast and take on so much responsibility so young--so his fursona can still be young and carefree as long as he likes even while his real self struggles with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This fursona is relaxed, calm, and confident. He’s not just cool--he’s crispy!

.

Lastly but not leastly, we have Claire. Out of the three, I think Claire was actually the easiest to choose--or at least, I had the clearest idea of what I thought she might go for.

Claire is a bit of an interesting duck, because while she’s shown to be fairly popular at school, she’s definitely far from the stereotype of The Popular Girl™. Yes she’s smart and pretty, but she’s also a little spunky or even a bit quirky--she’s a theatre kid, she’s a huge fan of hard rock band Papa Skull, and while I wouldn’t quite call her “rebellious” per se, she’s certainly willing to bend some rules if she feels the situation calls for it (not telling her parents that she was going to the concert with Steve, literally sneaking into Jim’s basement to try to find out what was up with him, etc).

That said, I think Claire might go for a hyena fursona--something a little out of the box, but not totally out of left field. (she also shows a slight Gurl Power™ streak here and there “the staff was not meant to be wielded by man--” “I am not a man!!!”) and if you know anything about hyenas...well, yeah lol)

I think Claire would lean into her punk-rock “rebellious” side with her fursona design. This character is completely free of the pressure of being the councilwoman’s daughter and having to maintain her mother’s public reputation, and thus allows Claire to express a less restrained side of herself. She has a bold semi-edgy color scheme with bright accents (and some earrings to match her person’s hair clips) while still remaining feminine and (her own brand of) fashionable. 

This fursona is spunky and sassy; she’s spicy and sweet all rolled up into one. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to chase it down. She lives her own life and she’s dang proud of it.

.

....sooooo yeah there’s my take on what Toby’s, Jim’s, and Claire’s fursonas could hypothetically be. And I guess since this post was inspired by a joke about Toby’s infatuation with the school mascot, here’s just some quick thoughts on how they might approach fursuiting to end us off:

Jim I don’t see as much of a suiter. He might try it once or twice if given the opportunity, but at the end of the day it’s not really his cup of tea--he’d rather act as the “handler” for his friends, if anything.

Toby and Claire, on the other hand, I could definitely see as suiters. In fact, with her interest in acting, Claire would probably particularly enjoy it--she’d be one of those suiters who really gets into character, absolutely refuses to break the magic publicly (outside of any actual medical emergency), and popular at cons because she just performs so well. 

Toby, meanwhile, would be the more chill type--uses his normal voice in-suit, isn’t really too stressed about “breaking the magic”, just kinda hanging around like he would normally except “look I’m a talking dog, cool right?”. 

also while I was typing this it occurred to be that since Eli is canonically a cosplayer then he could be a fursuiter as well; in his case i imagine he actually made his own suit it’s a protogen and it’s full of little LEDs and other electric gadgets, it’s not the prettiest thing ever as sewing is not his forte but boy did he try!! good for him. good for him

#so anyways I put way too much thought into this...enjoy I guess? #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toby domzalski #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #furry #my art

[honestsycrets]

Never and Always II: A Cold Bath.

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk wants to take an ice bath. oleg questions the reader about england.

❛  tags | verbal arguments, fear of Ivar, reader attempts to jump in sea, athelstansdaughter!reader, possible triangles, ivar isn’t the villain, implied previous ivar x reader, nsfw-borederline, oblivious hvitserk

The ice is frosty under your ass. A circle of ice had been cut, as you were told, for Oleg’s beautiful wife. After she was done with it, Hvitserk had this great idea. He slung his forest green tunic to the ground and unraveled his pants, all while you held your face between your fingertips. His hands ran together as he warmed himself up from the cold that slurried through the air toward his pale cheeks.

“What are you hiding for?” he laughs.

He’s in. You hear his body dip in-- but more than that, you feel his large hands on your calves, working up your dress from your knees. You squeak and peek through your eyes. His broad shoulders look… you gasp in a breath. He’s beautiful under the warm light of your room, when he’s pulling on his tunic, but better like this. When his blotchy and black tattoos are complemented by the frosty air. His hacksilver pendant rests on his hirsute chest. Just waiting for you to join in.

“Hvitserk, don’t--” you squeak, finding that his hands have left for the many ties on your sides. “I don’t have anything under this!”

He glances around. The unmoving guards are turned around. Like anyone would care to watch you. You might be a princess: but you’re far removed from the lines of royalty by which name you claimed.

“Since when have you cared?” Hvitserk mumbles, working them free. “Lift your hips.”

You obey. He adds another piece of clothing to the pile to the left of him, averting his eyes to yours. Was he looking? As Hvitserk offers up his battle-worn hands to yours, you realize he isn’t. He helps you scoot off the ledge and into the waiting waters-- and into his arms. Your chest bumps into his, cool waters hardening your nipples into erect peaks.

“It’s cold--” you excuse, setting your hand on top of his chest for support. You can’t help yourself: you swathe your fingers over his hacksilver pendant, tracing the golden corners of it nestled between golden hairs. His eyes linger on your finger. “I’m surprised you still have this.”

“Why?”

You press your lips together. “Paris was a long time ago, Hvitserk.”

He urges you back against the wall of ice to allow for some well-deserved distance between your bodies. You’re at a lack for his warmth, the way his hairy chest felt against your breast, or the way you had to ignore his nether regions as he swam in place.

“Not in my mind. In my mind, it was a day ago,” Hvitserk reaches for a pitcher of mead. How it isn’t iced over by now, you’re not sure. He gives you a cup and takes one for himself. “Have you and Ivar…”

“No,” you cut him off. “Not after he left my room.”

He drinks a full swash, bouncing between his pale cheeks before swallowing. You flush. “He hasn’t forgiven you.”

More than me, you’re reminded. The way his nostrils flared or heat behind his dark eyes. You’re a long way from Kattegat, but what happened… it’s there with you. You turn over in the icy pool and allow your hips to float freely while in thought. More than Ivar.

“He’ll get over it, Thor willing.”

Hvitserk joins you and finishes his drink. “We all thought he would marry you.”

You pour yourself another drink. “He proposed to me.”

“And you said…?”

You bore into the reflection of the cup.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Very well,” Hvitserk sighed, shifting himself around. With his back to the ice, he settles his arms back on the wall to balance himself. “You shouldn’t wear those rags from home. They do nothing for your body.”

The rags from home were safe. The clothes that Katya had given you were… showy. They were meant to make a spectacle. While here among the Rus, that was not what you wanted to do. You peer over to Hvitserk, “What would you know of my body?”

“I know you’ve filled out,” Hvitserk answers with his head tipped back. He lifts his head again, moving to sock your arm with his closed fist. “You should flaunt it. We might need a woman’s touch with Oleg.”

“I plan to keep myself as far away from that dog as possible.” You snap, turning your face down into your arm. Whatever the reason Hvitserk wanted you to dress more… alluringly, it was wrapped in political conquest. He noticed your body and yet, the moment that you waited for? It was… bittersweet. It was a pawn in the game of chess. “He has plenty of whores.”

“Not English princesses,” Hvitserk says pointedly.

“I am not English. I am heathen,” you splash your drink in his face. Hvitserk flicks his head to the side and then up. In that short expanse of time, you’ve pulled yourself out of the water. He watches as you snatch your brown bag of a dress and yank it over your head. “And you are a fool to think otherwise.”

“Princess,” he reaches out, catching your thigh in his sturdy grip. He applies an amazing amount of pressure to keep you in place until he can slip between your legs, floating whilst you pull the dress down. “I know I am, but I am a fool who wants to keep you alive.”

You slide out from underneath him. You could do that yourself.

Your little servant knew you hated the dress. Not minding that your legs were accustomed to slacks or that… your usual staples were drab. She was in tune with every instance of uncertainty you had. She’s a mouse of a girl, small but soft and loving. Her soft brown eyes pale and her body thin, she makes herself smaller when Hvitserk enters the room.

“What do you think?” you ask her honest opinion, spinning in place, and stopping to look at the woman in the mirror. She’s foreign to you. You gestured to your gown. “You think the boys will approve?”

She clasps her hands together, nodding with a bob of her long veil. She grins a wide gap-toothed smile.

“Why don’t you speak?” you ask her. “Are you mute?”

You swap a look as Hvitserk bounces past the wooden room divider and seizes your wrist. You had questions the girl whose presence flooded the room like a shadow and yet still slept in a bed near the door.

“There you are. You took my advice,” there’s a slight pause, then a smile. “Come, Ivar is waiting for us to say hello to Prince Oleg and his wife. Is this gold?”

There’s only so much you can ask of your Hvitserk now that he was awake and well. Apparently asking that he be attentive was too much to ask of him. His mind is constantly running; even when he is quiet.

“Yes, I think so.”

“It’s nice,” he remarks of the dress. You don’t know why you expected more. Or why it hurt when he glazed it over so easily. As though it meant nothing to him when it felt like it should have meant something. Of course, it meant nothing, you reminded yourself. He didn’t know it should mean something.

“I will see you soon,” you call back to your slave girl. She waves curtly and picks up the strewn clothes around the room.

The floors in Oleg’s castle seem to stretch for miles. All virtually the same; minus the change in the appearance of the guard. Some tall, some short. They all have the same dark hair and hard black eyes. You fiddle with the pendant of Thor that hands above your chest at Ivar’s room. Hvitserk dips inside, and moments later, appears with your once-was lover.

Ivar seems to wear all the same clothes. Baggy, ill-formed, horrendously brown. If you had to see Ivar in brown, you preferred the tunics from home. Shaped to his muscular arms, the neck slightly pulled apart, with a view of his muscular chest and the proud pendant of Thor, that matched your own, beating on his chest.

“--The dress.”

“I’m sorry?” you spoke, moistening your lips for the memory. Talk of this horrendous gown tips you off to Ivar’s voice. You lifted your head from staring at the intricate, but ugly ties at his chest to look him in the eye. He leans in and bumps into your chest.

“You look beautiful in the dress.”

Ivar always noticed you. The warmth that flooded your face wasn’t exactly something that you could withhold, not when he met your eyes with such force. He brought his hand up to your anxious fiddling and forced it to still.

“Thank you.”

“So then why would you wear it, uh?” he asks next. His nose scrunches up, bearing his gleaming white teeth.

“What?”

“He is a womanizer and here you are,” his head tilts to the side, rounding out. Here he goes. You can’t suppress your eyes rolling up as his hand twirls up your side, condescending: just like Bjorn. “--dressed in gold silks and a glistening crown. Calling for his attention! Do you not know the value of a plain dress?”

Hvitserk remains as still as the guards behind him.

“Hvitserk told me to dress up,” you hiss back. “Is that not enough?”

“Hvitserk--” Ivar bobbles his head, rolling his eyes in mimicry. “What does Hvitserk know of men? He does not even know what he wants most days.”

You let out your suppressed breath and pick up your skirts. By all appearances, Ivar was maintaining his image. He lurches out to seize your arm, stopping you in place from storming off back down the halls.

“I don’t say these things to--” Ivar breaks into a huff of air, “I say them to keep us safe. If we were home, you could wear whatever you wanted and it would not be an issue. Now stop making that face.”

“It is my face. What would you have me do?” you arch your brows up at him, challenging his words with a soft gleam in your eyes. “Wear a bag and pretend to be a proper Saxon girl?”

“You’re too mouthy for that. We could never fool Oleg like that.”

“The guards have already seen her,” Hvitserk leans forward. “Let her wear it.”

The weight of Ivar’s eyes fall upon you like iron weights. You remain voiceless when he turns on his brother like a snake, Ivar rules his lower lip in between his teeth. Then out. His expression remains hooded and dark as he starts down the hall. “This is your fault.”  

The dress does not inspire many friends. It’s soft golden silk contrasts against brilliant sapphire blue. With its long waterfall sleeves and cinched waist, you should have a family of admirers. Instead, you have a proud dog and a scowling ex-lover. Oleg hums and prompts your name.

“I have recently heard you are a princess. An English princess.”

Here you go.

“Where did you hear that?” You can play along, despite the words that had seized up the contents of your belly. Ivar was right. This was a game. Your mouth was dry with apprehension for his response.

“I’ve foreseen it,” he says sharply. Or on the lips of his guards. “I’ve not come by the manner in which my beloved Ivar came upon you so haply.”

“He didn’t. His father Ragnar and his dearest friend, my father, Athelstan did,” you told the prince in punctuated words. “My mother Judith abandoned me with them. She knew I would not survive in Wessex.”

“As a baby?”

“Yes,” you say. “But I am a heathen.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. I know a heathen when I see one. Tell me of this-- Alfred the Great.”

“I know nothing of him,” you rap your knuckles over the table. “Only that he is my twin.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. I was raised by a boatbuilder, you see. Ragnar’s cruel punishment.” You wish that he would stop asking you so many questions. It was a long time since you dreamed of England and the family that you could have had. Maybe, you could have met Ivar there. He would have hated you.

“And of England?”

“You should ask Ivar. I’ve never been.”

He leans back in his chair.

“That is fine. It has been a long day-- and I anticipate, a longer night. I hope you enjoyed your ice bath with Hvitserk.” In that split second, Ivar turned his head over toward you. The pain resurfaces a power you never knew you had over him. Regret hits you like a shield on the battlefield, forcing you to lurch in your chair, setting a hand on his thigh. Ivar’s eye snaps down to your hand over his calibers.

“What bath?”

Oleg chuckles, warm and cruel. “They bathed together in Katya’s pool. Did they not tell you?”

His head hangs, focused on your delicate palm over his firm thigh. Out of the corner of his eye, his raw stare centered on you. You have noting to be ashamed about. You were not his anymore. You had no reason to feel as if you had, yet again, betrayed Ivar the Boneless. You had done nothing wrong!

Oleg snatches the cloth to clean his face. He wipes crumbles from his beard and drops the cloth on the plate. He excuses himself with his young wife. “Let us talk of England tomorrow, Ivar. I am— interested.”

“Ivar--” your voice sounds small. Too small for a woman whose life was once wound up in being on the battlefield beside a man like Ivar the Boneless. You feel small as you struggle to explain, swirling in a whirlpool of thought. Ivar throws off your hand from his thigh and closes his eyes. With one smooth inhale and exhale of breath, he stands up. He doesn’t have to ask Igor to stand up either. The future grand prince is up, trailing his steps, a puppy after the larger dog that might as well be his father.

“You should go to him.” Hvitserk breaks the silence after Ivar’s thrumming steps fizzled out. “Explain that it wasn’t what he thinks it is.”

That earlier that day, you hadn’t felt a zing of excitement when Hvitserk’s naked chest bumped into yours. That attention of his you craved-- it was nothing. Hvitserk’s hands are turned over his clothed chest now. You try to swallow your pride.

“He knows what it is,” you turn your face toward Hvitserk. Oleg’s many servants pick half eaten gold dishes from the table in front of you. Your eyes pricked as you ran your hands together. Your gown feels somewhat hotter, somewhat harder to stand in. Hvitserk tilts his head slightly. Something wasn’t right.

“Knows what-- what is?” Hvitserk asked.

You’re a coward. If you were half the man that Ivar was, you would be able to tell Hvitserk your deepest, newly realized secret. The air in your chest was punched out. You couldn’t, not now. It aches a whole in your chest. “It’s nothing. I should go.”

You walk back to your room with a knot greater than any battle had given you. You knew why; that your stomach was unsettled by Oleg’s push for England and its riches. The rich green soil and lapping beaches that Ragnar would tell you about. Back when you wondered of whom you came from. Who was Judith? Or Alfred? The thoughts were painful to recall as the child that had been so easily sent away. The door beside you whirled open. A hand launched out and yanked you into the dark room. The buckles alerted you to Ivar’s presence.

“Ivar?”

“Hush,” the door whizzed closed again. It falls with a heart shattering clank against its hinges. You wait til the noise outside the door has settled to walk toward a singular chair among blonde furs. It looks like home. You take a seat and wait for the impending ass whipping you anticipate is careening your way. In its place, Ivar snakes forth.

“He will want to fight Alfred.”

You tilt your head. “And? What concern is that of mine?”

“You know why.”

In the West, where your brother was, you would be faced with the obligation to fight one way or another. Surely Oleg knew your reputation for fighting with the brothers. But you could not-- imagine taking the life of your brother. Even if you did not know his quality.

“It won’t be an issue unless you make it one.”

“Hm,” Ivar reaches out. You jerk back, allowing his hand to curl back in. As his hand becomes a fist, he nods through his thoughts. “Then you had better not betray me a third time.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a second.”

He slips open the door.

“You’re running away, again?”

There’s a moment-- when you think he’ll just smile and close the door behind him. After all, with Hvitserk’s rantings and ravings, it was very easy to do so. You want him the rejection that will follow. Rather, Ivar stabs the ground and maneuvers around to face your accusation.

“I wish you the best in your first marriage with my own flesh and blood,” he mocks, spreading his hand out in half of a bow. “Good night, Princess.”

He might as well have said bitch.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless/reader #vikings imagines #viking imagines #Ivar the Boneless imagines

[klm-zoflorr]

So made some character sheets for my Yuko babies ocs! I love them, it was so much fun. I really like designing clothes... Plus it helped me flesh them out a little more. Long-deserved characterisation and versions of drawings under the cut because it got way too long :)

So, Yaosa (first pannel) is the one who is raised in the Fire Nation with Zuko. You can check a little bit of backstory there. Lueni (second pannel) is the one who grew up at the North Pole with Yue. You can check her orginal post there, an outfit variation there and a potential grown-up version of her there, or just scroll her tag on my blog.

I have decided/changed it so Yaosa is nonbinary! Idk I was getting those vibes. He uses all pronouns, but mostly he/they. Full disclaimer that I am not trans, and so might be insensitive with my headcanons. Don't hesitate to tell me if that's the case! But we should be fine.

Also I am still not gonna make transphobia a thing in the avatarverse because I just don't like that stuff.

He knows how to chi block, their fighting style is very fast and agile. Ty lee taught them, she is kind of a mother/aunt figure to them. Firelord (!!) Azula kinda is too tbh, Yaosa was sorta raised by a village ahah

I think he's a firebender? I'm not sure if I'm gonna make it canon or not. On one hand it would be fun to have a nonbending royal, on the other I want to show the differences between typical fire nation values and Yaosa's in other ways. And I'm not even sure they'd keep him if he was a nonbender? One thing that's certain is that he isn't a waterbender, or he would get his ass yeeted off the palace in less than 30 seconds

Lueni is a firebender for sure tho, which causes... Problems. If they were both firebenders, she would be the most powerful. She probably has some training in weapons, sword maybe? Knives at least. Idk her shoulder plate would make sense with a sword.

Lueni is definitely the more hotheaded of the two, and the most likely to get into a fight. Doesn't mean she fights everyone she sees, tho, she just has a more headstrong and willful persona, and wouldn't stay silent if you say something that bothers her. Words are her first weapon of choice, she can be pretty commanding (and sometimes acts too much like she's the boss of you and is always right, which can piss people off) and is good at convincing people, althought she hates lying and wouldn't consciously manipulate someone. On the other hand, Yaosa often prefers to watch from a distance and calculate things. He is honest too, but doesn't have as strong a sense of justice (which is only natural given where he was raised). He can use either words or strenght on people, depending which is more likely to work.

So, now that we're done with the headcanons let's talk about the drawings. You can see that I drew variations of clothing for both of them. They depend on their stories (which I haven't quite fleshed out yet) and personalities a little bit too. Like:

Lueni's first two outfits is for when she's still at the North Pole with her mom. The first one is more of an outer wear, second one is a more relaxed/chill/inside kind of clothing. Yes, her arms are exposed! She doesn't get cold very easily, I wonder why...

Her last two outfits are for when she leaves the North Pole (it happens at some point in the story. Idk when and idk why). Since she is from the poles, she has trouble handling high temperatures, and if you add to that all the fire play going on... You can see I added a belt and knee + shoulder reinforcment. I just thought that was a realistic touch for someone travelling around and getting into fights.

You can see her style of clothing is a little bit fancy, but definitely not unpractical (especially the last one) She likes being able to move around, and wouldn't be able to do so as easily with clothes like Yue's princess outfit (and her big skirt). Add to that the fact while she is technically a princess, she's not that legitimate. So she is allowed to not be as proper as she should be, which she is very happy about.

She very rarely lets her hair down, prefering to keep it in a practical ponytail. Plus, she can keep her hair thingie/crown visible this way (she is proud of being apart of her family and royalty, even if there are some points she dislikes). I gave her a bone necklace bc i thought it looked cool.

Yaosa doesn't have different weather outfits since their story happens mostly at the same place, aka in the fire nation/earth kingdom.

However, his style of clothing changed depending on whether he has to act like the Fire Nation prince or if they're left to chill on a boat. I imagined when the story takes place he is on their own Avatar search? Everyone in the family gets a part in this, ahah. Anyway, he doesn't like formality when he doesn't have to be formal, and so doesn't wear armor at all times (or... Ever, tbh. They're kind of a pacifist, fight avoidant too)

So, the first outfit is the typical fire nation armor, of course. Second one is a long, thin cotton coat that I thought fit them pretty well. The short sleeves are maybe more suited for hotter temperatures. He keeps the usual fire nation boots for this outfit. I also added some random bandages on his arm, it doesn't mean anything particular.

The last two are the same outfit, with different poses. I don't have anything particular to say about it, apart from the fact I fcking love it.

I think he has kind of a hermit/wise vibe to him. I really like it, think it fits his think-before-you-fight vibe. Think about a kind of Zuko but without the anger issues. Oh, and he usually braids his hair because this way they don't get hair in their face while fighting, but can also sport a top knot or just hair down (althought less often because he thinks the braid makes him look cool and nice). They have a blue decoration to tie at the end of the braid, it's from Yue, Zuko gave it to them. He always has it on him.

Well, I think we're done. I had a lot of things to say :3 If you ever redraw any of those (don't forget to give credit of course) don't hesitate about harrassing me on every social media so I'll see it xD (my instagram is @/he.artane). And as always, feel free to ask any questions!

#lueni #yaosa #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #yue #princess yue #yueko #yuko #zue #klm-zoflorr #top tag #oc #atla oc #zuko x yue #atla fanart #fanart #art #drawing #artwork #digital art #digital drawing #reference sheet #character reference sheet #original character #my art

[rosekasa]

thank u for tagging me @anna-scribbles !! i loved looking through the art you picked out for yours they were BEAUTIFUL and i LOVE YOU

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

fic

new marinette - this!!! was my baby!! new marinette was my baby and i was so proud of it and i loved writing it so much!!! this was one of those fics that just felt so natural to write. it’s literally 12k+ words long and not a single word of it felt forced or difficult for me to write, and i wrote this with so much LOVE. it’s also the fic that a bunch of mutuals of mine read and commented on in the google doc and actually brought me closer to a lot of people which is ;___; so sweet. i adore this fic so much

a happy ending - i’ve always wanted to write a fic based around chat blanc and i was so proud of how this one turned out. before this fic, i’d only ever felt comfortable describing emotions and stuff on very few occasions, but i feel like this fic was the one that really helped me get better at it (not that im great at it now but. IT WAS A POINT OF IMPROVEMENT). i loved this line so much:

“This is my ending, Marinette,” he whispered. “And I’m spending it with you. I’m the happiest that I could be.”

it made me so sad but i uh. Snapped TM, if you will

the sky is more blue - aka 5.8k Words I Wrote While Pulling An All-Nighter. i literally had school the next day and decided to stay up all night and write this fic while listening to malibu by miley cyrus on repeat. i literally felt like i transcended the realm of reality while writing this fic. i love it but i was Not Alive while writing it DSKFJHSDFD but i think that’s what makes it so special?? i got it all out in a very short time and was SO invested in it while i was writing. i love adrienette so much and i wrote their dynamic in a way im quite proud of in this hehe,, also i really like my descriptions of the beach and the sea. imo my writing was quite good here

like poles of a magnet - THIS FIC. THIS MOTHERFUCKER. I BAWLED MY EYES OUT WHILE WRITING CHAPTER 6. i wrote the first 2k words of this wayyy back in may and then suddenly got REALLY invested in december and pounded out 10k words in, like, three days. i also did not shut up about it for three days because it felt like my brain had pushed out everything else to focus on this fic. writing this made me realise how gotdamn BEAUTIFUL enemies to lovers is and how i really do want to write some more at some point. also ladybug spitting blood at chat noir was the best thing i’ve ever written ever and i think about it everyday

art

original post

look at him. i love him so much. this was the first Proper yoosung i’ve drawn since i was 14 and i remember looking at it and thinking “if i showed this to 14 yo alizeh and told her this is how her art is gonna look in 3 years she wouldn’t believe me.” the process i used for this was. Weird. and i dont think i’m ever gonna use it again DFHDSJKSD but it turned out?? really nice?? i love the shading sooo much AAAAH 

original post

this was actually a birthday gift for @macaronsforchat but omg i. was so proud of this. i still am. it’s currently my lockscreen photo for my laptop FSSDSFKJ... this piece happened so. Easily? i’d been feeling really good about my art around this time and trying new things and i was so proud of the colouring and the pose and just ?? how i drew this in general. i really love it so much hehe. also the best boys are here so. how can i not love it.

original post / full comic

i drew this because i felt myself hitting an art block and getting frustrated and really needed something to relax and have fun with. AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS. i drew most of this while sitting on @renisalittlecrazy  ‘s floor and as soon as it was done i literally put my head in my hands and yelled about how much i loved ladynoir. i love them so much man. i would die for ladynoir and this comic was so soft. i really liked this black and white colouring style i used and i wanna use it more often with my comics !!

original post 

this is. very recent. but listen im so happy with this and im so happy with my art at the moment. i’m breaking out of the limitations ive put on myself to follow certain ‘rules’ (e.g., forcing myself to draw using a certain ‘’’’’’’formula’’’’’’’ to try and maintain my art style) and am instead treating every illustration like a puzzle i have to try and solve using my creativity, not a rulebook. it’s so liberating and so fun and i’ve really fallen back in love with drawing again. i experimented so much with this piece and i’m just so happy with how it turned out, and like. isn’t it nice that on the last day of 2020 i drew something i was so happy with, and had such a good relationship with art?

ANYWAYS THIS WAS FUN AND IM PROUD OF MYSELF SDJDFSFDS im tagging @macaronsforchat @jattendschaton @emsylcatac @hanaasbananas @aerequets @itsnabychan​ and @ladynoirist if u guys havent done it already!!

#♡alizeh talks♡

[deer-knight]

I love asking questions about people lol, so sorry if this is really weird. Where'd you get the archery/sword experience? Have you been backpacking? If so, where's your favorite place you've been? Some of you favorite books/authors? What's your favorite part about teaching/working with kids?

alright, i wanna honor these questions with proper responses, so i’ll just tag this as a long post and y’all can deal with it :P i’ve bolded the different questions so you can read whatever you’re interested in.  ARCHERY: i started fashioning self-bows and arrows in my parents backyard (which was just about 3 acres) when i was 11, just going on what i knew bows and arrows to look like. i shot at trees and rocks and i’d do it for hours and hours after school. my parents are strongly anti-weapons and the only reason i ever got into archery beyond my backyard bows was because of my grandfather, who gifted me a longbow for my 13th birthday and brought me for a few lessons with a junior olympic coach he happened to know. then armed with some proper equipment and a couple of lessons the rest of it was just practicing in the backyard at primarily self-made targets of foam and cardboard.

and i practiced religiously. nearly every day, for at least an hour or two, i’d be out there. i briefly joined an archery range the following year, and nearly outshot everyone at the first tournament, despite being the only one under the age of 30, which i am proud of to this day. 

i continued my practice and love of archery up through high school and uni, but gradually fell out of consistent practice just cause i no longer had the space once i moved out of my parents place. i’ve taught archery for girl scouts and now teach primarily primitive archery at work. so in essence, i’ve come full circle - back to self-bows and shooting at trees in the woods.

SWORDPLAY: most of my swordplay experience is from modern olympic foil fencing, which i did from age 13/14 to about halfway through uni, which is when i discovered sca rapier fighting. somehow i managed to convince my parents it wasn’t at all dangerous or violent (which it technically isn’t - it’s really quite tame, at least if you don’t fence sabre). i mostly fenced foil, but my high school team was tiny, and i filled in wherever bodies were needed, so i learned a bit of everything. i did however break my ankle when i was 16 during a fencing bout, which required surgery. i couldn’t walk for 6 months, but i was back at it again as soon as i was cleared, and having good footwork became my top priority. 

as for sca rapier, i was at a local renaissance faire and saw one of their fight demonstrations. i noticed that the techniques looked awfully similar to épée fencing, but the swords looked far more beautiful and certainly more substantial as weaponry. needless to say, i was intrigued. i asked their table how to get involved, and i started attending their practices the very next weekend, never to pick up a foil again. i’ve been fighting with my local group and learning from my sca peers ever since.

since then, i’ve received my award of arms in large part due to my rapier dedication, i’ve won one local rapier championship, and ranked 15th in my very first large scale tourney last year, one with close to 80 participants. at work i teach kiddos the basics of swordplay, using foam swords i constructed of pool noodes, pvc, and duct tape. 

BACKPACKING: no, i haven’t technically been backpacking, but i love hiking and i’ve covered most of my local peaks. ^_^

FAVORITE BOOKS/AUTHORS: this has been a difficult and shifting thing of late, as academia crushed my adolescent love of reading and i took a long break from reading for pleasure post-uni. 

that said, the kingkiller chronicles by patrick rothfuss and the stormlight archives by brandon sanderson were my absolute favorites in high school, and having reread them recently to try and rekindle my relationship with reading is a difficult thing. they are not the perfect books i romanticized them to be, but i don’t think i can dismiss entirely the good they did for me as a depressed teen. i loved the storytelling, i loved the worldbuilding, i loved the quality of the writing and they way it let me escape for a while. would i recommend the books to anyone today? probably not. i’m searching for better ones. 

it’s likely i simply didn’t notice the misogyny or lack of queer representation as a problem because it was what i understood to be normal, and being a daft and obliviously closeted trans queer kid, the only thing i knew how to do was repress and avoid conflict. 

i don’t know if i can call those books my favorites anymore. i’ve thanked them for their comfort when i needed it, but i’ve let them go. for now i’m on the hunt for books i can actually see myself represented in. 

FAVORITE PART OF TEACHING/WORKING WITH KIDS: hm. i think it would have to be their creativity - the way they ask questions, their curiosity and their different ways of figuring stuff out, and beyond all - their gorgeous imaginations.

there are certain kids who, like me, really just want to learn, to soak up every bit of all they touch and see and hear, and to never stop trying to get better at the stuff they love. one of my students got their first coal using a bow drill this fall, after having tried for years but never quite being strong enough. a new student struggled to cross a fallen log that spans a shallow ravine, too scared of falling off to walk it like a balance beam. they worked at it for a while, crawling out on their butt or hands and knees and then backtracking when they got too scared. by the end of the day they could walk across it, still some fear in their eyes but the confidence of practice in their chest. 

i love when kids come back from their “sit spot” (20 minutes of quiet time alone in the woods) to report that they had made a new friend in the form of a tree or a fern or a squirrel that sat near them on a stump for a while. sometimes their new friend has a name and a story, sometimes they don’t. sometimes they were visited by the fairies or the voices of the wind. 

and sometimes they take a foam sword to the face and they cry, their arrow doesn’t fly as straight or as far as the others, or they say mean things to one another to protect their own pride and insecurities. sometimes they cut themselves while carving or they get clotheslined by a tree branch, and sometimes they bicker and argue about who did what, and that’s part of it too. we ask them what they notice in their bodies, how they feel and we figure out what those feelings mean and where to go from there. that’s beautiful too. 

so, it’s all my favorite. i couldn’t ask for a better job. i’ll most likely do this forever :P

thanks for the questions! i’ve tagged all “about me” kinds of questions with “& lore” so if you want to ask a question but don’t know if i’ve already answered it, check there first! my about me page also has some basic stuff there ^_^

cheers! &

#long post #& lore

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 11: Love Story

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,771

Warnings: fire, injury-all end of season three things!

Author’s Note: Happy belated Strangers Things 3 Day! I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I didn’t have it in me to work. This is the end of the series, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was a fun little ride!

Series Tag: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @jisungiesluv @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion33 @awkwardnesshabitat @darkcrystal-wolf @hannahrisacher

Paris was a lonely city. You’d arrived alone, having not seen Steve since prom and still desperate to see him one more time. You’d selfishly kept his sweatshirt, wanting a piece of him to take with you to a different country. Your mother hadn’t picked you up from the airport, having sent a car instead. She didn’t seem much interested in speaking to you after months apart; she was much more interested in redecorating her new condo and talking about her fiancé. You met him, a French fop named Jean-Pierre at least fifteen years her junior. He was nice enough, although a bit fruity for your liking. His interests were more on the modeling jobs your mother was getting him. She had no time for you, which was fine since your lessons at the salon began immediately.

You and thirty-five other young hopefuls spend your days locked in a studio with abundant resources and endless models and objects to sketch. And you hated it. You hated the long, rambling lectures from the artists who came to the salon to preach the values of the school and the importance of French art. They alternated between speaking in French and English without explaining themselves as they switched tongues. Your French language skills were nonexistent, so the lectures were exhausting and endless. The only time they ever seemed to help was when they brought you all to the Louvre to examining the long dead French men who’d made the museum possible. There, you could at least sketch out the greats and enjoy the beauty of the art. Inside the studio, you felt as though your head was going to explode. The lectures spoke too loudly and loomed over you without warning or word, you weren’t allowed your headset or Walkman in the studio to combat them, and the smell of various paints and clays made your stomach churn. The girl who’d taken up the easel next to you, a little German named Lisle, had taken to making clay pots and sculptures and the sound of her pottery wheel mixed with her incessant humming made you want to commit manslaughter. It didn’t help that the smell of the brown clay invaded your sinuses and made you sneeze violently. You dreaded the salon. But you dreaded being at home more.

Your mother had hired you a French tutor, utterly horrified by the fact that you hadn’t been practising. You tried to tell her that, despite her assumptions, Hawkins High had stopped offering a French elective two years before you started there.

“You cannot live in Paris without speaking French! It won’t do!” she moaned. Jean-Pierre was already on the phone, speaking fast into the receiver. You didn’t see what the big deal was. Everywhere you went, people spoke enough English to communicate with you fine. It didn’t occur to you till after dinner that if you were to study in the country, you’d need the language to understand your lessons.

So you got a French teacher, a short tempered older man who insisted on being called Monsieur Bérnard. His greying whiskers moved sharply as he spoke and he often spit on you as he taught proper pronunciation and conjugation. He ranted and raved all afternoon, disgusted by your apparent lack of an ear for languages and your doodling on the edges of notebook paper instead of working. You’d go from sensory overload in the salon to being bullied by a Freud-looking asshole each day with no room for a break or a breath.

You lived for weekends. Rest was very well thought of in the city so the hell spawn tutor didn’t work and the salon locked its doors. You were allowed to wander the city at your leisure, your mother glad to have you out of the apartment. You’d spend most of your days sat at a café near the Eifel Tower, a prime spot to tourists. Every day, you’d bring your sketchpad and try to draw out the profiles of those you passed you by. You spent two weekends working on a sketch of people sunbathing on the lawn in front of the tower. But it seemed you left all your talent in Hawkins. You’d spent so long drawing familiar faces back home, now that you were away from your nest, you found yourself without the skill to capture the faces around you. It occurred to you that you knew the faces of Hawkins far too well. They were engrained in your mind, your hand working like a stamp to put them on the page. France was full of strangers. You didn’t know how to understand them like you understood Hawkins. France wasn’t home. You couldn’t work out in a world of strangers.

You couldn’t work in the salon either. It was too much. Everyone was constantly showboating and trying out-do one another. You couldn’t work with people spying over your shoulder. You felt judged and insecure about what you could do. You didn’t want to be watched as you tried to make art. It didn’t help that you had no idea what to make. The closest thing you’d gotten done is that sketch of the Eifel Tower and that wasn’t something you couldn’t buy on the streets around the monument. You’d tried all the things that you couldn’t in your bedroom-paint splatter art, pottery, carving, paint pulling, mosaics. You never finished anything. The drive to push through wasn’t there.

When the loneliness and fear became too much to bear, you held Steve’s sweatshirt and cried. It still smelt like him; Irish Springs soap and Fabregè Organics shampoo and hairspray and a bit like sweat. It was nice though. You missed him. You tried to write him letters, but you knew that they wouldn’t get home before you did. You’d made up your mind that whatever the answer was, you were going home. Whether that meant deferring a semester or missing the first week of school you would go back to Hawkins. Still, you’d written over a dozen letters, all crumpled in your waste bin.

You waited until the last minute to finish something for submission. You’d tried to sketch your mother, to find who you knew in the fancy woman in front of you. With her bleached blowout and designer clothes, thirty pounds lighter and yellow gold jewellery glinting in the midday sun. She looked like the epitome of elegance, straight out of a magazine. The woman you remembered had greying roots and love handles, her only jewellery the wedding rings your father had given her. Europe had changed her into someone who you didn’t know and who didn’t seem to want to introduce herself to you. Nothing you drew seemed to capture the middle between who she was and who she is now. You realized in her profile that you weren’t a part of her life anymore, that she didn’t want you there. You were as strange to her as she was to you. You passed each other like ghosts in the hall, almost recognizable but hauntingly foreign.

The day before your final piece for submission was due; you got a letter from Steve. It only had one sentence.

“I should have asked you to stay.”

It was all you needed to hear to be inspired. You made your final project a tribute to him, mixing memories with unfinished letters building into his face. You used plain black ink to sketch his profile on the surface of the mess, building him into your loneliness. You only had your memory to recreate his face and your own letters to fill the canvas. Still, it was the only thing you’d done the whole time you were in the country that you were actually proud of. You didn’t finish it until the sun rose and you handed it off to be judged without a second thought, bleary eyed and exhausted.

You were on a plane home by the wee hours of July 4th.

Hawkins was a depressing place. After graduation, Steve found himself listless and at the hands of his father. He was a failure, a disgrace of a son. He was unready to start into the family business. His grades were pathetic. He had to get a job. Of course, with no job experience and late to the game, no decent place wanted him. The new mall only offered him one place of employment, Scoops Ahoy. And the uniform was embarrassing. Stupid sailor shirts and matching shorts, fucking knee socks and a corny paper hat. He looked like a certified geek. And his co-worker was a freak. Robin fucking Buckley did nothing but bug him all shift. It didn’t help that he had no friends without you, even Dustin had left for some nerdy science camp after the school year ended.

He was alone and lonely.

He tried to write you a half dozen times. But nothing seemed to make sense, nothing was worth telling you. What was he supposed to tell you? That he had become an even bigger loser overnight? He felt so utterly pathetic. He just wanted things to go back to the way things were. But what did that even looked like anymore? It wasn’t a life with Nancy, she’d dumped his ass, and it wasn’t a life with you, you’d left him for a different continent. He didn’t have a clue where he was going anymore. So he did what any lonely, practically friendless teenager did-he worked his ass off. Eight hours every day in the mall with smart ass Robin Buckley, waiting for the ground to suck him up. And sure, he tried to hit on the girls his age that came around. It was a good distraction from his broken heart. He’d made up his mind that he was ready to move on and try to date again. That he needed a girlfriend. That he needed to be cool again.

And then, Dustin came back and Hawkins started acting up again. He thought it was over. Those damn dogs were gone, the thing was closed, the kid was safe and acting like a kid. Everything had gone back to as close to normal as he’d seen it in awhile. But Dustin just had to find a secret code and Buckley just had to decode it and Lucas’s bitchy little sister just had to be small enough to fit into the vents and find a secret Russian elevator. And they just had to get stuck in it.

He couldn’t keep that damn kid from seeking out trouble. And yeah, it was kind of fun in a scared shitless kind of way, but it wasn’t worth getting drugged and beaten up and nearly dying for. And it certainly wasn’t worth getting tricked into thinking that he had feelings for fucking Robin. He could murder that kid for getting it in his head that he liked that girl. Robin was cool; he wouldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a decent friend to have at the end of the world. But he didn’t need the embarrassment of trying to ask out a lesbian. At least the reason for her rejecting him wasn’t that he was unattractive or lame, just that she didn’t dig dudes. He was cool with that. And at least he got to punch out a communist. If he could tell his father that without going to prison or being murdered by a Russian goon, he’d be proud. Fuck that, he was proud. He won a fight! He beat up a Russian spy! More than one, he beat some up while drugged out; at least he thought he did. He couldn’t remember much, other than watching Back to the Future with Robin. That movie was too confusing. And then he stole a car, he saved Nancy’s life, he set up that weird tower thing for Dustin-there was too much going on to even recognize how crazy he sounded. How crazy all of this sounded.

And then, the mall was on fire.

Your flight landed on the fourth of July at about ten fifteen in the evening. It took about forty-five minutes to get from the Indianapolis International Airport back to Hawkins. You were buzzing. Seven words had given you all the hope you needed to push you back to the states. Every fibre of your being was alive with energy, with excitement. You couldn’t wait for your grandfather to park the car, you jumped out as soon as you were settled in the driveway.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and unpack?” your grandmother called after you as you booked it down the driveway.

You turned back “No, I’ll be back later!” you called. Steve’s car wasn’t in the driveway but you figured if anyone was home they’d know where he was. You bounded up the stairs, ringing the doorbell twice.

Mrs. Harrington came to the door in her bathrobe. “Oh, hello there…” she trailed off, obviously unable to remember your name.

“Y/N, hi it’s nice to see you, do you know where Steve is?” you asked, bouncing from your heels to your toes.

Mrs. Harrington narrowed her eyes “He’s at his job I assume. At the mall.” She said slowly.

“What mall?” you demanded. Mrs. Harrington’s eyes blew wide open and you realized that you were probably coming off like an insane person. “Sorry, I’ve been out of the country for about a month.”

“It’s where the Hawkins Laboratories were, off East Wood Road.” She pointed out the door towards the roads. You knew instantly that the fastest way to get there was through the woods. You ran through the backyards of your neighbours and into the woods. You didn’t like the Hawkins forests. They were dark and dim and poorly maintained. The county hadn’t been out to cut down potentially problematic trees on the few hiking paths in the woods.  Burs caught your socks and twigs scratched your legs as you hopped logs to try to get there faster. They’d carved a road through the woods, you’d found it halfway to the mall, deserted and blocked off. You could see the bright orange flames from a mile away.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Steve was in there. You could cry.

Instead, you hopped the blockade, running down the road despite the calls of passing fire trucks and police. You didn’t care if they tried to arrest you, although you doubted that they could. It would be a waste of time to bother with you during an emergency.

The parking lot was filled with emergency vehicles. Massive streams of water were attacking the building. Luckily, it seemed the mall was closed, judging by the few people who were milling around not in uniforms. You sprinted into the crowd, looking around frantically.

Steve had been ushered into the back of an ambulance and draped in a bright orange emergency blanket. It wasn’t that cold but he felt as though he was freezing. The EMTs had checked his vitals and disinfected the wounds on his face and knees. As for the remaining drugs in his system, he chose not to mention them. He knew that the high would wear off eventually. Robin was sat next to him, equally bandaged up and silent, save an uncontrollable shiver. Wordlessly, Steve took the blanket off his shoulders and placed it over hers. He wasn’t that cold. Moreover, he just felt numb. He’d had this happen so many times; his face beat in, an otherworldly thing trying to destroy his life and hurt his family, a major building destroyed-it all felt familiar. It made him sick to his stomach to know that it was familiar. If he had anything left in his stomach he would’ve thrown up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something running towards him. At first, he tensed. He didn’t know what it was and it could probably kill him. His heart stopped and then raced wildly. He held out an arm to protect Robin and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Steve!” you cried. He was in an ambulance. He was hurt. He was alive. You felt as if you could cry. In the span of fifteen minutes he’d gone from working to escaping a fiery building to missing in a fire to simply hurt. And hurt was just fine, you could handle hurt.

“Oh my god Steve, are you okay? Are you alright? I love you so much…”You grabbed his face, examining the bruises. You pulled him tightly to your chest, trying not to cry or freak out. You knew it wouldn’t help.

“I love you too…” he breathed into your ear, pulling you close to him. He recognized you by the smell of your hair, the feeling of your arms around him. He could cry. He didn’t believe you were real. But when you pulled away and his hand came to your face. You were real. And you were here. And he was safe. He was safe and alive. Feelings of relief rushed through his body. He wanted to cry, but the shock was too overwhelming for a tear to even drop.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and hoarser than he’d ever felt it. “I thought you were still in Paris.”

“I came home early,” you chuckled, pressing a kiss to his jaw bone. “I didn’t get in.” That was the nicer version, the judges laughed at your final piece, they called it pedestrian. You should’ve been more upset, your mother was furious, but you couldn’t have cared less. You were free to go home. You could’ve thanked them for rejecting you.

Steve pulled away, looking you squarely in the eye. He wouldn’t have you give up on school to hang out with him in bum fuck Indiana. But you were telling the truth, it was written plainly all over your face. “Those bastards…” Steve murmured. You laughed, your eyes watery and throat thick. You were overwhelmed. You expected to come home and just see him in his element. You expected him to not necessarily want to see you. You didn’t expect a fire or Steve being injured or Steve to even be there at all. You pulled Steve back into your arms, you didn’t want to let go.

“I missed you so much…” you whispered. Steve’s arms came around your hips, pulling you in between his legs. He needed you here, to keep you in place for awhile.

“I missed you too…” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Did you get my letter?”

You looked up “Yeah I did…” you said “I wish I had written you, I tried so many times but I couldn’t find the words and-” Steve kissed you hard, stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t care if you didn’t write him back; this was the best thing he could’ve gotten from you. A letter wouldn’t do it justice.

You were lit up by his kiss. This is what you needed. No words could do the feelings he expressed in his kiss justice. You felt alive. You felt at home. Steve tried to pull away, but you pulled him back by his shirt, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. You couldn’t be sure anymore.

A loud clearing of one’s throat interrupted you and you pulled away to see Robin waving awkwardly. “Oh hey Buckley…” you muttered awkwardly. “How’s Samantha?”

“No clue, she never called me back.” The younger girl shrugged nonchalantly, hopping down from the ambulance deck. “I’ll catch ya later, Harrington.”

You turned your attention back to Steve, looking down at the material still in your fists. He looked ridiculous. “What the fuck are you wearing?” you asked with a laugh. Steve’s hands settled on your lower back, holding you in between his knees as if you’d run off if he didn’t.

“Oh this? This has been my whole summer.” He groaned “I’ve been captaining a boat on an ocean of flavours.” You couldn’t help but cackle, you had no idea what he was talking about but he seemed so serious.  

“And by that you mean?” you lifted the fake red neckerchief attached to his shirt, running the material between your thumb and forefinger.

“Ice cream store in the mall,” he pointed to the embroidered Scoops Ahoy logo on his breast.

“You’re kidding…” you shook your head as if to shake the idea out of your mind. Steve’s fingers trailed the raggedy edge of your sweatshirt. Well, his sweatshirt, his last name and basketball jersey number were embossed on the back; he could feel the textured design on your lower back.

“I like my sweater,” he chuckled, reaching up to adjust the length of the drawstrings on the hood. You looked away, a bit embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean to keep it I just…missed you,” You replied “You can have it back.”

“Nah, it suits you,” he smirked “Besides, I want my girl in my stuff, it’s cute.”

“Your girl?” you grinned giddily, elbowing him in the ribs. “Since when am I your girl?” You liked the idea of being Steve’s girl. It had a nice ring to it.

Steve smirked, squeezing your hips in his hands. “Oh come on baby, you’ve been my girl for awhile…”

“Oh really? Well, I wouldn’t know since you’ve never asked me…”

You heard a loud yell and turned to see a set of paramedics carrying a stretcher towards you and Steve. They were sprinting and bringing a badly burnt and unconscious Billy Hargrove towards the ambulance you sat on. You quickly moved out of the way. Steve grabbed your hand, allowing you to tug him from the ambulance’s deck.

You only got a brief look at the teenager, but it made your stomach churn violently. You felt ill. You felt Steve squeeze your hand. You turned to look at him and saw how hollow his eyes were. You wrapped your arm around his middle. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, trying to stifle a yawn. You were exhausted from your flight and your run here and the trauma that had smacked you across the face.

Steve noticed anyway “Did you just get here?” he asked, lifting your chin.

“My flight landed at ten, I came to see you as soon as I could.”

“You should’ve gone home to rest, I wouldn’t have been mad at you.” You looked absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t imagine what he looked like.

“I missed you too much to not see you. And what if you had gotten hurt, if you hadn’t made it out then I would’ve never forgiven myself…”

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, shielding you from the scene, as more mangled people were brought out. The beast must’ve fallen apart once the brain was destroyed. It looked as though a bomb had gone off. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to leave, but he knew that the FBI would be called and he’d have to talk to them again. He wanted you to go home, but that didn’t seem like an option now.  Selfishly, he liked having you there, it was comforting to have you in his arms, squeezing him under his ribs and keeping him calm.

“I’m not gonna get hurt, I’m okay…we’re okay…” You nodded roughly against his chest. You felt as if you were burning up and freezing at the same time. You saw blinks of red flashing lights and sirens as one of the ambulances sped past. You were so thankful that he wasn’t on that ambulance.

“Yeah, I know, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight ever again.” Steve lifted up your chin, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? Last time I did you nearly died and for what? A shit job in the mall?”

“Well, not just for a job, I was helping Robin and a couple kids who were with us,” That wasn’t the whole story. Steve knew he’d have to tell you eventually about everything, but for now he was more than comfortable ignoring the looming problem beneath their feet.

“What a hero…” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Something had been bothering Steve for awhile now and he determined now was the best time to tackle the subject. He turned away from you, folding his hands in his lap.

“Did you mean it when you said that you loved me?” he asked quietly. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain that you meant it. Or if he had even heard you correctly. After Nancy, he wasn’t sure if anyone actually loved him back. He’d given so much of his heart away only to have it tossed to the floor and tread upon like it was nothing more than a cigarette butt. He wasn’t sure if he could trust that you meant it.

You let out a small sigh through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. You were a bit embarrassed. You were half hoping that he would forget about it. Your response brought all of Steve’s hopes crashing down. “Yeah, yeah I do,” you admitted, rubbing your arms, having suddenly gone cold. “I will admit, I hadn’t planned on saying that this early, feels a bit middle school to say that you love someone before they’re even your boyfriend.”

Steve turned to look at you once again, a bit surprised. Your face had gone red, adorably red, but still very red and your gaze had turned down to the asphalt at your feet. He reached out and took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Good,” he said with a smile. You turned up to look at him; brow furrowed “I thought I had like imagined it.”

“Oh…no you’re good.” You said slowly. He looked like a little puppy dog, his whole face was radiating sunshine; it was almost hard to look at. It was harder to not match his energy, to get drunk off it. Then again, no one was stopping you from just enjoying the moment. You let out a small breath, not so much heavy with sadness or regret, but simply exhaustion. You let your head rest on his shoulder, smiling softly despite the scene in front of you. If it weren’t for the smouldering building and the emergency vehicles surrounding the pair of you, it would almost be romantic. The fact that you were even trying to find romance in the scene felt a bit silly, but maybe that was what this was supposed to feel like. Finding love in a burning building was a bit dramatic, it certainly not what you’d expected for your life, but you determined that no matter what you’d keep Steve safe. You had no idea what was going on at this scene, you had no idea what happened. But no matter how scared you were, you knew that Steve must’ve been even more scared. You knew that you couldn’t protect him, the same way that he couldn’t protect you, but maybe together you could keep each other safe for awhile.

“I love you too, you know,” Steve said quietly, his gaze trailed on the smoke of grey smoke coming up off the extinguished fire. The front of the mall had crumbled and the giant neon ‘Star-Court Mall’ sign shattered on the pavement. You hadn’t seen the mall before the fire, you didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but a cavernous jagged mouth probably wasn’t the design goal. Still, you turned your attention to the side of Steve’s face. He couldn’t face you, the tips of his ears bright red underneath his flat, sweaty hair.

You swallowed hard “I know,” you say softly. Steve turned to look at you, examining your face with a nervous expression. You smiled and nodded reassuringly “I know.” Steve smiled and laced his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hand tightly in his and you squeezed his back, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours the only feeling left in your body beyond the giddy buzz. You didn’t know how any of this worked, you didn’t know if you were doing this right, if there was a right way to do it. The buzz under your skin was two parts anxiety and one part excitement. But you didn’t pull away. You were glued to his side.

“You know, I think that was one of the first normal conversations we’ve ever had,” Steve mused.

You scoffed loudly rolling your eyes “That was not normal.

Steve shook his head with a small laugh “Yeah, I know…”

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