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tidcl · 16 hours

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Hi, I have a smau request for Charles (based on c.ai bot lol, and the fact that I love painting), so the reader is invited by her friends to a house for vacation, her friends are all with their s/o and they also always try to set up reader with someone, that's when her and Charles meet, and reader finally gives it a chance because she knows her friends won't stop to set her up. They talk for a whole evening about what they do in life (reader is an artist/painter) and they get along really well. Eventually they get together and reader is very liked by the public, even if there will always be haters, but most fans thinks she's just very adorable (especially because of her insta/twitter posts)

CL — slip up and i call you baby

pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader

summary: you love your friends, you really do. you just wish they’d stop trying so hard to set you up with random guys. [smau + written fic]

fc: faceless

word count: 5.1k

warnings: mild sexual references

a/n: this is such a cute idea! thank u so much for sending it in!! u will not believe how much this idea gripped me like i never write one shots like this its just unheard of for me if im honest. anyway i know u asked for a smau so i will be doing a second part/continuation to this that is solely an smau to make up for that. (ALSO sorry for disappearing i was super sick for the whole week and have been getting my shit back together in the aftermath😭)

(yn’s messages)

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ynusername italy we are in u!!!

Amalfi Coast, Italy

You’ve never been particularly boy crazy. At least not the same way your friends are.

There have been a few not-quite boyfriend’s over the years, but those relationships never last long. They never really get you, or they never really get the art thing. Which means, of course, that they don’t get you and never will— and that’s fine, you’re content with that. If living for your art means you’ll never be in love then so be it and frankly, good riddance to them.

For the most part, you’ve given up trying. You go on a few dates here and there, but you never let them stick around. Even the ones that seem interested in your paintings you don’t bother with— none of them really seem to be able to grasp what art truly is to you. It isn’t just paint on a canvas, it’s living, it’s breathing. You are only yourself with a way to make art.

It’s difficult to put into words.

So you don’t. Instead, you send texts that say ‘thanks for your time but this isn’t working out’ and you keep the men your friends try to set you up with at arm's length. You placate Chloe and her partner Rowan– who collects friends like they’re Pokémon– with, “he wasn’t my type” and “I’m not looking for a relationship right now”, which you suppose is true, but also isn’t the entirety of it. Yet, every time without fail, there’s a new boy at the scene of the crime.

Chloe doesn’t get it, none of your friends get it. You don’t try to explain it to them. So, y’know, here you are again.

Anyway, here’s the thing: they’re getting closer. Inexplicably, without knowing how you really feel about it all, Chloe and Rowan are getting better and better at picking the boys who are able to tempt you. Which is a pain really, because sometimes you’re trying to have a perfectly nice vacation in Italy without the lure of a boy you can’t let yourself have. But alas, these things generally don’t go your way.

You should know that by now.

Charles Leclerc is bang on the money, he really is. He is unbearably cute, like so cute that you have to leave the room when he walks in, because you don’t trust yourself to be in close proximity to him right now. You have a hard time looking at his face when you are forced to be around him. The dimples when he smiles, the squint of his eyes even when he isn’t. If you look too long you’re liable to stare and that wouldn’t lead to anything good at all.

He’s nice as well. So nice, just like Chloe told you. You try to pretend he doesn’t exist and he still asks you questions about your job and the area of Monaco you live in— like he’s even interested, like he’ll remember you two weeks from now. You try your best to be pleasant, to answer without it being like pulling teeth, and to ask questions of him as well. You’ll probably see him again after this, so best to not to go too far and act like you hate him. It’s difficult though, toeing the line between friendly and encouraging of more. Or it feels difficult for you. Charles doesn’t make even the slightest suggestion of the two of you being set up by your nosy friends. That’s unbearable too. Part of you wishes he’d just make a clumsy pass at you so you can rebuff it and make your intentions abundantly clear. But, obviously, he doesn’t, because he’s perfect or something.

It sucks. You hate him, you think.

Or you want to.

On the second day of the trip, you’re on the villa’s private beach, laying in the hot sun. Chloe, Anaïs and Bea are there; everyone else is either still sleeping off the wine from last night or swimming in the glittering ocean. You’ve got a secondhand book, a 2B pencil and a pair of sunglasses over your eyes. You’re trying to read but you just end up doodling, drawing your friends bikini-clad bodies over the text and shading grapes into the margins. Trying desperately not to accidentally put Charles Leclerc’s dimples, messy hair, or sloped nose to paper.

“So,” Chloe says conspiratorially, as you abort an attempt at drawing a slightly squinted eye with thick lashes, “What do you think of Charles?”

You raise an eyebrow carefully at her over your sunglasses, betraying nothing of your inner turmoil, “I think nothing.”

Anaïs laughs, rolling onto her back, “That’s such shit. You practically sprint away from him everytime he comes near.”

“I do not,” you answer too quickly.

Anaïs laughs again, louder. Chloe joins in and Bea raises her eyebrows at you like you’re a fucking liar. You frown, glaring a little before stubbornly turning your head back to your book. The conversation about Charles ends there, but unfortunately your actions have spoken for themselves. A chill of something like panic chitters up your spine and into your shoulders. You have to roll them to make the feeling go away.

As the sun climbs higher in the sky you lose some people to the heat and gain others. It’s just you and Chloe sweating onto your towels when Rowan and Charles finally give up on whatever game they were playing in the ocean. Rowan collapses unceremoniously into the space between you and Chloe, kicking up sand and getting water droplets all over you like he’s a wet dog. You let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and an exasperated groan as you roll away from him, landing in the sand.

“Watch it,” you cry, “You’re getting my book all wet.”

Rowan laughs, “You’re drawing in it!”

“So.”

He pulls a face at you that makes you roll your eyes; then he turns into Chloe, shoving his face into her collarbone and flinging limbs over her. You snort, leaning over to snag the book off your towel before it gets dragged into the mess that Rowan is causing. You’re about to get up and go inside until you realise Charles is still standing there. Has, in fact, been standing there since Rowan ran over. Your breath catches, heart skipping a beat as you look up to find him standing there.

“Hey,” you smile briefly at him, quickly looking away from his damp hair and bare chest (–which is difficult to do because, holy shit–) so you can gather up your towel.

“Hi,” he replies.

He might smile back. You don’t look. You’re trying to get the image of his washboard abs out of your head. This proves difficult when you clamber to your feet and find yourself face to face with him.

“Are you heading back?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

God, you want to kick yourself. You’re being so awkward, and right in front of Chloe too, who may not be watching but is absolutely listening to you make a fool of yourself in front of a guy you have very firmly said that you are not interested in. It must be clear to him too, that you’re trying very deliberately to not be interested in him. You cant tell what would be worse; if that means he’ll think you’re a weirdo or if it means he’ll take it as a sign that he should make some kind of move.

Ugh.

“I’ll come with you?”

“Hmm,” you blink yourself back into existence, seeing the questioning look on Charles’ face, “Yes, yeah. Sorry.”

You say goodbye to Chloe and Rowan who barely look away from one another, still rolling around in the sand like teenagers.

“Gross,” you say to Charles, as the two of you trudge through hot sand toward the sandstone steps that lead up to the villa.

He laughs, a breathy thing that tapers off with a sigh, “A bit, yes.”

You don’t say anything else, but you find yourself staring at his back and the way his muscles shift and move underneath his tanned skin. At the top of the stairs you part ways, he smiles at you and you offer something awkward in return, trying to pretend you hadn’t been looking at him. You don’t think he notices, but your cheeks red burn anyway.

You don’t see him watching you leave.

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chloegarelli hungover, sunkissed and lovesick

Amalfi Coast, Italy

Dinner is a huge affair, as it always is on these trips.

You, Anaïs and Chloe spend three hours in the kitchen that afternoon making chicken fricassée and about a hundred different side dishes to go with it. Everyone crowds around the dinner table to eat and drink even more wine than the night before. Piero Piccioni plays on the old record player, crackling away as you laugh and talk and tell stories with your friends well into the night. You watch the sun set through floor-to-ceiling glass windows and you wish wish wish that you had your paints right now.

You brought along a set of oil pastels and one of your art notebooks, but it doesn’t compare at all to painting. If you could get your hands on cadmium yellow in all it’s hues, maybe vermillion and a powder blue, your lack of paintbrush or canvas wouldn’t even matter. You’d use your fingers if you needed to. It bothers you so much that you get up in the middle of clearing away the meal and go to your room for the pastels and notebook. You need to get it on a page at least.

You push a few plates to the side, folding out your notebook and immediately marking the page up with a creamy white pastel. Bea teases you when she comes over to take the rest of the dirty dishes, but you just mumble something unintelligible, too engrossed with smudging the sunset into something that looks like what you’d seen out the window. When the oranges and yellows blend to your satisfaction you take the black and brown and draw in the top of your friends’ heads, not thinking about how much attention to detail you’re paying to the shape of Charles’ side profile.

When you’re finished, you’re surprised to see that the table is cleared save for a few half-full wine glasses and a fresh bottle. Only Chloe, Rowan and Charles are still sitting by you. You’re listening to another Piero Piccioni album now, or maybe just the other side of the record. You remember saying goodnight to the others and saying yes to a glass of wine, so you’ve not been totally dead to the world, but it’s all in a bit of a haze.

You think this might be part of the reason why you can’t hold down a boyfriend. The disappearing into your art like you cant breathe until it’s finished. That may as well be the case if you’re honest.

You sigh, wiping your stained fingers on the next blank page, then you take a long sip from your glass of merlot, pretending you dont notice the others’ eyes on you.

“All done?” Chloe quips, somewhere on the border of teasing and being annoyed at you.

You look at her, your eyes just narrowing enough for her to notice. She does and purses her lips. You raise an eyebrow to ask okay, what’s your fucking problem? And you see her eyes flash to Charles. You follow her gaze to see him and Rowan pretending to look disinterested in your answer. Charles is tracing the base of his wine glass and absently biting the inside of his mouth. You have to tear your eyes away.

“All done,” you answer, tone clipped, before gathering your things (including the wine glass) and leaving the room in a move you hope doesn’t come off as too rude.

At your back you hear Rowan ask Chloe, “What was that?”

Chloe means well, you think as you wind through the villa, making your way to the balcony overlooking the private beach. She wants you to be happy and she thinks you need a boyfriend to be happy. But she’d found the love of her life in Rowan after only a few years of dating around and she doesn’t quite understand that it’s never going to work like that for you. There aren’t enough people out there that understand the kind of passion you have for your art and certainly not many that would also be compatible with you. You’re fine with that, but Chloe doesn’t know what to do with it. Especially not now she’s cottoned onto the fact that you have some kind of interest in Charles. It’s killing her.

It’s irrelevant though, whatever interest you have in Charles doesn’t factor into anything. He’s cute, he’s nice, but so were the dozen boys that you’ve already dated and not continued dating. So really, Chloe needs to stop pushing it because it’s pissing you off. You’re here for a holiday, not to be forced into conversations with a guy you don’t know. If she needs to have an argument to finally understand that, then so be it. You’ve been friends for years, it’ll blow over eventually.

You flick a switch and blinking lights illuminate the balcony. Fairy lights are wound up the posts and draped on the awning, intertwining with the lush green vines that have grown up through the wood slats. The air is balmy and the breeze light as you settle into one of two cushioned chairs situated by a coffee table. It’s perfect. You spread the oil pastels out next to your glass of wine and set your open notebook on your crossed legs, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

You’re alone for what feels like a long time but is probably only an hour or two.

When the sliding door clunks open you expect it to be Chloe coming over to have it out, but it’s not. Instead, Charles slips through the gap with the rest of the wine gripped in one hand.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling at you in a way that makes dimples carve in his cheeks, and dashing any hopes you have that he’d walk right past you.

“Hey,” you forget yourself for a moment and bite your lip on a broad smile.

He holds the bottle out toward you, offering more. You lean over your notebook and hold your empy wine glass up in acceptance.

“Merci,” you say, and in a moment of weakness (and probable wine drunk-ness) you gesture at the plush chair across from you.

Charles, somewhat caught off guard, looks between your outstretched hand, the chair, and your face, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly and finally taking a seat. Despite his apparent shock, you find it hard to believe he’d come out here simply to offer you some of the last of the wine. Surely, this is Chloe and Rowan’s doing. Though, strangely, you cant quite bring yourself to care.

He sets the bottle on the coffee table, next to your oil pastels. You lean forward to place a few back in their rightful spots, snagging your wine glass as you go.

Charles eyes’ scan your face for a moment, searching for something you suppose, then he points at your notebook, “Have you been drawing?”

You nod, “Mmm.”

You think perhaps the answer is a bit obvious. He seems to realise this, you watch a blush spread onto the top of his cheeks and he flutters his eyelids slightly, almost like rolling his eyes at himself. You don’t think about his eyelashes, thick and dark as they brush against his cheekbone, and you don’t think about his eyes, the lights reflecting off them, making them sparkle.

“What are you drawing then?” he asks after a moment of collecting himself, an edge of embarrassment to his voice.

You give in easily to the strange urge you have to show him, grabbing the notebook off your lap and holding it out for him to see what you’d been scribbling in the book for the past two hours. You let him take it off your hands, ignoring the spike of anxiety. He holds it gingerly, like it's a precious artefact (of course, to you, it is), which makes something warm bloom in your chest. You take a sip of wine and gesture for him to flip through a few pages, which he seems hesitant to do without permission. The book is angled in such a way that you can see most of the page, so you’re content to let him. Or at least you are until he flips to the page you’d started when you’d first come out here.

Panic drops like a stone in your gut because he’s looking right at a fully rendered drawing of his eyes. It’s in amongst some pillars strung with lights and covered in climbing vines; your best attempt at capturing the way the beach looked earlier in the day; and, perhaps your saving grace, Chloe half asleep on her towel. But the drawing of her is haphazard, it’s half-scribbled and half-finished, whereas the one of Charles eyes’ is as detailed as the sunset scene you’d done the page before. It had been something you just needed to get out, drawn in one of those hazes of yours. You’d felt better after it was done, your hands had stopped feeling like they were itchy.

Now, you itch to snatch the notebook off him, but you fear that would be even more incriminating. So you watch him look at the page and try to sit with the panicked feeling spreading in your chest.

Eventually, he points at the page, “Is this me?”

You bite your lip, breathing slowly through your nose to try and abate the blush spreading up your neck. You don’t say anything exactly, just shrug and rock your head back and forth in a kind of confirmation that doesn’t really admit anything. Though, there’s no denying the drawing is him.

“It’s good,” he says, seemingly stumbling over the words, “It’s very good.”

You frown into your drink, “Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

You know he means it. It’s not that.

“Yes,” you put down the wine glass, looking at him but avoiding eye contact, “I know. I know it’s good. I’m just… I’m embarrassed,” you admit.

He furrows his eyebrows– or it’s more that he squints and his eyebrows fold in with it. You watch his tongue dart out to run across the top of his bottom lip and you stamp down the less than innocent thoughts that come bubbling up at that. He waves the hand that’s not still holding carefully onto your notebook about for a moment, trying to conjure up words that he doesn’t have yet.

Slowly, he says, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. I– It’s–”

He’s about to say flattering, so you cut him off, not wanting to hear the tone of it, whether it be pity or something else entirely.

You try to explain yourself, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Like after dinner,” you reach forward and flip the page back one, to the sunset, “I have to get it onto paper. Or… or… it just runs laps in my head for the rest of eternity, I guess. I don’t stop thinking about it.”

You cringe internally. You’ve just told him that you were so consumed by thoughts of his eyes that you had to draw them immediately. That is perhaps worse than just wanting to draw him because you thought he was cute. Charles raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your admission, but there’s perhaps also something sincere in there? You can’t pinpoint it, but it makes you feel a fraction better you think.

You sigh forlornly, “That’s weirder, huh?”

He laughs, properly laughs, and it sends some strange feeling skittering down your spine, “No. No, I get it. I don’t have any way to get it down as quickly as I’d like, but I definitely understand the feeling.”

You bite the inside of your lip, hesitant but still curious, “You understand the feeling? Really?”

“Yes,” he smiles easily now, relaxing more in the chair after he places your notebook onto the counter with a cautiousness you still don’t expect, “For me, with racing, it’s like I get an idea and I can’t sleep until I try it on track or talk about it with someone. Some of them don’t work, or aren’t possible, which is fine, but if it sounds right to me and it checks out with the people that it needs to, then, well, then it literally does run laps in my head.”

You laugh, mostly to yourself. You’re not sure yet if he understands what you’re saying, but he’s trying. That’s more than you can say for a lot of people. You try not to let that thought linger for too long.

“You think it’s similar?” you ask in a way you desperately hope comes across as curious and not accusatory.

He hums, waving his hand around again for words, “Perhaps. I think the urgency is the same. The passion is the same. Do you ever feel like something terrible will happen if you can’t–”

“Yes,” you’re a bit breathless in your haste to agree, to talk about this feeling with someone who understands, “Yes. I do. It’s like I need to put it somewhere before I lose it. Otherwise, it won’t be perfect, or it’ll be too late.”

“Exactly,” his eyes seem to light up, for a long second you watch the flickering lights reflect in them, “Exactly.”

“It’s never as good as I want it to be,” you admit, finding it easier to look him in the eye now that some strange barrier between you has been broken, “It’s never quite how I imagine it in my head.”

Charles points at your notebook, “These are very good, really. I don’t see how they could be better. But,” he shrugs, “Eh, I will win a race and still think of everything I did wrong.”

You nod eagerly in understanding as you lean back into the chair, finally relaxing into the cushions. It’s strange to have this conversation, knowing you’re talking about two entirely different careers, but feeling like they’re so similar. Maybe it’s just you and Charles that are similar, maybe your jobs have nothing to do with it? You don’t know, you just know it’s nice to feel like someone gets what you’re talking about.

Charles continues, speaking like he’ll explode if he doesn’t get this off his chest, “It’s there all the time, do you know what I mean? Maybe I’m not thinking about it every second, but it’s always there waiting for something to draw attention to it. And people ask what else is going on in my life, and of course I do other things, and I enjoy other things, but I want to be on the track. I want to be driving whenever I can.”

You nod again, more subdued now, “Mmm, right. I want to be making art all the time, and when I can’t it’s like missing a limb. To me art is– it– it’s like–”

“–breathing,” he finishes, almost the lilt of a question to it, but not really, it’s like he knows exactly what you mean… how you feel.

You exhale, long and slow, “Yeah. Like breathing.”

Both of you are quiet for a little after that. You’re trying not to stare at him, but it’s not easy. He’s looking at you almost blatantly and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks the longer he stares. The air feels thick with some feeling you can’t place. All you know is there are butterflies in your stomach and a smile keeps pulling at the edge of your pursed lips.

The smile takes over as you catch him starry-eyed in your peripheral vision, you mutter, “Stop that. Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

You tip your head back so you can’t see him looking at you, “Because.”

“Because?” he laughs breathily, shaking his head at you, “Okay, well, tell me if I’m misreading anything, but I’m pretty sure that drawing of me in your notebook says something, at least.”

You run a hand down your face, sighing loudly, “Yes, okay. I suppose it does. But– I–” for a moment you struggle for the right words to explain yourself, “I guess I’m not really looking to date anyone.”

He tilts his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows and looking for all intents and purposes, like a confused puppy, “You guess?”

You nod, resisting the urge to just launch over the table and grab his face. He is very cute and he is making this so hard for you.

He sucks his teeth briefly, shrugging, “I’m not really either.”

“Alright,” you say, “Good.”

As over as that should make the issue, strangely enough it doesn’t feel like you’re done with Charles Leclerc and it certainly doesn’t feel like he’s done with you either.

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Amalfi Coast, Italy

You try to avoid Charles after that, you really do, but he doesn’t quite let you.

For a few days of the holiday you give him pointed looks and purse your lips a lot when he’s around. Chloe catches on straight away and that makes it all infinitely worse until she finally realises she might need to leave you alone (yeah, shocker). When Chloe finally forces everyone to get off your back about Charles, it becomes much easier to be around him. You’re not glaring at your friends while they make eyes at you, or worrying if you’re acting weird; you’re just allowed to be.

It’s nice. He’s nice.

But you knew that already.

Neither of you are looking for a relationship so there’s no pressure for it to be anything at all. But you have this sneaking suspicion that perhaps both of you are looking for a relationship with eachother regardless. You try to ignore the thought.

On day five, you’re sitting together on an outcropping of rock that overlooks the ocean and you’re letting Charles doodle in your notebook with a ballpoint pen. The bare skin of both your arms are pressed together, they stick with sweat from the hot midday sun but neither of you seem to care. As you watch him doodle inexpertly you can smell him— salt and sweat and whatever cologne he uses masking the very faint scent of burning rubber. Your hair, still damp, brushes his forearm, you wonder if you smell of acrylic paint and mildew from all the water cups you accidentally leave out for your paintbrushes.

You reach out to trace a line he’d made, “Here, it should be more like…” you taper off, taking the pen from his hand and quickly fixing the curve of the beach before handing the utensil back.

“Hmm,” he hums, giggling a little, “I guess that looks better.”

“You guess?”

He nods, “What if I had a very specific vision?”

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, leaning back to look him in the eye you tease, “A vision. Did you?”

He tilts his head down to look at you. You’re very close now, you can feel his breath fanning over your face. In the reflection of his sunglasses you watch your lips part slightly and your eyelids flutter. Your chest grows tight with anticipation and maybe a little bit of panic. Still, you reach out and slide his sunglasses up to settle in his hair. You’re a little careless, but you like the way his hair pokes out from them at odd angles. As he breathes out you hear it catch for a split second.

“Did you?” you repeat, knowing he won’t remember what you were talking about.

He blinks twice, still staring at you, “Hmm?”

“You said you had a vision,” you breathe.

“Oh,” as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your mouth, only for a second, but it’s long enough to you know you’re done for.

You both lean in at the same time, your noses sliding off each other in your eagerness. You breathe a kind of laugh into his mouth and you feel him try to suppress a smile against your lips. It’s slow for the first few seconds, just you and Charles figuring out how your mouths fit together. His mouth is warm and wet and so soft, and it’s easy to lose yourself in it. You move the hand that had adjusted his sunglasses, sliding it up his shoulder to the back of his muscled neck. Your fingers weave into the short hair at the base of it, your nails scratching absently there. He groans, ever so slightly into your mouth and it sends heat skittering down your spine, into the low of your gut.

The hand of his that isn’t clutching onto your notebook slips forward and winds around to press at your bare back. He pulls you closer to him as you slide your hand up to cup the back of his head, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Soon it’s a mess of tongue and teeth and Charles blindly shoving your notebook somewhere it wont slip into the water so he can grab you with both hands. He tastes like red wine and coffee and you love the way his fingers dig into your skin and the way his teeth have been grazing at your bottom lip, like he wants to sink into it.

You’re almost in his lap when you’re forced to pull away for air.

Foreheads pressed together, you breathe heavily into the space between you. Your hand is still stuck in his hair and one of his on the small of your back, the other holding your knee. The sides of your noses touch, you nudge yours against his affectionately, tempted by the proximity of his mouth.

He laughs and you feel it against your lips, intermingling with your own breath, “Alright. That was–”

“Yeah,” you finish, dipping forward to kiss him again.

You’re lost for another few minutes. Tongue and teeth and the sound of the waves crashing against the rock behind you. And his hand on your jaw and in your hair and pulling you closer closer to him.

He pulls away this time, turning his head to press your cheeks together, mouth at your ear, “So,” he drags the word out with a laugh, “are you looking for a relationship now?”

You snort unceremoniously, and tease, “Hmm. I guess I would be amenable to that.”

“You guess?” he asks— but not really needing to at all because you can feel his dimples pressing into your cheek as he smiles knowingly.

You nod, smiling too, “I guess.”

🎨 yes of course i made a playlist>> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6cAJaZjvK0V7SrmxoMosBX?si=ADlJGHxxQYKnlZ1jWFJxfw&pi=a-AI0MKbo3RTqE

taglist: (pls message if you'd like to be added to the taglist for charles. my yuck! one is full so need to start a new one😭)

#charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc smau #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x artist!reader #⭐️requests #⭐️asks

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toadallytickles · 7 months

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Made it home safely from another successful tickle gathering~!🪶 This weekend was SO MUCH FUN, I felt like I deepened a lot of connections I’ve made previously, had a really good heart-to-heart with a good friend, and felt some parts of myself heal. I heard some things I really needed to hear. I already know drop is gonna suck..

Anyway.. need someone local to quench my constant tickle thirst.. tickle gatherings are too far apart..! 😩💦

#I love gatherings.. so wonderful to see everyone again and feel at home~ ❤️#And I had my very first house party experience and I felt like I belonged! and probably drank the most I’ve ever drank lol #But yeah- so wonderful to feel some parts of myself heal~ everyone is so awesome~ 🥰#And it was so nice to deepen some connections and make new exiting ones!#super excited to share some content too! I think you’ll really enjoy it~ 🤭#my posts #BellaBash #tickle community #tickle gatherings #tickles #text

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astranauticus · 10 months

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Do mechanites cry?

#rolling with difficulty #vrla rwd #mrsn rwd #vr la rwd #mr sn rwd #art i made #yet another thing i drew then just fully forgot to post LMAO #man i had to listen to 3.7 like 3 times for this. goddammit #easter egg: the 4 big infernal books in the shelf all say contract law like its a textbook series i guess #the small one next to them says Doctor Faustus bc i was looking to my irl bookcase for inspiration #and the christopher marlowe play was one of my alevel lit texts #also i think it would be really funny if the devils have their own version of the story of the deal with the devil guy #honestly this may have been the kinda. last straw of my burnout cuz this was a lot of time spent on a lot of stuff im really not good at #and none of it turned out... exactly how i wanted but oh well. it is what it is #ok the kinda annoying thing about me spending far too fucking long drawing super emotional scenes like this is i kinda #desensitise myself to whatever im drawing. like i felt it the most with the demon possession comic i casually tossed into the discord #bc thats the exact kinda angst i personally LOVE but it just doesnt have the same punch after ive been staring at it for 5 hours straight #(anyway go read cal's fic about it its on ao3 and its bloody good)#all this to say. when i first listened to 3.7 and austin had that exchange of like #'noir can i ask you a lore question' 'sure..?' 'do mechanites cry?'#i straight up got fuckin CHILLS. and sometimes i forget that but i try to force myself not to

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burning--heart · 5 months

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The Grinning Man is Not a Horror Show

this post brought to you by: my own personal experience trying to show this musical to people (which i have already talked about briefly) and also this post by castledock:

the mainstream media’s perception of LHQR is almost always “well I haven’t watched or read it but this guy looks scary so it must be a very disturbing and scary book/movie” and every time I go outside of my little circle of LHQR Appreciators it’s like being slapped in the face by Ableism

i’m spinning this off into my own post because the essay got Long and also it’s definitely about tgm and not lhqr. strap in y’all.

like, ok. you see the pictures online. the protagonist has a bloody bandage on his face, the lighting is moody, and the puppets are creepy i guess (but they are so charming once you see them in motion)…

i’ll be focusing on flesh-and-blood adult grinpayne and his face. does it cause him a lot of grief? yes. is it central to the show? absolutely. but are you meant to be scared or disturbed by it? no. if you were, then yeah. this would be a horror show, and a bitingly ableist one at that. but it’s not.

there is one single moment where we are made to see grinpayne’s face as horrifying, and even then it's... well. it’s not about his smile being grotesque. not really.

it happens when his frustration at being kept as a spectacle because of his face reaches a tipping point. he bites back. "i'm the stuff of your nightmares," he says, "i am the freak show! watch me smile!" it's not an empowering moment. he is gutting himself for his audience.

He removes his bandages and reveals his jaw - a huge nightmarish bloody grin. Horribly unhealed. Red. Raw. Glistening. It's there, and then it's gone. “Laughter" riff crashes in and the world tilts.

Above is the stage direction from the script. Note that the “Laughter” motif is identified by name.

We can see how this was executed onstage in Bristol: The reveal is accompanied by sickly green strobe light, Louis Maskell as Grinpayne snaps his head to the side, there's a brief blackout, we are jumpscared by a giant grinpayne puppet head in the same green strobe, blackout again, then it’s on to the characters' reactions.

It sounds horror on paper. it looks very horror in Bristol. and yet the characters react as though they've just seen heaven. what's up with that?

here lies one of the biggest challenges the grinning man has: its empathetic theme gets easily muddied by the reactions the other characters have to grinpayne. generally, when experiencing a story, we look to the characters within it for cues on how we should feel about its topics, and they guide us through it. this is especially true of media aimed at children. the grinning man is... not like that. the royals and the people of the fair see his face and they are instantly enlightened! with sudden clarity, you're him, and he is you!

the audience doesn’t get it.

but i don't think we're supposed to.

Song lyrics like ‘you realise that you are him and he is you’ explain to us Grinpayne’s effect on his audiences, but we are never shown that experience nor are we invited to feel that experience ourselves. (Brendan Macdonald, Exeunt)

this reviewer was close, very close, but has jumped to conclusions and ended up shutting the door on the idea that makes the musical make sense. its true that we are told how the other characters see grinpayne, and we don't get to experience that for ourselves. but the thing is, while we are told one thing, we are actually being shown something entirely different.

characters in his audience look at grinpayne and we are told they have an earth-shattering revelation. we hear them explain it multiple times. despite this, their reaction is not what we feel. this is the part that's unintuitive.

here’s where we circle back to the face reveal. the dramatic imagery clashes with what the fictional audience is seeing and feeling. this is because we, the non-fictional audience, are not supposed to be putting ourselves in their shoes at all. the character we’re anchored to is grinpayne. and to him, this is not a triumph of self-discovery. the horror isn’t in his appearance, it’s in how people treat him because of it.

and when it comes to the characters’ revelations, it’s not really about grinpayne anyway. it’s about themselves and what they project onto him, whatever that is. grinpayne is a symbol to almost everyone, whether they see him as a gruesome face, a lord, or a god. they don't understand him when they look at his face.

the audience of the grinning man, unlike the characters within it, are provided the opportunity to connect with grinpayne on a deeper level. we get to dive into his head like nobody else. this is why “Labyrinth” is a big deal (this is also why them changing over half the lyrics to this song at the transfer is a big deal). this is why dea’s love for him is a big deal: she sees him for who he is, and has from the start.

we also get to see the “real” grinpayne (and even love him for who he is), but unlike the characters’ sudden (and shallow) enlightenment, our understanding of grinpayne is gradual, but truer because of it. it builds slowly and perhaps unnoticed throughout the show until you’re fully immersed; it’s something that you feel, not think. though, if i had to pick a moment, personally, it would be “when they are gazing at my grin / what is it that they see within?” from “Labyrinth” because that line knocks me on my ass to this day.

and. surprise! this deeper understanding is also why i think this show is a musical and not a straight play. nothing has the emotional capacity that music does. we aren’t just told the way grinpayne feels; his songs allow us to feel with him in a way that spoken word never could. that’s how we connect.

at the end of the day, this guy still has a bloody face. and some people are going to see this and assume that tgm is horror. but hopefully if they watched it they’d change their minds, because the grinning man shows us the most (and only truly) disturbing thing about grinpayne’s injury is the cruelty and misunderstanding he faces at the hands of a miserable world where “laughter is the best medicine.” and “I Am the Freak Show” may contain the moment with the strongest “horror” visuals in the show, at least in the original production, but it’s actually a crucial example of why tgm itself is not a horror show itself.

#the grinning man #grinpayne #burning thoughts #this is over 1k words btw #thanks for reading if you made it this far #also i specify bristol in this post not to differentiate it from london but to differentiate it from the script #aka everything brought onstage that is not present in the text. this is not a version differences post #also i didn’t want to mention it in the post since i don’t feel like digging for the source and it’s not super relevant to my point #but louis maskell Has said that “i am the freak show” is the most difficult and emotionally taxing part of the show for him to perform.#and no fucking wonder honestly. have you seen this guy’s energy during this number? it’s unbelievable.#peace and love. hope i made sense. goodnight <3

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synthaphone · 1 year

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‘ohh this animal isnt really cool or interesting, because people have heard of it’ well sorry you cant appreciate both popular and unpopular animals but im different

#one of the most annoying things about following animal bloggers #where its like i would love to learn more about your favorite obscure insects or whatever #but its so annoying when its obviously like. ‘oh i hate mammals because everyone loves them’ theres so many cool underappreciated mammals #like you dont have to have an interest in stuff you dont care about or blog publicly about it #but you also dont have to like. performatively shit on it. it just makes me take you way less seriously #especially when its a super broad category like ‘an entire massive group of animals’#i need a text post tag #negative #also yeah its their blogs they can say whatever nbd. it just makes me annoyed and trust their judgement on animal facts less #complaining because im waiting for my mom to use the bathroom so i can take my shower #shes having a political argument with my uncle. i want to get off mr bones wild ride

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impostorsshow · 5 days

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I'm thinking about my 7 year old oc again

My "little" rant is below the read more so I don't clog up your feed and there's descriptions for the art with a bit more information in the alt text thingy. I add alt text with personal comments to most of my posts but I saw a post somewhere saying most people don't even realize the feature exists, so I'm just. I'm stating it here it exists I use it

While Jessica was experimented on by an entire institute, there was one main person overseeing the experiment, and that was the guy up there. The original experiment was to see what happened when you combined animal DNA with human DNA, since in this fake world genetic science is a bit farther than ours today, and this particular facility had successfully given animals different attributes, such as a rat gills and and chicken a tail like that of a cat. Despite both those creatures dying within hours, this corrupt motherfucker decided to try and get a human subject, and Jessica's family needed the money. Thankfully, not only did the test of giving her dog dna [idfk I'm a cat person give me a break on the breeds] worked, it turned out she was much harder to kill, and had not grown as expected from a 14 year old girl who's going through puberty and in turn growth spurts.

Anyway yada yada she broke out find out she's immortal whatever. Other notes :

She has a brother. I forgot his name but he did have a name, and was later submitted to the facility before her family found out she was missing at the age of 19 and survived, but he gained a compromised immune system and I might give him mobility aids. His color scheme is mainly green and yellow and I always think of those aesthetic pictures of the shoreline when I think of him. Jessica meeting her brother [now technically 23] is a very big help to her recovery, and while her brother is accepted and loved in their home town, Jessica can't bring herself to come back and usually asks him to visit her on the edge of town or at her house, usually bringing along friends. Eventually the main scientist dies by her hands and she covers it up ["cmon gromit, we have to hide the body! There's not cheese and crackers in hell, gromit!" /ref], and a few years later the facility is shut down due to malpractice and Jessica slowly starts to actually visit the town and her parents. They never have the same relationship they used to, but her parents are just happy she's safe and sound and being taken care of.

Jessica will eventually outlive Flora and inherit her belongings, as Flora lived alone her entire life, her photography career and later Jessica being more than enough to make her happy. Jess would start managing her social media when she got older, and never had the heart to delete anything, inviting her distant family to the funeral and arranging for her to be buried in the woods near her home. She's still visibly 14, and would simply live later with her brother in Floras old home and take care of it the best she could. Her story is about moving forward, and as such, you could say she has an infinite epilogue, rather than my other ocs who never get an ending, and the ones that do are frozen at the very end of it, not meant to go any further.

Jessica isnt meant to be aroace, but I heavily imply it because her never aging causes complications, and this isn't really a vampire example. She and her brother are the only one of their kind, and her brother is still destined to fall at some point, aging slowed dramatically rather than completely stopped. I used to consider giving her a love interest for hours on end, but eventually her being 14 would interrupt it and I just gave up. Flora however, is aroace, sex adverse and is the reason she chose the lifestyle she did.

Speaking of Flora, dispite living in the middle of nowhere in the woods, she's quite the extrovert. She loves nature, and used to be a wildlife ranger before her photography career took off, and often travels around the world to capture wildlife. When she found Jessica and found out she had run away from home, and didn't ask any questions after until they had more trust built up between them, simply providing shelter and care that eventually became a permanent roommate situation. She slowly worked up to taking jobs around the world again, but now that Flora had someone to come back home to, she booked her flights to make sure she could be home as much as possible. I think if Jessica was a normal girl and somehow found her way to Flora, they would spend weeks in Paris and Britain together, Flora never leaving Jessica behind on her trips. Unfortunately, werewolf science experiments would never get past TSA.

I don't know if I've ever said this but hey I'll say it again she used to have actual wolf dna, hence werewolf, hence Jessica Winterwolf, but I learned to draw wolf ears from gacha life and I genuinely didn't know what to do about it and couldn't think of another way of drawing them without them looking like cat ears, so I just made them floppy like a pug. Also Winterwolf is because winter is Jessica's favorite season.

Similarly with Jessica's ears originally being gacha life, I actually conceptualized her fully for the first time with a designed I liked in there, and one of the bits that stuck was the fact that she has crescent shaped pupils that are a lavender shade.

Her existence was heavily inspired by a series named "Harrowed Past" which has now been taken down by the creator, but the characters still live on, you can probably find it if you search up "pip and twitch thedragonhat" which I think is who made it?? Oh well I'll edit the post later if I'm wrong. Twitch was actually the first piece of art/fanart I ever made with the purpose of getting better at art, and I really wish i still had it, but I can't even find a picture i took of it or anything. Unfortunately, the character is really hard to find since his name is shared with the giant streaming site Twitch. I haven't watched the guys stuff in a long while but I think he uses twitch as his main vtuber for streaming nowadays which is cool.

#auegh i forgot the tags i use for jessica #oc art #original ranch dip #art #talk talks #im aware the alt text is for screenreaders but i find it useful to add extra notes in there #its like a little extra secret that not everyone will care to look at but the ones that do get a little reward #and all of my art posts would be like 100 words longer if i didnt use it #i know most people literally do not care and that im actively discouraging people from caring about my oc my making such long posts but #i dont care i love her and i need to talk about her #the tips of jessicas ears as well as her tail used to be purple too but i scrapped it when i changed them from wolf to pug #also i forgot her tail in the bottom image in arguably. the one angle that you could actually see it but im not retaking that picture #that took so long to get correct i dont want to do it again. her tail is also like a pugs though it used to be super long and fluffy and now #its usually curled up against her back or hidden in her skirt which makes it easier to hide #her lab coat in her alt design was how she used to hide it though

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