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#either way never finished a comic before
head-in-the-icloud · 2 years
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TW: bit of eyestrain towards the end
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:)
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angelhound · 1 year
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#have been writing lately instead of painting and idk…. how i feel about that#never have i considered myself a writer#i mean i write bad romantic poetry sure. but im writing fiction. novels if u will. and i Like it. :/#its uncomfortable. idk. maybe if i make companion paintings itll feel less obscure. perhaps a web comic will come out of it#ive never been into structured writing ever ever. but it felt… salty. like sweat drying on your skin. gratifying. to finish a whole piece.#it was a fit of mania perhaps. and i have more still bubbling there is much to create. i just have never created in this format before#hate it almost. digging my heels but its pointless to resist where the water knows to go you know? i cannot feel this way about painting#if that is not what is meant to be made at this time. the wild horse of inspiration will not bend to my comfort#yes i know i am an artist in the worst way. yes im aware of how i sound. i am not proud but i suppose i cannot either be ashamed#if i cannot be another way#idk i always wanted to be an airhead lol. before anyways. my grandfather does not understand his gift is as enviable as my own#hes not an airhead you could not imagine so after listening to him. but he is enigmatic in that way.#socialized better maybe. the gift of living as you imagine because you are not imagining at all#i never wanted to be reclusive. driven by fits of madness. but i dont have another way known to me#the life i imagine is lived by those who are not imagining it#but idk i think less nowadays. it helps to figure myself an unsocialized dog. something to be solved by careful hands#ugh. god with how i talk sometimes i wonder how it surprises me to become a pos writer. who else talks like that#anyways im incredibly ill still lol going to again attempt to shower the virus out of me
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osaemu · 1 month
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SHARING IS (NOT) CARING: PROFESSOR!DAZAI
✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: he has to teach your class for the day, but there's no way either of you will be able to focus with you sitting in the front row.
contents: fem!reader. college AU. professor x student. not proofread and written in under five minutes. i forgot how to write dazai, whoops. i'll probably write more in this AU later on bc i think it has potential. -1K words.
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professor!dazai is well aware that he shouldn't be romantically involved with a student, but justifies it to himself by reasoning that you're not in his class, so it should be okay. even though your university's policy allows teacher-student relationships if they aren't in the same field, he still tries to keep it mostly a secret—after all, he wouldn't want to risk anything on your part.
but one day, your professor's absent, and luckily (or not), dazai's the only one available to step in for the day. imagine his surprise when he realizes that the class he hesitantly agreed to sub for today was your class, and as luck would have it, you sit in the front row.
"alright, class, i don't really know what you're supposed to be doing, but—"
"there should be an outline on the desk, sir," the girl next to you pipes up, smiling bashfully at dazai. he pauses and nods at her gratefully, doing his best to not make eye contact with you as he skims over the outline. you're equally as unsure as he is, because you never expected to be in this situation: with your boyfriend as your actual professor, even if it was just for a day.
"oh, great, i have to give a lecture," dazai grumbles, holding the papers in the same hand that's also holding a cup of steaming hot coffee. he sighs, eyes professionally surveying the room before finally settling on you. "would you mind giving me a quick summary of whatever you're supposed to be learning today?" he asks, hiding his little smile behind the cup of coffee he presses to his lips.
you nod, but right before you open your mouth, the girl next to you speaks up again. "i can do it, professor," she offers, beaming at dazai as if she's the personification of joy and happiness. and it's almost comical, the way dazai barely spares her a glance before returning his attention to you.
so you give him a brief summary of what your actual professor had said your class would be covering today, and dazai nods along, eyes focused intently on the outline in his hand. when you finish speaking, he stays quiet for another second before shrugging and sitting down at the teacher's desk. "i'll just find a video on it, 'cause i don't know enough to teach the subject. and honestly, i don't want to, either."
as expected.
twenty minutes go by with some youtuber's monotone voice droning on in the background, but instead of studiously taking notes (like you should be doing), you find yourself staring at dazai instead. his eyes are fixed on his phone, and it's a mystery to everyone in the room as to what he's doing. it's only when you pick up your own phone to check the time do you see a bunch of missed messages from him:
osamu: this class is so boring
osamu: how do u sit through this every. day.
osamu: i'm already falling asleep wtf
osamu: babe answer me :(
osamu: do you hate me :( if not answer me :(
you bite your lip in a futile effort to hide the smile that's threatening to grow on your lips, which would be suspicious, considering that there's practically nothing to smile about in this dull lecture hall.
you: shut up i'm trying to focus
dazai shoots you a subtle grin from his spot up front and replies quickly enough to make you wonder if all this time, he's just been staring at your name on his phone.
osamu: ik you're not paying attention
osamu: play me in 8 ball
you: no
"you in the front," dazai calls from his desk, clearly directing his voice towards you. he raises an eyebrow coyly, and continues, "shouldn't you be taking notes?"
the girl next to you snickers, not seeming to catch the look you give her. dazai clears his throat and looks at you pointedly, obviously trying not to show his amusement.
"okay," you mutter, shooting dazai a vicious death glare. he winks back at you, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"what was that?" he asks in response, pretending not to have heard you. it's embarrassingly obvious that he's just messing with you, and you wonder why you ever agreed to date this man in the first place—of course he'd pull something like this the one day he gets to have authority over you.
"yes, professor," you say with a witheringly forced smile. dazai's smile turns uncertain as he dips his head in reply and instantly picks up his phone.
osamu: i'm sorry pls don't make me sleep on the couch
you: i won't :)
you: you'll be out on the porch tonight :)
osamu: wait no
osamu: i love u
osamu: pls don't do this to me ilysm
"hey," the girl next to you whispers, drawing your attention away from your phone and to her uncomfortably close voice. "isn't professor dazai hot?"
she's not a quiet whisperer, and something about dazai's forcibly calm expression makes you certain that he can hear every word. "i guess," you answer noncommittally. hopefully, your tone doesn't betray how close you are to clawing out your eyes.
"do you think he's single?"
"no. and even if he was, i doubt you'd be his type," you reply with a sickeningly sweet smile. dazai coughs into his arm, obviously trying to hide the laugh he had just choked out. the girl's eye twitches, and you hold your smile until she rolls her eyes and looks away.
osamu: ur so funny i'll kms
you: ur still sleeping on the porch.
osamu: babe :(
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lilybug-02 · 4 months
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Happy 2 Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline ✨
I FINALLY made drawing references for you guys, yippie!✨
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It’s wild how long I’ve been working on this comic without reference sheets. I’m never that consistent with my art style, so I figured it was a waste of time 🫥💀😔 this is my first full comic okay…
Thoughts and Feelings About the Comic Below ❤️💖💕💞
Wow. It’s been 2 years??? I thought I would be done with this comic in 2 months! I don’t know whether to feel worried or accomplished!!
(With months between each update, I understand why it’s been 2 years. I’m a slow writer and artist and well- many things have come up in my life that had to come first, like my sisters wedding! 💞 and college 😅)
I want to thank my family and friends (WHO DO NOT READ THIS COMIC- THANK GOD) 💕 AND I want to THANK YOU! The readers! 💐💐
You guys are relentless! I’m as impatient as traffic and yet you guys wait for weeks or months at a time for like 4 pages?! You guys don’t even complain!!! I truly want to thank you all for that ❤️ it helps me so much. Being busy and getting burnt out are common and it helps me feel relaxed that i'm not on a timer. Literally tho- you guys keep this comic chugging I swear. Tysm 💐
Unorganized rambling about the comic ahead :) ⭐️🔥
My feelings with this comic are actually so complicated. On one hand I hate looking at my older art because GOD IT LOOKS SO OFF I want to stab it, and then on the other hand I am so so proud of myself for even continuing it this far. Ngl the weird route has been one of my favorite parts of this comic. It took me FOREVER to figure out an ending, but damn do I still get chills >:) hehe.
I’m still miffed that I named this project “Deltarune: The Chara Timeline” I could have gone for something so much COOLER. Doesn’t help I use like 7 different titles for it either. We got Deltarune the Chara timeline, Deltarune chara timeline, THE Chara timeline, chara timeline, Ct??? Man,,, I’m crazy. I take after my family so hard. We have 3 names for each of our dogs 💀.
Comic/Animation Tip i have learned. It is VERY GOOD to make the character relatively simple in design. Shape language is also super important, ((but I never really got around to doing that before I was half way through the comic, woops.)) These things can make ur process go by so much faster. This whole comic has been a HUGE learning curve. LIKE OH MY GOD. I had to learn how to draw backgrounds, write dialogue, plan a story, learn how to draw fast and draw noses (which god damn I really still can’t). And I had to learn how the heck to squeeze art into a tiny page and make it not look grainy. It's intense!
Anyways.... this has been such an awesome opportunity! Thanks Toby Fox!
I totally ran out of “art time” for my iPad and wanted to finish this today. So it’s a bit rushed. I’ll add weapons and possibly the other characters later :)
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Oh shi- I forgot to add this grainy image of the next few pages lmao
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Hi @neil-gaiman it's unlikely you will see and read this, but I wanted to try anyway. Bear with me, this might be a bit long but it's extremely important for me.
In 2021, Andrea, one of my best friends passed away. Some time before she did, she bought me this beautiful hard cover edition of Death's comics you wrote.
I'm not much into comics, I admit,but she bought it for me because she loved them and thought I would as well
I slowly started to read them, and got a bit lost as I'd never read Sandman before either. But what I read, I enjoyed. I liked how different Death was described in it.
After she passed away I couldn't make myself continue reading it for a long time. And then, last year, the Sandman tv series was launched
So I decided to watch it, maybe learn more about the universe and go back to finish the comics after.
But when I saw Death... All I could think about was Andrea. Death's character was beautiful. The way you envisioned death and translated into your work really moved me. And it helped me a great deal with dealing with my friend's passing. And I want to thank you for that.
Last year on Brazil's comic con (CCXP) I got the chance to briefly see the amazing Kirby Howell-Baptiste who kindly signed my book for me from the stage.That meant a great deal to me.I hope to, one day,also get a chance to meet you and have this same book signed by you. Thank you
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Imagine chasing after Buggy when he attempts to flee…
“I’d love to make things right but it’s time to exit stage left.” The clown called out as he bolted almost immediately.
Your eyes widened and glanced at your friends.
“Fucking clowns.” Zoro grumbled not at all surprised by the betrayal.
Sanji caught your look and offered a small smile. “Can’t teach an old clown new tricks, right?”
Suddenly a new swarm of Alrong Pirates entered the fray and the boys readied their stance to defeat the enemy.
You frowned. No, he promised and you’d be damned if you let that Flashy Fool get away. Turning on your heel, you rushed after the blue hair and striped bandana currently trying to comically dodge as many attackers as he could.
Cutting down the few pirates in your way, you eventually called out for Buggy to stop which, to your surprise, he did. Despite bouncing on either foot impatiently.
“Listen, I’d love to stay and chat but this is a shitshow I’d rather not be part of.”
Crossing the empty ground, you stopped a few paces away from the clown. “You promised that you’d help us when we got your body back.”
“I’m a pirate? Pirates lie.”
You stepped forward and narrowed the space. “No, you promised me.”
Buggy’s expression fell as he pondered how to respond. Unfortunately, the small silent moment with the pirate captain proved to be more distracting when one of Arlong’s fishmen caught you by surprised and slashed at your arm with his spear made of sharpened scales.
Crying out angrily you engaged in combat, forgetting about Buggy for a minute. The pirate was strong so he was certainly more than a match.
But the Arlong Pirates didn’t play fair as the fish pirate quickly grabbed your wounded arm and dug his sharp finger into the injury. Blinded by the pain in your arm, you felt your feet being kicked from underneath until you fell back and hit the ground.
Raising your blade to deflect the pirate’s own, you strained and struggled to keep him at bay. Suddenly the pressure was lifted and you saw a blur of red, white and blue slamming into your attacker.
You rolled over and caught your breath for a few minutes. With a small groan, you sat up on your knees and raised your head to see the outline of Buggy using one of his Chop-Chop finishing moves, kicking the pirate to the far side of the East Blue.
You were watching the pirate disappear into the sky when you quickly realised that there was someone kneeling in front of you.
Now focusing your attention on the clown, you watched him tear off a piece of striped fabric and wrap it around your arm. Honestly, you were unsure if you should thank him, say something clever, or simply note that in the moment, he wasn’t throwing off a menacing energy.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” Buggy said quietly, his eyes catching yours.
Did they normally twinkle under the light? Was he… leaning in?
Before anything else could have transpired his eyes darted behind you to where Zoro and Sanji came stumbling into view. With no desire to be in their crosshairs, the clown took his chance and bolted out of sight again.
~ More imagines here ~
A/n: It’s been such a while since I’ve absolutely adored a gorgeous flashy villain. 🤡
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neil-gaiman · 9 months
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Hi Mr. Gaiman,
As an accomplished author with several books under his belt, how do you know that a story is a dud for lack of a better word? I have a million ideas bouncing around inside my head at all times, and while I consider them good ideas worth pursuing, how am I sure they will make a good story?
I ask this because I have been dwelling on something one of my professors said last semester. He held a seminar on poetry and got to the topic of fiction writing, where he stated that he had just recently finished a story he had rewritten several times over the course of multiple years. Now I myself write as a hobby with a faint imagining that someone might see it in the future, and I have written a dud or two, where the plot was poorly formed and the ideas behind it just had a flaw somewhere in the base concept. Perhaps this is my youth and amateurity speaking, but I was under the impression that given enough time and care, any story could recover from that stage so long as it had not been completed yet. Ideas would need to be reworked, concepts retooled, characters redrawn, but the very basic idea could still survive in a different format.
My professor disagreed, stating that he has destroyed 400-500 page novels that he has written before upon realizing said fatal flaw. He stated that the story was in a state that it could not recover from, and that many authors encounter ideas that seem good at the time, but stink later on to such a degree that the basic premise must be thrown out. This seems like a tremendous loss of work to me. As writing is an art form, it feels somewhat similar to destroying practice sketches and 'meh' oil paintings that showcase the artist's progress. An idea that stinks today might be able to work from a different angle later on in my opinion.
I suppose after rambling my question is now this: are some ideas and concepts just not worth pursuing? Are some story concepts flawed from the get-go and impossible to save, and is there a way to tell that before writing the whole thing? Is it even possible to waste that time as you're getting in practice for the next tale?This isn't something I ever really thought about before being told in sure tones that this is how things work by someone with a degree is this, so I figured I'd ask the professional author for a second opinion. Apologies for the length of the message, especially if this is one you've received before.
I have things that have stalled and a few stories that, when they were done, went to the box in the attic rather than to anyone who could publish them (there's a whole novel there I wrote when I was 21). But mostly because I was writing serial comics, failure was not an option, and if something did fail it had done it in public for everyone to see. And I learned that some things I thought were failures had actually worked really well.
Some people are afraid of failure. Some people are afraid of success, which can also be a good reason for junking books and never showing them to anyone. As long as you pronounce them irretrievably flawed and show them to nobody, you will never be judged for them or have to deal with either success or failure.
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thehighladywrites · 4 months
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THE AIRHEAD CHRONICLES
…AND THE MEETING
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-> Pairing: Cassian x bimbo/ditzy reader
-> Summary: Cassian remembers the first time he met you. He truly forgets what a mess you are sometimes, but you’re still his mess.
-> Author’s note: This is going to become a series where I add new headcanons and little drabbles. I love the idea of a bimbo/ditzy reader who’s a real sweetheart but isn’t really the brightest. No worries! As long as Cassian is here, you won’t have to worry about your safety (not that you were before) among other things. Also I’m either gonna make something where Azriel joins them once or I’m gonna make his own series.
part two part three
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- Cassian honestly wondered how you were still alive sometimes. You’d do things that made his heart stop and you acted as if it was nothing at all.
- For instance, he’ll never forget the day that he met you.
- Cassian found you walking around in the middle of the night, all by yourself. He looked at you as if you were crazy, clad in a little black dress that was tight around your ass and almost had your tits spilling out. You walked right past him, not even noticing him staring at you.
- You were skipping around in the dangerous parts of velaris seemingly unknown about the dangers lurking around.
- This time of day, drunkards, rapists and robbers were everywhere though that thought simply wasn’t in your head
- No, you were looking up at the stars, admiring the different shades of violet, completely oblivious of the fact that you had caught the eyes of a group of men.
- They quickly made their way over to you when you stopped to pick up a flower in a nearby bush, you couldn’t help yourself, they looked so pretty!! How could you walk past them?
- “ Hey there baby, what is someone as pretty as you doing out here all alone?”
- What a nice man! You give them a sweet smile and explain what you’re doing.
- “ Oh hello! i’m just going for a walk. The sky is so beautiful tonight. I think starfall is near, don’t you?”
- You miss the predatory glint in their eyes, happy to be making some friends, something that happened quite often.
- “ Yeah, sure. How about you come with us and have a drink. We could get you something really delicious.”
- “ Really? I’m quite thirsty, that would be perfect! thank you guys!!” Wow, these guys were nice. One of them even had a hand on your lower back to guide you.
- But, wait- isn’t the bar that way? Maybe there’s another bar behind this alley. It was very dark but you were sure it was around here somewhere.
- Cassian had been following you and decided to intervene. Perhaps you already had a few drinks because no sane woman would willingly walk with these males into a dark pathway.
- “ What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a booming voice echoed through the alleyway.
- “ Mind your own business, Illyrian. We’re just taking out this lady out for some drinks, isn’t that right?” The males all nod and grunt in agreement. But you’re not paying attention to them. You’re looking at the towering man infront of you.
- Your glossed lips part in surprise, eyes growing comically large. You had never seen such a handsome guy before, totally your type!!!
- This guy was like a powerhouse—muscular, with huge battle-scarred wings. Wasn’t there a saying about Illyrian wings? And oh his eyes? Intense and a bit playful. Dressed in Illyrian leathers, he was the epitome of strength and confidence. He radiated authority and dominance.
- “ I think you better get out of here. Now.” He stepped forward as the others subconsciously took a step back. Only the guy that was talking to you remained in his position.
- “Yeah? Or what? You filthy low-born.”
- You were shocked at how quick this male had changed. He wasn’t the sweet guy that wanted drinks. Maybe-
- Before you could finish your thought, the tall Illyrian had punched him clean across his face, making you gasp. Your heels clicked against the cobblestones as you took a step back.
- The guy started got up but he didn’t fight back, he and his friends just ran away, leaving you behind. How rude! You really wanted your drink.
- “ Are you okay? You know, you really shouldn’t be walking around this late, especially alone.”
- How dare he lecture you after scaring away your friends like that?!! You scowled at him, your perfectly glossed lips pouting at the intruder.
- “ I was doing perfectly fine, in fact they were about to buy me refreshments before you so rudely chased them away.”
- He looked at you as if you had told him pigs could fly. With furrowed eyebrows, disbelief showed in his eyes. His frame was towering over you as he took a step closer to you.
- “Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, you do know why they took you here to this empty alley.”
- This male was crazy. You tilted your head, your jewelry jingling as you looked at him with confusion.
- “They were taking me out for drinks and we were looking for a bar. What could you possibly mean?”
- He stared at you for a while, deciding if he should tell you. Maybe you really didn’t know. While he wanted to warn you about following strangers into dark, creepy alleys, he also didn’t want to be the one to burst your bubble. He simply couldn’t shatter your innocent view and it made him surprisingly protective. But why was that? He didn’t even know your name, let alone enough about you to be feeling like this. Yet something in him told him to not let you go.
- “ How about I just take you home, you seem to have had an eventful night.”
- You pondered over it but accepted it nonetheless. Some company would be nice.
- The way back to your apartment was comfortably quiet. As you reached the door, you stopped and turned around. You offered your hand out for him to shake.
- “ That was a really quick walk. Oh, also thanks for walking me home. I’m Y/n by the way.”
- “ No worries, I’m Cassian.”
- He shook your hand and suddenly, everything brightened up. His entire world shifted as that golden thread snapped in place. There was a moment of clear truth, a chance for genuine happiness and authenticity to shine through.
- “ Oh, what a cute name. You should definitely have a nickname. Hmm, let’s see… I really like the sound of Cassie. I think it’s super adorable!” You looked up at him again, doe-eyed and blushy.
- He just stared at you wide-eyed, not able to form a single coherent sentence. Usually people loved talking you but this guy just kept quiet. You fidgeted uncomfortably because you really wanted his attention and if he wasn’t gonna give you some, you’d tease him a little for it.
- “ Um, alright, good night then Cassie. I hope to see you around since you now owe me a drink. Also you’re like really hot.” You pressed a quick kiss on his cheek and turned to open the door.
- Before he could respond you had already closed your door, leaving him behind with a flood of emotions, a beating heart and million questions.
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princess-tulip-writes · 11 months
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azriel’s habits while doing it
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a/n: this was requested to me so long ago, and I feel horrible for taking so long but alas, here it finally is. I plan on making this a series with the bat boys and maybe the vanserra bros too.
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I think azriel is a switch; dom leaning.
he’s mainly a soft dom but alternates to a hard dom sometimes too. he can be submissive, but only if you ask or he needs to be taken extra care of.
azriel tends to baby you during sex; calling you pretty nick names, caressing your skin, kissing you all over, making sure you’re feeling just as good as he is.
speaking of nicknames, he has the best ones for you that make your pussy clench just from him calling you them.
princess, angel, bunny, and sweet girl are the most common, but they never really stop. he always finds new titles to make you flustered and wet.
pussy eating is a daily routine for him. never once has he sinked his cock in you without getting a taste first, making you cum at least once beforehand.
he just loves the fucking taste of you so much, the days that he doesn’t fit eating you out in his busy schedule are always bad ones. it’s comical to you, but if you giggle about it, you’re in trouble.
punishments are never mild with azriel. spanking sessions are long and harsh, your ass is definitely a shade of purple and blood red once he’s finished.
he’ll carve his initials in you if you need reminding of who’s pet you are too. but that’s only if you’d gone too far to make him jealous.
overestim and edging are big ones for him when you’ve done something minor.
he’s the type to eat you out, but stop as soon as your right on the edge then go about his day. he won’t fuck you before bed that night either to teach you a lesson.
with overstimulation, he’d keep lapping at your clit until your sobbing for him to stop, then fuck you for hours until you’re both soaked in squirt.
making you a squirting mess is his favorite thing ever btw.
this male has SUCH a dirty fcking mouth. like seriously, you can’t get him to shut up.
“what a pretty girl.”
“fucking love this cock don’t you?”
“tell me who’s fucking you this good, princess.”
“gods, I love the way you say my name, angel. keep screaming it for me.”
sigh, I need him.
his hands love wander all over your soft curves, squishing your chub adoringly as he stares into your teary, fog filled eyes. he always whispers to you about how you feel like paradise in his hands.
cum! rings!
he loves looking at the way his cock disappears inside of your lush cunt, then comes back with a white, creamy ring at the base from how much you’ve came.
his kisses are hot, and filled with such passion that it could make the cruelest lords fold under him, and it makes your knees buckle and walls clench every time his lips find yours. his tongue is everywhere in your mouth exploring. the smell and taste of him is intoxicating and you savor every bit as his fucks you.
omg okay, wingplay.
it’s the absolute death of azriel, let me tell you
usually, when you want to expel the prettiest whines and moans from him, you would drag your fingertips along the curves and bones of those glorious wings.
and boy, no matter what mood he is in; weather he’s pissed at you and pounding you so fucking hard, or feeling so loving to you— the second your graze the sensitive membrane, he’s a goner.
“fu-fuck, beautiful.” he’d whine before sinking his lips to yours and moaning against them as you keep tickling him.
also, wingplay definitely helps you when you’re in a lot of trouble— if your hands are free that is.
which gives me an idea: kissing his wings.
you usually only do this when you’re making love or you’re the one in control. either way, it makes him crumble instantly.
a few opened mouth kisses and some licks to the underside can get him desperate and ready to cum so fast. he actually starts to buck his hips in the air because he just wants to finish so bad.
when he cums, which is in a fairly decent amount of time; not too quick, but not too slow. you usually cum once or twice on his cock before he finishes inside.
he cums ropes too.
the fucking sounds this male makes—
im talking whimpers, beautifully dark whimpers and moans as he fills you up. his wings flutter softly and shake, his thighs and abs clench and he usually seeks out your shoulder or bottom lip to bite.
aftercare is always a top priority !!!
sometimes he runs you a bath immediately, others he just stays with you and holds you close while telling you how good you’ve been for him, how much he loves you, how pretty you are as he peppers soft kisses all over your face.
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tojipie · 11 months
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Please serve us your best dilf toji headcanons I am begging
warnings: nsfw, exhibitionism, anal, alc n weed
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sfw -
will use little placeholder names for you but gets all flustered when you do it back. he’ll call you things like pretty girl, little girl, sweet girl, etc. but as soon as you start firing back he gets embarrassed
works construction so he exclusively likes to wear a simple black tee and baggy jeans. a lot of the pieces he owns have singe marks and paint stains because he can never remember to put his work clothes in the wash in time :( he likes the look of it though.
doesn’t care that he’s older, like at all. he has an almost sickening amount of confidence in himself and quite honestly loves having a pretty little sweetheart on his arm.
loves cheap beer. always has a couple 6 packs stacked in the garage, and will usually pull you into his lap when you come to bring him one. it happens so often that the two of you now have this inside joke where you bringing him a beer means you’re initiating sex.
little bit of a temper in public but is working on it. is no stranger to road rage or picking fights with other men in public places. he got the two of you banned from ihop after he called one of the managers a cunt 🫡
bad cook! just terrible. it’s literally comical how incapable he is of making the simplest meals. he lived almost exclusively off of takeout before he met you and is still adjusting to eating at home more.
likes to eat out of the pot with u :,) thinks it’s romantic and will use his spoon to feed u bites from time to time.
is the type of smoker to say “i’ll quit when i want to” (he’s not going to quit). he tried shifting over to weed to get the buzz he needs but it fucks with his head before work so he just went back to his cigarettes. prefers marlboro reds! will blow the smoke in your face just to make you mad.
let’s you cut his hair! he thinks you do a better job than a barber ever would. when he needs a trim he’ll touch-up his undercut with an electric razor and have you shorten his fringe for him. you think he looks so cute sitting at the kitchen table with a towel wrapped around his shoulders.
will do different things while he rubs your back just to see your little reactions. he’ll run his nails down your spine, trace shapes into your skin, and give you little pats just to see you melt off to sleep.
nsfw -
lives for a good blowjob, no matter the place. will ask to get sucked off in the living room, in the drivers seat, on his breaks when you visit him at work. literally no shame when it comes to having his dick in your mouth.
cums fast and cums a lot. pretty fast recovery time and can definitely go multiple rounds. his favorite place to finish is on your face and lower stomach 🫶
wants to do anal but doesn’t really know how to go about bringing it up. the idea first piqued his interest after a friend told him about him and his wife trying it. he’s definitely curious about how tight you’d be around him, and would love to see your little gape :( he’s a sick man
definitely an ass man! lots to do with it, it’s natural that it’d be a favorite of his. loves how easy marks take on the skin there and is likely to leave a couple hickeys while ur doing it.
favorite position is doggy. boring ik :( but it’s a classic to him! he feels most comfortable gripping onto the fat just above your hips and pulling you back into his cock. he’ll either have you face down with a hand to the back of your neck, or use your shoulder as leverage to keep you upright while he pounds into you.
might have a genuine exhibition kink. you cannot visit the airport without going at least a round in the single stall bathroom. if the two of you can find a room with a lock, he’s gonna ask to fuck in it. that’s just how it is and there’s no changing him. had his way with you once in the gym showers, you still don’t know how he successfully snuck you in and out of there.
big on both degradation and praise, he knows how to balance them out well, following every “fucking slut” up with a equally devastating “but you take cock like a champ no?
big dick 🫡 need i elaborate. he likes to press down on your tummy while he fucks you to try and see where his tip is, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious.
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thewebcomicsreview · 25 days
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I'm hardly the first person to notice this, but good god webcomics are the least time-efficient possible way of telling a story, aren't they?
I've been trying to figure out a better method of telling a story so that I could finish it before I die of old age (or, perhaps more relevantly, before everyone loses interest). It seems like no one really wants to read prose on the internet, but also people don't really like a comic that takes a year to go anywhere.
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The main bottleneck is dialogue. You can only get 2-3 lines in a standard comic panel, so even a short conversation of character texture can take several pages. It makes me wonder if the Single Panel With Text Beneath It style (like ForEach) isn't just the Objectively Correct™ way to tell a comic on the internet. It's very efficient on the art, you can include narration if that's your jam, and it's very easy to make it work on mobile. (Also the art being separate is a boon if you want to make marketing materials). But everyone will correctly call you a Homestuck rip off.
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Though the other thing Homestuck did was make these sprites of the characters that could be used to crank out a bunch of panels for scenes where nothing visually interesting was happening. You don't really see that copied as much
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Not openly, anyway. There's a stigma. I've thought about rebooting Legend of the Hare as a visual novel, where that kind of thing is arbitrarily more accepted, but it does start raising the question of why you're bothering with the visuals at all. I don't think the kind of person who makes webcomics is usually looking for an excuse to get out of drawing, even if it lets them increase their page output dramatically. Making sprites that don't look like absolute ass is also really hard. Homestuck sprites have a really specific janky charm to them that I've never really seen any other comic pull off.
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And, yeah, you could always just use a simpler art style, like Order of the Stick does, but it's super hard to get anyone to read a webcomic with great art, let alone simple art designed to maintain a high page output. And, again, why are you making a comic if you don't want to draw, unless you just naturally happen to draw that way and be really fucking good at it like Rich Burlew is?
It seems like the only really good way to tell a story in a reasonable amount of time as a webcomic artist is to make enough money off it that you can work full time, and, um, that's not really feasible either.
I don't have an answer I like. I guess just kill yourself in the content mines working webcomics as a second job that doesn't pay you anything.
I don't have a conclusion, capitalism is a nightmare.
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seelestia · 10 months
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— 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?
SUMMARY. in which you decide to do their eye makeup for them and the many antics that come with it.
CHARACTERS. zhongli, alhaitham, xiao, wanderer, gorou, itto.
GENRE. fluff, slight crack, established relationship.
CW. close proximity, one use of pet name, zhongli sorta acts like a cat, alhaitham is a lil insufferable but you love him, wanderer is also an inch away from choking you (affectionately).
THOUGHTS. question: is their eye makeup waterproof or do they apply it every morning?? fascinating. p/s: happy birthday to @zhongrin! lots of love to one of the best people i've ever met on this site <3
✰ masterlist.
© written by @seelestia. do not copy, translate, repost to other sites nor claim as yours!
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— ZHONGLI.
❝Apologies, dear. Is this distance acceptable?❞
ZHONGLI smells of rich cologne and the vapor of tea brews wafting through the air when you step into a teahouse. You know this, of course, you've buried yourself in his embrace countless times before — but to have your face so close to his like this, you've never felt an urge to look away quite this strong before.
You stay composed, however, Zhongli can't always be the only one with the cool composure in this household, after all. "Mhm, perfect," you nod with a quiet hum as he closes his eyes, settling his chin in your palm so snugly that you laugh.
"You're like a cat," you remark, trying to suppress the littlest impulse to bump your forehead onto his in an affectionate way. "Is that so?" Gentle eyes that resemble amber gemstones flutter open to meet yours.
(Almost, were you accidentally about to poke his eye out of sheer panic from his beauty. Almost.)
"I'm glad to know that comparing me to felines seems to bring you amusement," Zhongli brushes his hand against your hair, "But let us focus on the task at hand, my love."
"Lest we miss our reservation at Liuli Pavilion. It is most polite to be punctual," he reminds you. How mean of him; to say such things and expect you to fully register it when he is softly rubbing your cheek like this as if lulling you to sleep.
Seriously, the amount of self-control you have to muster spontaneously in order to fight off the need to lean further into his hand is indescribable. Who's supposed to be the feline again? Anyway. "Okay, okay, I won't dawdle anymore," you adjust his chin in your hold as your other works to bring up the eyeliner to his eye.
"My husband has to look his best, after all," you slip in a little joke."Of course, darling," but Zhongli's answer doesn't sound like he's kidding at all.
(How can he say that with such a straight face? This man, seriously.)
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— ALHAITHAM.
❝You're actually concentrating, I'm impressed.❞
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" you scrunch your face, frowning at how his words are jabbing at your pride. Has he not realized the power you have in your hands right now? You could actually poke his eyes with the eyeliner you're holding if you want to — not like you would, but Alhaitham is making it a smidgen harder to resist.
"I can focus, alright?" Huffing, you put aside your trivial grudges to grab his chin softly with your other hand. Alhaitham relents with an entertained smile, "All those times you fall asleep every time I read to you says otherwise."
"Well, that's— that's different," you stammer. In your defense, most of the books he chose to read to you are either theoretical physics or philosophies; it's a wonder how you're lulled to sleep even though it isn't a storybook. Of course, Alhaitham's library is a range of wide genres but you're starting to think he picks those books solely for you.
You're pulled out of your train of thoughts when you put in some distance to view your finished artwork. With Alhaitham's face as the canvas, somewhat comically.
(Well, aren't his eyes pretty? They look even sharper when accented with the eyeliner... whether that be for better or for worse. You shake your head internally at any poor person who happens to test his patience later today.)
"Wow," you mumble dazedly, "Red eyeliner really suits you." He raises an eyebrow at the genuineness in your quiet voice but only lifts his face away from your hand in response. Alhaitham regards your efforts in the mirror beside the two of you with a hum, "Maybe we should make this a routine, then."
There is a little something oddly hidden behind his sentence. Accusingly, you voice your suspicion by squinting your eyes at the Scribe, "...You just don't wanna do it yourself, do you?" And he enables it without a doubt, "Feel free to speculate."
(Ugh, this man.)
"But regardless..." he crosses his arms against his chest with a nod, "It doesn't look so bad."
(Would it have killed him from the inside out to say a compliment with a positive connotation? Okay, whatever, you love him.)
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— XIAO.
❝....❞
Silent, quiet, and frozen in place like a statue.
The mere presence of those traits are more than enough reasons to have you worrying whether or not XIAO is still breathing. He is, thankfully, you can confirm that from the close proximity between the two of you and you mentally let out a sigh of relief.
(Thank the Archons you didn't lean in any further lest you would've heard how terribly his poor heart is faring and he doesn't want that.)
There is one more problem, however.
"You don't have to close your eyes that hard, you know..." you try to start, but Xiao still doesn't falter one bit; "It is of utmost necessity," he insists for the nth time since you've lost count.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
(Talk about stubborn.)
Your question is coming from a place of genuine concern because the frown on his forehead looks like it's going to engrave itself there forever from how intensely he is closing his eyes... Doesn't that hurt? You resist the urge to soothe away that frown with your thumb.
It's a good thing that it's only the two of you here right now, though. A stranger would be scared to death if they were to be gazed at with such an intense look and from the Conqueror of Demons at that. Oh, whatever will happen to your efforts of trying to prove to the children at Liyue Harbor that Xiao is actually a softie? Gee.
(But still, you can't help but smile.)
"Utmost necessity, huh?" you echo back his words with a hum. Your intentions bear no mockery but it seems the adeptus still manages to find some sort of dissatisfaction in your reaction. "Do not smile at me like that," Xiao mutters within a choked exhale that only serves to make him come off less stern than he would've liked.
His eyes are still, very much, closed as far as you can see.
The irony of it all tickles a chuckle out of you, mirth glazed over your eyes. "Is this an Adepti art I'm not aware of or are you secretly looking at me even with your eyes closed?" you ask cheekily. Xiao's cheeks are but a mere inch away from bursting into flames and he can only use words as his defense.
"...There is no need for you to know," he huffs.
Well, he isn't denying it, that's for sure.
(The answer is intuition.)
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— WANDERER.
❝...Are you done yet? Any more second of this torture and I might just perish from boredom.❞
You're doing his makeup for him and this is the kind of treatment you get? You would've faked a gasp if you weren't so busy holding in a laugh over how his body is betraying his speech. That flustered look on WANDERER's face isn't helping his case at all.
"Uh-huh," your drawled out reply is enough of an indication to show that you're not really taking his words (threats?) seriously. Wanderer's bark can be as harsh as his bite, but you've never minded all the barks he sends your way — so much so that you barely even spare him any eye contact in favor of perfecting the red shade you're trying to blend around his eyelids.
(Perfection requires concentration, they say.)
But that doesn't mean you can't see anything else, though. You're uncertain if the Wanderer realizes this or somehow forgets because you can, in fact, see from your peripheral vision — and from said peripheral angle, he seems to be looking at something of yours rather intensely.
"You're staring at my lips," you point out.
"Shut it," he grumbles out his defense as fast as lightning.
(Caught him red-handed.)
"Sorry," you chuckle teasingly, "If you want a kiss, you're gonna have to wait for a bit." The way he looks so undeniably irritated by your statement makes you have no other option but to burst into a mini chuckling fit.
"Ugh, it's not like you can't lean in closer to—" His mouth snaps to a stop once it dawns on him; that your words are an attempt at reading his mind and he is technically confirming it to your face.
"Actually, nevermind, whatever. Just get this over and done with," he averts his eyes quickly with a scowl that feels as harmless as a naby deer (to you, anyway). "Giving up already?" you raise an eyebrow jokingly. With how Wanderer closes his eyes with a sigh, you assume he is only mere seconds away from giving your forehead a good flick.
"Don't think you're completely off the hook," he sternly interjects with a huff, "You still owe me some kind of compensation for taking your sweet time with this."
"And will that compensation be in the form of a kiss, per chance?" you hum amusedly.
"...It better be," he closes his eyes as if to signify the end of his willingness to comment any further.
Wanderer has never been one to shy away from the truth, but that is only because its taste always turns out bitter. Yet, in this case, when the truth entails something as embarrassingly sweet as desiring a kiss from you, then it becomes a conundrum for him.
After all, he is not fond of sweet things but he is fond of you. Maybe, this close proximity is getting to his head a little too much for his liking — darn it, he knew this was a bad idea the moment you showed him those puppy eyes.
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— GOROU.
❝This is... embarrassing...❞
GOROU looks like he is merely a hair's breadth away from digging a hole into the ground and burrowing in it forever. But thankfully, the only thing keeping him on the surface happens to be you, the person holding him still by the cheek.
"There is nothing to be embarrassed about," you squish his cheek gently and Gorou lets out a noise akin to a little whine. "What if one of the soldiers sees us?" he protests, yet makes no actual initiative to remove himself from your grasp.
"Let them," you tap the eyeliner pen against his forehead two times and he winces dramatically as if you just struck him over the head. "Ouch!" Gorou rubs the sore spot instinctively and you can feel a faint trickle of guilt (even though you only hit him with the amount of strength someone would need to blow a dandelion), yet that is still not enough to the little lecture you're about to give him.
"Being the General of the Resistance doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. It's okay to rely on someone to do something for you once in a while, you know."
"Even something as small as letting them do your eye makeup for you," you huff with a proud smile as an emphasis, carefully tracing a line on the outer part above his eyes.
"...Mmpf," the muffled noise that comes out of his mouth has you raising an eyebrow. Although unsure if it's because of that pout on his lips or his puffed cheeks, you still let out a little laugh at the thought of said possibilities anyway.
"Pfft, what's that sound?" you tease, "Does that mean you agree with me or not?"
"[Y/N]," Gorou calls your name in a stern tone or at least, tries to.
(He has never been good at scolding people but he swears if you keep on teasing him, he'll actually explode. ...And by that, he means melting into a puddle of jelly on the ground.)
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— ITTO.
❝You gotta make em' look super dope, alright? Make sure you put more highlights on this one! And oh, this one right here too!❞
No one really knows whether the tattoos on ITTO's skin are actually real or not. Knowing he is someone of Oni blood doesn't narrow down the answer any further but if you were to ask him about them yourself, Itto prefers to call them "100% natural, baby!".
Not to mention, he is always looking for ways to make them stand out or look cooler — which led to this grand idea of asking you to do his makeup for him because apparently, your touch is magical since you're his favorite person on this emtire planet (his words, not yours).
...He can come up with the most random things to say sometimes. But hey, seeing a grown Oni beg on his knees sure was something and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.
"Sooooo," Itto starts with an attempt to clear his throat professionally, "How does it feel like having the honor to prepare me for my next battle?" he accentuates his sentence with a series of haughty laughter that cause his shoulders to shake vigorously.
"Don't move," you scrunch your face with a frown, pinching him indignantly for nearly breaking your focus. "Yikes! Sorry, sorry, I'll stay still!" the Oni yelps, a noise so embarrassing he almost cups his mouth like second nature.
But he doesn't do that, in fear of being pinched by your lovely fingers and proceeds to look at you with eyes befitting that of a kicked puppy's. "...You'll come and cheer for me, right?" Itto asks pleadingly and you smile.
"Of course," you say and he has to resist the urge to do a full-on fist bump into the air. But you still have some more left to say as you continue, "Just don't cry if you lose, alright? You'll ruin the makeup and besides...." There is a devious grin resting on your face now, "You don't want the kids to think your face makeup look like tear marks, don't you?"
Yup, there comes that offended gasp you've been waiting for.
"What— heck no!" Itto places a hand on his chest dramatically, "Tear marks?! Preposterous! The Arataki Itto doesn't shed tears! Of course not!" You can only hide your giggles behind your palm while Itto struggles to defend his wounded pride.
"...Forrealthough, doesitactuallylookliketearmarks—"
Now, you've got him second-guessing himself (but at least, he's cute?).
─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─
© SEELESTIA, may 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.
✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum @herdrops @lleoll @xiaosonlybeloved @chiisananingen @irethepotato @ainescribe @blooodyvampy @starlightaura @jihyuniepark @duhsies @maybemiko @lordbugs @sakkakuu-squared — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]
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nyoomiin · 19 days
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'til the end of the line.
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“do you believe in fate?”
in which one late night conversation spirals into many, many more.
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pairing. danheng x gn!reader
tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, healer!reader
notes. yes this is a repost <333 i adore this fic so much
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Screeching metal, the glint of a blade, a sickening stab and a pierce through his heart. Panic stricken, he whirled around, barely able to retaliate before he was pulled down under.
Then, there was nothing.
Dan Heng’s eyes flicker open, calm despite the pounding in his heart. He was never one to dream, and more of the kind who never woke up fully rested. Yet, they were always similar in nature when he did, phantom pains ghosting over his chest in their wake. There was no point in trying to get back to bed now — his body had already had its fill, it seemed.
He heads to the kitchen, suddenly parched.
Clattering noise resounds from his destination, and he tenses, the residual fight or flight instincts kicking in immediately. Who could possibly…?
It was only you.
You were new. He didn’t know much about you, actually. The day before was your first day as a passenger of the Astral Express, and he had watched from the shadows as you flit about, chattering and bubbling and sunny. He left for the archives before March dragged him out and introduced him to you.
You were… baking, humming a cheerful little tune as you did.
“What are you doing?” he asks anyway.
You startle, neck snapping around to see him. Batter spills from the whisk in your hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, looking him up and down, but he supposes he must seem a mess, having crawled out of bed post-nightmare.
“Oh,” you say finally, “I’m making cookies.”
“... At this hour?”
You snort, using the whisk to gesture between him and you. “Pot, kettle. What are you doing awake at this hour?”
“I wanted water,” he replies. “That’s nothing like baking.”
Shrugging, you turn back to the counter. It’s a right mess, with crockery and ingredients scattered and strewn across. Still, you move with practised ease. You must do this a lot, he notes. His observations are confirmed when you speak again. “I like baking when I can’t sleep. You?”
“I work.”
You chuckle, and it’s a warm thing. “To each their own, I guess. Anyway, you getting that water or what?”
Ah. Right. He moves from the doorway and toward the tap when you whirl around, eyes alight. He doesn’t have the time to be startled before your hands are firm against his shoulder, guiding him toward the seat at the aisle.
“No,” you seem to decide, “I’ll make us both hot chocolate.”
Amusement bubbles in his gut. You were endearing, in a way. He can’t seem to get angry at the flour stains on his sleeve, too. You work fast, and in no time there’s a steaming mug of goodness being offered to him. It’s warm, he thinks, but your expectant eyes might be warmer.
Your head jerks toward the cup, so he drinks. It’s good. Better than good, actually. He can feel the heat seeping down his throat and through his chest, pooling near his naval. When was the last time he had a drink this comforting?
“Good, isn’t it?” you ask, taking the seat across him. You sigh contentedly as you sip on your own mug, drink cradled in your hands. “My best friend used to make it for me.”
Then you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes comically wide. He frowns faintly, curious and wary. “I still don’t know your name! And you don’t know mine either! Damn, you must think I’m weird.”
Compared to March, or even Stelle, he feels you’re pretty tame. He doesn’t say that, though. “My name is Dan Heng. I am the guard of the Astral Express and its archiver.”
You introduce yourself in turn, grinning sheepishly. “So you’re the one I hadn’t met.”
He nods slowly. “I suppose I am.”
You stand then, stretching as you do. Your mug clinks as you set it down in the sink. “I’ll finish my baking now. You can leave your mug there after you’re done. I’ll clean up.”
Glancing down, he realises his hot chocolate has long gone. He stands too.
(That morning, he rises to a box of fresh cookies by his door. Chocolate chips. He decides those are his favourite sort now.)
The first time he officially meets you is two days later. Somehow, your schedules hadn’t aligned until March was physically pounding on his door.
“DAN HENG!” March shrieks, excitement coating her tone. “Muffins! Come on! Have some with us — they’re great!”
“I’m coming,” he assures her, “Would it kill you to relax?”
She blows him a raspberry, grabbing his wrist and making a break for the parlour carriage. And these muffins really do smell great, it’s buttery scent wafting through the express even from where they are. He has a sneaking suspicion on the identity of their maker.
The first thing he sees stepping inside the parlour is Stelle unceremoniously stuffing her face. “Wha’?” she asks, mouth filled to the brim. “‘ey’re very goo’.”
A laugh draws his attention from Stelle to you. A bashful smile sits on your face, whilst you hold out a tray of blueberry muffins. “I’m glad you like them, but don’t eat too fast — what if you choke?”
Stelle waves your concern away and your gaze finds him, your smile widening. You’re wearing an apron with the words Kiss the Cook printed on, hair tied in a messy bun. Honestly, it’s adorable.
“You want one?” you ask, holding the tray out to him.
March bounds forward before he can reply, swinging an arm around his shoulders with a force that makes him stumble forward. “This is Dan Heng!” she chirps. “He looks mean but he’s really not. He’s all sweet and mushy inside, but don’t tell him I said that.”
“I’m literally right beside you.”
You snort, and he takes a muffin from your tray, thanking you softly. Grinning, you look him up and down like you did that night, eyes are tinged with amusement. “Bet you fight well too.”
March nods eagerly. “One of the best I’ve ever seen! It’s like — Hiya! Kapow! And everyone’s down.”
“Huh. What I’d give to fight like that,” you muse, more to yourself.
“Nah. You keep making these and we’ll keep you here for life,” Stelle pipes up, having inhaled the last of the muffins.
Laughing brightly, the three of you begin chattering away, drifting to the other side of the parlour. He takes a seat near the window and a bite of your muffin. Damn, it’s like biting into a piece of heaven. He can’t tell if he wants to devour everything you have or squirrel it away to treasure it later.
Himeko sits on the seat beside him, eyeing the muffin in his hand and following his gaze towards the three of them. “Y/N really has a knack for baking, hm?”
You do, he agrees. You must practise a lot. Admiring the curve of your lips as you smile, the glittering warmth in your eyes, he wonders where you are headed. Most passengers don’t stay long, excluding the Nameless. He’ll miss you, he thinks.
“Y/N’ll be joining the crew,” Himeko says, as if reading his mind. “It was time someone who follows the path of Abundance joined our ranks, anyway.”
You’ve been hopping from world to world, different IPC ships and had been just about everywhere, helping people affected by the Fragmentum, before Himeko approached you on Herta’s Space Station, she explains. You had never accepted money, only food and shelter and enough to get by before you’d move on.
How noble.
“That’s a lot of work,” he comments. If that was how it was then it’s no wonder you’re so warm. You carried that air of self-assurance that most healers had, something he hadn’t quite placed before.
Himeko nods, smiling faintly. “Y/N is a good person. I think we’ll help them as much as they’ll help us.”
He didn’t quite understand what she meant by that last statement, but she didn’t elaborate, and he never asked. Instead, he directs his gaze out the window and at the winking stars. He wonders how many are worlds you’ve helped before.
Screeching metal, the glint of a blade, a sickening stab and a pierce through his heart. Panic stricken, he whirled around, barely able to retaliate before he was pulled down under.
Then, there was silence.
Dan Heng’s eyes flicker open, his chest raw like the moment he first received the wound. The same dream twice in a week? He sits up, breath escaping in shallow puffs. Standing, he’s out the door before he even realises it, body moving on its own accord.
Water would be good, he decides. Maybe you’d be there too, call it a hunch or call it hope.
He was right. There you were, puttering about the kitchen under the lamp’s golden glow, a soft tune dancing under your breath. Resting a shoulder against the doorframe, he can’t quite decide what to say.
What a coincidence was too snarky, yet what are you making was too blunt. He couldn’t just walk in without saying a word either, that was too rude. Perhaps he should simply return to his room.
“I’m starting to think neither of us sleep.”
Your voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he finds you leaning against the counter, smiling at him with soft amusement. Unwittingly, he begins to smile too. Just the slightest.
“No, I guess not,” he agrees.
“Rough night?” you ask, turning to reach for two mugs. “I’ll make some hot chocolate.”
“You don’t have to,” he says, mostly out of courtesy. Just the thought of the warm drink reveals a slight craving for it. “Nightmares,” he finds himself admitting, something in the atmosphere drawing the confession that much easier. “No, memories, to be precise.”
“Ah, I get it,” you murmur, and he feels like you really do.
He seats himself in the same seat he did three nights prior, and you do as well. The mug of hot chocolate you offer him is accepted gratefully. They might become his favourite drink yet. You have a knack for making them feel like drinking warm hugs.
“I’m making cupcakes tonight,” you explain, noticing the way he glances at the batter on the counter. “Red velvet, one of my favourites.”
He nods in assent, and the both of you settle into comfortable silence. You’ve relaxed into your seat, he observes, resting your head against a hand as the other taps on your mug rhythmically, the porcelain clinking as you do. He maps out the lines of your face whilst you map out each constellation outside, gazing into the eternal night.
“Do you believe in fate?” you ask suddenly, in the moments just before his mug goes cold. He had finished the drink ages ago, he realises. He frowns faintly then, bewildered at the change in the conversation’s direction.
You must sense his confusion, and you’re continuing, “You know, when everything in your life happens because it was meant to be, and all that.”
“I know what fate is,” he replies, “But… why?”
“Why not?” you answer, a playful smile on your lips. “Just… hell, even gods are real, but no one has an answer to it, fate, destiny, or free will?”
You seem to be serious despite your lighthearted tone, so he tries to give you a serious answer in turn.
“I don’t,” he says slowly. “Fate is… complicated. To believe your future is set in stone is foolish at best. What I do believe in is the existence of free will. Life is filled with countless possibilities. Everyone has a path to walk, but it is the individual that chooses their direction.”
“What do you believe in?” he ends off, looking at you piercingly. You’re sitting upright now, alert but pondering all the same.
You hum. “I think… some things really are meant to be, but in the end, it’s your own hands that forge your destiny, no? Fate, free will… whatever it is… It might simply be just what we make of it.”
“Yet if there is no right answer, why ask anyway?” he counters.
Your eyes sparkle, and at that moment, you just might have the universe in your eyes. “Maybe some questions are meant to be asked.”
“And some things aren’t meant to have an answer?”
“Exactly,” you say, with the vigour of a bursting sun. “Nothing matters. Everything matters. Maybe…”
You trail off, an embarrassed chuckle sounding in your throat. “Yea, I have no idea what I just said.”
He can’t quite stop the laugh that leaves his lips.
(Some time later, you stand, stretching as you do. “Damn, I might leave the baking for another day,” you say, voice thick on the cusp of a yawn. “All this philosophical stuff is making me sleepy. You should get some sleep too, I think both of us need it.”
When he returns to his room, something in him prompts him to heed your advice. He sleeps.)
Somehow, both of you had taken to ‘meeting’ in the kitchens during the twilight hours, once every few days. He’d wake up after a nightmare or when sleep simply eluded him, and found you with your sun-like eyes, the songs under your breath and the hot chocolates that felt so much like hugs. You’d speak about anything and everything under the stars, of questions with no answers and answers that meant everything and nothing. Then you’d part ways with his mind swirling and chest bursting, all traces of that phantom wound gone.
(There were days you weren’t there, of course, and he’d be faintly disappointed, but you did still need sleep.)
He’s computing data on Jarilo-VI when someone knocks on his door. It can’t be March, as she’d simply forgo all etiquette and barge in after the first knock. Stelle was out exploring the planet they were currently stationed at, and both Himeko and Mr. Yang were busy. That left… you.
“Come in,” he calls, hearing the door slide open and click shut.
You’ve been an official member of the Astral Express crew for a month now, and this was the first time you’ve specifically sought him out. You’re smiling slightly sheepishly, hand picking at your palm. “Are you busy? I can come back another time…”
He sets down the files, looking up from the monitor. “No, it’s fine. What do you need?”
“I wanted to learn more about Yaoshi,” you tell him, sidling up to his side.
“You can use this,” he says, tilting the screen to you and standing up. He can complete archiving later. The work never ended, in any case. “Search up whatever you need.”
“Thanks!”
He makes himself comfortable at the other corner of his room, picking up the half-finished book on his desk. Vaguely, he’s aware of his bed on the ground and the mess that is his half area of the room. He hopes you don’t think too much of it.
A while later, you stretch, letting out a sigh as your hands drop back to your sides. Your gaze darts around the room inquisitively. “So, this is the archives…” you murmur. Then your eyes meet his. “And your room?”
“I hadn’t planned on staying for long,” he says quickly, an odd need to explain rising. “Then, I suppose I got comfortable.”
You smile, a tad bit wry. “It’s definitely got charm — like that map!”
And you’re getting up, fixated on the large map on the wall. Your eyes are starry, mouth slightly parted as you study the endless abyss that is the observable universe. “That’s, wow, has the Express been to all of them?”
“Not even a fraction of it.” His reply is soft, much like the moment itself.
Your hand raises, reaching for the blank areas at the edges. “So I’m guessing these are the parts yet to be.”
“The universe is always expanding,” he says in lieu of an explanation. “And the Express will trailblaze along with it.”
“That sounds rather pointless, doesn’t it? Mapping out the infinity?” you muse. “Boarding a train whose line never ends? Or does that make it poetic?”
“I suppose it depends on how you look at it.”
You swivel around, eyes bright and blazing with delight, and he can’t quite place why his breath catches. “Maybe that’s just how the universe is meant to be. A line with no end. A atlas which always has two blank pages at the end.”
You seem to catch yourself then, gaze darting downward and a chuckle leaving your lips. “Sorry, I always get weird about these kinds of philosophical stuff.”
“It’s alright,” he assures you, it really is. Life would be that much duller if he had to do without these types of conversations with you. You meet his gaze then, almost bashful, and in that moment, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.
Then you blink, clearing your throat, and the moment vanishes.
“Right. I’ve been here long enough, though, so I’ll just… go now,” you say awkwardly, sending him a dizzying smile before you’re bounding out the room.
Weirdly enough, despite everything he’s seen in this life and before, this was certainly one of the oddest situations he’s been in.
He’s in March’s room, a room bursting with colour and vividness, a stark contrast to his. You’re here too, along with Stelle and March herself. Positioned in the fluffy armchair in the corner, he’s got the best view of the entire place along with the door. Stelle’s made herself comfortable, spread eagled on the bed whilst March and you are seated beside her cross-legged.
He’s not too sure how it came to be so. The three of you turned out to be quite the trio, and he had been in his room as per usual when you three burst in, manhandling him into joining you. (With that grin and your hand on his wrist, he’s partly sure he’d follow you anywhere.)
“Wait, so your name isn’t Stelle because of the stellaron in you?” you ask, head tilted to the side.
Stelle shrugs. “It could be? I don’t remember much of anything before I woke up on the space station.”
“And March’s name is ‘cuz she was found on March 7th…” Then, you pout. “Now I want a cool made up name. Is Dan Heng a made up name?”
“All names are made up,” he tells you dryly.
March blows a raspberry at him. “Don’t be such a wet blanket —” Her eyes light up, and she visibly straightens. “I know! I know! Stelle also means star, I think? We can be the sun, moon and stars! Uhm, I’ll be Solar and you’ll be Luna.”
“That’s kinda dumb,” Stelle adds in, throwing a plush toy in March’s face.
It was kind of dumb. You were definitely more sun than you were moon. He didn’t quite know how he knew. It just was.
March splutters, hurling the plush dog back with vigour. Stelle returns it, hitting you instead, to which you gasp in mock offence to and somehow the three of you end up flinging pillows and plushies at each other. You laugh, bright and delighted, and he’s drawn to the curve of your neck as you throw your head back, the glitter in your half-closed eyes, and the carelessly toothy grin on your face.
He doesn’t notice March staring at him thoughtfully, cogs whirring in her head.
“You like Y/N.”
It’s a week after the pillow fight the three of you had, and it’s one of the times everyone’s gathered in the parlour, with the extra bonus of your delicious baking. Cookies, this time, buttery and vanilla and sweet.
The statement startles him from his thoughts, and he turns to see March in the seat beside him, so close their shoulders brushed. There’s steely determination in her gaze, and a triumphant little smile on her face.
“... What?”
“You like Y/N,” she repeats, and his eyes dart to where you were, conversing with Himeko and Welt a few tables down.
He didn’t quite understand what March was hinting at. Of course he liked you. Everyone liked you. He tells March as such. "Do you not like Y/N…?"
She facepalms, groaning softly.
"No! Of course I do! But you have a crush on Y/N," she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. She beams excitedly, bouncing in her seat. "Like, you know, you wanna date and stuff. It's so cute!"
"I…" he blinks, utterly puzzled, mouth slightly parted. "No…? I don't."
The sound of your laughter draws his attention away from her for the briefest second. Snorting, March slugs his shoulder, rolling her eyes as she does. "Funny. It's so obvious! You're literally giving Y/N heart eyes right now. Even Stelle noticed."
He huffs, fixing her with a glare. "I do not have a crush on Y/N."
March sighs, a knowing smile on her face. Standing, she tousles his hair as she says, "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night!"
She flounces away, leaving him there to scowl and fix his hair. Still, he can't help but feel as if he's missing something important, like a book without its title, or the sun without its moon.
Screeching metal, the glint of a blade, a sickening stab and a pierce through his heart. Panic stricken, he whirled around, barely able to retaliate before he was pulled down under.
Then, there was warmth.
Dan Heng’s eyes flicker open, a hand instinctively rising to his chest. This was getting ridiculously repetitive, to be haunted by the same memory for nights on end. Still… Something felt off about it, as if there were pieces of the puzzle that had yet to make the scene. He doesn’t realise when he got to the kitchen, but he does, and the sight of you chases the worries out of his mind for now.
“Do we ever sleep?” he asks rhetorically, taking his usual seat at the aisle.
You grin, setting down two mugs in front of him. “S’pose not. I’m gonna have to take a really long nap soon, though.”
Your nails clink against the porcelain, a habit of yours he’s gotten used to, but what’s curious is the way sparks are emitting from your fingertips. He frowns, concerned, but you don’t seem to notice — or mind.
“Your hands…”
Looking down, you let out a soft ‘oh’, and wiggle them. “Eh,” you say nonchalantly, rubbing your thumb and index finger together. “Part of the package deal with my powers. They’ll go away soon.”
“It doesn’t hurt?” he questions, just to make sure.
“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ ever so slightly. “But the insomnia’s a bitch.”
You’re rolling a ball of… fire(?) in your palms now, eyes golden with the reflection of it. His confusion grows by the second. Glancing up, you notice it, and you smile a little wistfully.
“When I started following the Abundance, I gained some sort of fire powers? But there’s always a catch, isn’t there? The energy kind of accumulates inside of me until I use it. When I don’t use it, this happens —” you hold up your hand to show him, summoning a wisp of a flame before snatching your palm back “— along with the insomnia. But after draining the energy, I get really sleepy and black out for a few days. It depends on how much I drain, of course.”
“And your energy hasn’t been drained since…”
“Since I joined the Express,” you finish for him. “No one’s needed healing since then, anyway. Which is a good thing.”
“Nothing in the data bank stored any information on this type of power,” he says, mostly to himself. He’d do another search later. There had to be something. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
“Yep! Our next station is Penacony, isn’t it? I can stop by the hospitals there or something.”
“Alright,” he replies, albeit rather dubiously.
Then your eyes gleam wickedly, and you rub your palms together in imitation of some storybook villain. “Wanna see something cool?”
And as you showcase your talent in manipulating fire, he can’t help but admire you. The minute he thought he knew all there was to know about you, you had gone and revealed something entirely fantastical about yourself.
Literal healing abilities that stemmed from pyrokineses. That explained quite a lot, actually. Sunny eyes, sunny smile, sunny demeanor. You were practically the embodiment of the sun, and this simply perfected it even further. Warm inside and out. He brings the cup of hot chocolate to his lips, taking a small sip. You could even create warmth too.
Your smile is wide and expectant as you present to him a fiery image of the Express, which morphs into Pom-Pom, then Stelle, Mr. Welt, Himeko and finally March.
Intrusively, his mind conjures up the image of March’s excited, knowing announcement. You like Y/N.
Preposterous. He didn't like you in that way. You were a good friend, and he was merely close to you. Sure, you were sweet, baked really well, funny, a great conversationalist, bubbly yet not overbearing like March herself and utterly sunny and— Oh.
Oh.
He liked you.
Nothing changed. Much. Realising he had a little more than platonic feelings toward you only seemed to heighten his awareness of you. Your laugh. Your eyes. Your warmth. You, in general.
Except March seemed to know too, if her shit-eating grin and horrendously concealed inneundos were any indication. You should ask them on a date, she had squealed once.
He couldn’t just ask you out. How would he even go about doing that? Any train of thought in that direction just left him feeling incredibly awkward. Being your friend was enough, he decided. Your night-time meetings. Your hot chocolate. It was more than enough.
“He almost kissed me,” Stelle wails dramatically, shaking your shoulders. “You know how shocked I was? I woke up to a random dude in my face! Never let him do CPR ever again.”
March nods along solemnly. “You can do all the first aid, right Y/N? That man doesn’t know any to save his life.”
“As if you know any more than I do,” he snipes back, faintly horrified they were telling all of this to you. He remembers that day. March and Stelle were definitely overselling it. “And it wasn’t that bad.”
“Of course not,” Stelle says dubiously, shooting him a dirty look.
You’re cackling, wiping tears out of your eyes. “No way. None of you know first aid? I can teach y’all some.”
March squeals, clapping her hands. “YES! Let’s do CPR. I volunteer Dan Heng as tribute.”
“I don’t want CPR on me again.” Stelle nods in a ‘fine by me’ gesture, humming as she does. “Dan Heng, you do it.”
“Majority wins,” you sing, grinning, and shrug at him as his gaze meets yours rather helplessly. “Get on the ground, on your back.”
March does it for him, practically shoving him on the ground. He glowers at her, to which she deftly ignores. Stelle’s only snickering from the bed. You settle down near his side, and all he can see is your back and hair as you turn to speak with the other two.
“Right, so first, you make sure there’s nothing dangerous around you, the casualty and anyone else. Then, you check whether they’re responsive or not, and for major wounds and whatnot. Call for help if you can.”
You shift him flat on his back, and kneel with one knee near his shoulder and the other at his waist. You lift up your palms and show everyone how you put one above the other, interlocking them, positioning them. He can’t quite stop the small hitch in his breath when you lean over him, hands hovering just above his chest.
“Make sure your knees are positioned like this, and your elbows are locked. The heel of your palm should be right in the middle and your middle finger should align with the nipple.”
March and Stelle both giggle at your last statement, and he wills himself not to react. He can feel you roll your eyes at them. You lean away from him then, and there's a small pang of disappointment which he wholly ignores.
You continue to explain how to count each set, and how to time them, and rattle off some songs they could follow the beat to.
He's hit with a strong, strong sense of admiration for you. He hasn't seen you out on field yet, but with the way you teach and demonstrate everything with practised ease makes him that much surer of your capabilities.
Then you turn back to him, a sheepish look on your face. “Okay, time for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
Oh.
"No! Not actually!" you practically screech, with the way March and Stelle start howling and the widening of his eyes. "I'm just going to explain how it works — Stelle, shut up."
"Fine, fine," the girl in question says, voice thick with amusement.
"After you're done with the first set of CPR but the casualty still isn't breathing, you'd want to do something called a head-tilt chin-lift."
You place two fingers under his chin, literally tilting his head upward. He sincerely hopes you can't feel how shallow his breaths are.
"Then you're gonna have to pinch the casualty's nose, and well, breathe into their mouth. If their chest rises on the first breath, yay, you’re done! If not, you breathe into their mouth again, and..."
You carry on with the impromptu lesson, walking everyone through a few different scenarios. He'd be committing everything to memory if only his mind would stop flashing back to how your hands were so close—
Soon enough, the conversation changes its course, and everyone moves on except for March, whose grin is ever wider and the sparkles in her eyes like fireworks.
'Stop it,' he mouths at her.
She sticks her tongue out at him.
("Hey, we're good, right?" you ask him the next day, a faint furrow between your brows. "The CPR thing yesterday, you just seemed a little uncomfortable."
"It's alright," he says, because it really was. "It was fine."
"Okay then.")
Screeching metal, the glint of a blade, a sickening stab and a pierce through his heart. Panic stricken, he whirled around, barely able to retaliate before he was pulled down under.
Then, there was a gentle voice, hushed and comforting.
“You’re gonna be fine. This is no place to die.”
Dan Heng’s eyes flicker open. That dream… how odd. That was certainly something different. He raises a hand to his chest, feeling at the scar through his clothes. There was no sting, no burning sensation. It didn’t hurt, not one bit.
He stands easily, to the kitchens, by now a well rehearsed habit.
You were there, as always, somehow as it should. It brings him comfort all the same.
“Rough night?”
“Memories, is all.”
“Ah…”
Setting down a mug in front of him, you turn back to your baking, an odd deviation in routine. Sparks dance down your hands and fingers from time to time. “No hot chocolate for me today — I want to finish these cookies. Any requests?”
“Chocolate chips?” he suggests softly. “I like them.”
You chuckle. “Sure.”
He watches as you putter about the kitchen, waltzing to the rhythm in your soul. Humming again, bright and airy, that same old tune. He never did get the name of that song, did he?
“Wanna talk about it?” you ask suddenly. “About the memories? Talking with someone usually helps.”
“They’re not very happy stories,” he tells you in lieu. Would you want to hear about how he almost died? How that memory plagued his sleep? His past was a miserable, miserable tale.
“They never are, are they?” is your reply.
He chuckles humorlessly, watching the bubbly foam in his cup swirl and swirl and swirl itself into a vortex. “When I first — long before the Express, I was on an IPC ship affected by the Fragmentum, helping to clear it out. I was too inexperienced, and got myself outnumbered. I should’ve died then, but I didn’t.”
Letting out a soft, frustrated exhale, he takes a swig off his drink. “That’s where the memory ends — where I wake up. I never got to see… When I woke up, the doctors told me the person who helped me had already left.”
“What a shame,” you comment. “But c’est la vie, I guess.”
“What does that mean?” he asks curiously. He never knew you spoke another language.
“It’s a saying I got from one of the worlds I visited! It means ‘that’s life’, I think,” you say brightly.
“You know the worst thing?” he asks, and after your prompting, continues, “The only thing I have left from that day is a scar.”
You’re moulding the cookie dough into shape now, its scent wafting through the air delectably. Sighing, you turn back to look at him with a small, sad smile. “Some say scars are the tapestries left on your skin from the victories you win. That kinda applies there, right?”
“Technically it was a loss…”
“Well, you survived against all odds. That seems like a win enough.”
The fervour in your voice is… surprising. He’d never know you’d defend his honor this passionately, even if it was to himself.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess it does.”
The both of you fall into an easy sort of silence for the rest of the night. It was, admittedly, another thing he loved about you — how simple it was to talk to you, yet at the same time to be silent with you. Spending time with you was something he loved, point blank.
His new form was… jarring, to say the least. Or was it his old form? There had barely been anything to process anything when—
"Dan Heng," you breath out, hushed and hasty, eyes sweeping over his body. You're bloody and bruised, he notes, breathing hard through your nose. A gash on your cheek that's half healed, and the odd angle your wrist is in.
Your first fight, he realises. The way you held your own is no mere feat, but you weren't a fighter, you shouldn't have had to. And against people that could've killed you a thousand times over? All because of him, and his past.
Yet you're only staggering up to him, concerned etched into your every feature. He meets you there partway, resisting the urge to bring his hand to your cheek.
"Are you hurt?" you ask, a hand reaching for his chest.
Your touch is warm, familiar. It sends sparks flying down his spine and heat up his cheeks, but he wills it away. He murmurs, "I should be asking you that."
"I'll heal," you tell him nonchalantly, batting the concern away. Your other hand wipes the blood off your cheeks, revealing smooth skin where the boy had once cut. "See? Now, what about you? That guy really did a number on you…"
Your gaze stray to where his heart should be. Not even his clothes are torn.
"The last time you got stabbed, you —"
"Nearly died," he finishes. "Don't worry about me. I… The Vidyadhara are hard to kill."
You snort, smirking slightly. You glance at his horns, gaze trailing down. It felt… different from how you did earlier. "You never told me you had an even prettier form."
He feels his entire brain short-circuit right then and there.
"I… you — what?"
You laugh, teasing and delighted. He scowls, to cover his fluster, reluctantly pushing you away. "March is corrupting you."
Shrugging, you turn to Jing Yuan, who he had forgotten was there. His… old friend. At least, his past incarnation's friend. The man leads the both of you to a starskiff. It was high time you reunited with the rest, anyway.
You nudge him with your elbow. "You're keeping it, right?"
He huffs.
"That's not a no!"
"Am I dying?" Stelle rasps, staring at her blood-stained hand. She's audibly wheezing, breath shaky as she stumbles to the ground.
You're there in an instant, shooing March away, however much the girl wanted to help. Even her shields hadn't been enough for Phantylia, and one of her attacks had struck Stelle in the ribs.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Stelle clutch your hand. "I'm too young to die!"
"You're going to be fine, you hear me?" you tell her, yet he detects undertones of worry in your voice. "This is no place to die."
That statement. It sounded so… familiar.
He takes his chance in the lull during battle to glance to the sidelines. Stelle's flat on the ground, blood pooling near her waist and your knees. Hands above the gaping wound, red-hot energy spreads from your palms to her skin. That must feel warm, he finds himself thinking inadvertently.
"That tickles," she complains, evidently much better.
"At least you're not— not dead," you retort dryly, punctuated by a yawn.
"Hey, you good?"
"Just peachy."
You help her up, and Stelle takes her place beside him, already raring for another go. His gaze finds you with concern, only to receive a soft yet determined smile in reply.
"Let's finish this."
(Later, you're all on a starskiff headed toward respite.
Immediately, you slump yourself against him, dropping your head on his shoulder. You're warm, and he can feel the way your chest rises and falls with each breath. The way his heart flutters is utterly juvenile, but it does all the same.
However… the battle was over, yet your words couldn't seem to leave his mind. This is no place to die. Somehow, he knew that statement. But where was it from?
He's definitely never heard it from you. He'd know if it were, he could probably recite most conversations he's had with you by heart. And still…
He turns to you, only to find you already lightly dozing. He can't find the heart in him to wake you.)
Screeching metal, the glint of a blade, a sickening stab and a pierce through his heart. Panic stricken, he whirled around, barely able to retaliate before he was pulled down under.
Then, there were warm hands, soft eyes.
“This is no place to die.”
Dan Heng’s eyes flutter open. That dream again…
But how could it be? You? Had you been the one to save him? Or was he just projecting his crush on you into the memory? You would have told him if you had met him all that time ago, wouldn’t you have? He had even told you about it some nights ago…
Swiftly, he stands, resolve firm. He heads to your room, a feeling in his gut that told him that was exactly where you’d be. Honestly, if you were in the kitchens tonight, he’d drag you back to bed himself.
A faint ‘come in’ responds to his knock on your door, and he steps in carefully. Your eyes are half-mast, hair mussed from sleep, and he vaguely wonders if he should’ve saved it for the morning. Yet, the sight you make is just incredibly endearing and he can’t bring himself to regret much.
“Come sit.” You pat the spot on your bed next to you, beckoning him over. He moves almost on his body’s own accord, settling by you so naturally as if it had always meant to be.
“You know, they say ‘character is fate’,” you tell him, interrupting whatever he had been about to say. “Because even from infinite paths to choose from, your character makes it so that you wouldn’t have chosen any other way, in every lifetime and the next.”
“Does that make the two of us fated?” you continue softly, playing with the strands of his now long hair. “If I hadn’t chose to become a healer, if you hadn’t been on that ship…”
“The whole time, why didn’t you tell me that — that it was you?” he asks, gaze meeting yours searchingly.
“That day I saw you on the Express, I thought that it must’ve been fate, y’know?” you explain, smiling wistfully. “You didn’t remember me then, and I didn’t want to bring up the past since you’ve always seemed so uncomfortable about it. I told myself that it would be up to fate if you remembered or not, hah.”
Your reasoning was entirely, perfectly logical, and yet fantastical all the same. You were always one to believe in fate. Still… “I just… it had been you all along.”
You, with the hot chocolates and the sunny-like demeanor and the midnight talks. You, who traversed the universe helping others selflessly, who during your first battle were only concerned with him and his health. You, who he had so irrevocably fallen in love with.
Shit, he didn’t just like you. He loved you. Or at least, he was on the very cusp of it, at the moment just before a star was born, ready to fall, ready to let go.
“I think it’s fate,” you announce seriously. “I mean, I made chocolate chip cookies the day we met and they’re actually your favourite.”
“I only decided they were my favourite after tasting yours,’ he retorts without thinking, still faintly stunned by the revelation.
You laugh, sharp and amused and delighted. “That good?”
“The best.”
“Can I see it?” you ask suddenly, turning to him in a way your shoulders lean against his.
He swallows, instantly understanding what you were alluding to. Hesitantly, he nods, pulling up his shirt to reveal the spot where there should’ve been a scar. Your hand grazes along his skin, and he’s sure you can feel the way he shudders.
“This form doesn’t scar,” he murmurs lowly, almost apologetic. That scar had meant many things. His weakness, his survival. His past, his future.
You hum under your breath, and the way the faint starlight reflects off of your eyes should be considered ethereal. “Well, I guess it’s good you don’t. With the amount of fights you and Stelle get into…”
Glancing up at him, you meet his eyes, and you smile shyly, like the sun peeking through the clouds. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Suddenly parched, his tongue darts across his lips. Was it just him or had you always been this close? Something delicate was in the air, as if the simplest move would break it, and he couldn’t quite make a sound despite the hammering in his heart. The hand you have on his chest hasn’t moved, warm, but trembling ever so slightly. He —
“If you don’t say something I think I’m gonna kiss you,” you whisper, almost out of breath, and your eyes oh so wanting.
It’s all the confirmation he needs. He dips his head, a hand snaking around your waist as finally, your lips meet. Your hands find its way in his hair, and you’re sighing into the kiss, the smile evident on your face. He feels himself do the same.
It’s no more of a kiss than a simple brush of lips, but it’s sweet and shy and promised so much more that he feels warmth unfurl in every fibre of him. You relax against him, nuzzling your face into his neck, and he can’t help but place a kiss atop your head.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” you confess, muffled into his body.
“Surely not as long as I have…”
You laugh. “March is going to take one look at us tomorrow and scream ‘I told you so’. She’s been saying you liked me back since forever.”
Despite March’s annoying meddling, he feels a tad grateful toward her. Without her intervention, he probably would’ve taken much longer to realise his feelings toward you.
“You asked me once if I believed in fate, and I told you I didn’t. I still don’t,” he says, musing, rambling, barely putting two words before the other before he’s speaking. “But you do. So if it’s any worth, you’re my fate. Infinite paths to choose from and I’d always pick this one, if it gets me to you.”
You still, and for a moment, he thinks he’s messed up, that whatever he had said earlier was too rushed. Then, you’re hugging him, squeezing him so tightly his ribs might cave in. The smile on your face is radiant, your eyes dazzlingly bright.
“That means you’re stuck with me, y’know,” you say loftily, “Possibly forever.”
He’s sure the look on his face is absolutely, irrevocably lovesick. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” he vows. “‘Til the end of the line, and not a second less.”
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choochooboss · 1 year
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Submas sketchdump! Vol. 1
April-June 2022
Literally dumping all the presentable works as promised, whether I'm proud of them or not! This is where I started, even before the first thing I posted online (That subway station one). Many of these are not on Twitter yet so there's lots to see!
The top piece above the header is my very first digital Submas artwork!! I never finished it bc I didn't know how to pull my vision of as I wanted & started modeling the train and didn't finish that either, whoops! I really want to remake this later and make it super cool!
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^^^ My reaction to breaking 500 likes & 100 followers in a single day with my first tweet (the battle subway one) all the way back in May!! I was completely floored by all the attention, oh how it skyrocketed my excitement and anxiety! Crazy times, I was so super nervous to be there with so many amazing artists and doubted if I could ever survive there ahahah!! Many had joined the community much much earlier than me, so I had arrived with a late train to PLA/neo Submas hype!
Next up is a bunch of stuff I haven't posted before:
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One of my fav sketches! Been saving this for so long bc I really really want to finish this one day!
One of the first submas sketches with an actual story behind it! The subway bosses are running late for their flight because they didn't pass the safety check! The irony!! This would never happen as bosses are always on schedule. But Emmet hadn't noticed a wild Joltik hiding under his coat, so he set up the alarm and they got examined and interrogated of smuggling! How embarrassing for them! The bosses resolved the situation by catching the Joltik, but will they be able to catch their flight anymore?? Maybe if Elesa can distract the stuerts performing the safety protocol for a minute!
More sketchbook stuff...
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In case you can't make any sense of it, Emmet's dreaming of different combinations of pokémon. Meanwhile Ingo snores louder than the train! HONK SHOO!
Top 7 every submas fan draws at some point!
Submas trademark posing
submas sleeping in a train
sad Emmet
Emmet with Joltik
Ingo with a cool solo pose
Emmet being chaotic & Ingo reacting to it
a bunch of mirrored submas poses
I sure have a full bingo card lmao, most of them you can see here XD
Next up is a sad man...
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Stay strong our friends!
My typical sketchbook pages, crammed and messy as usual. x)
Post-PLA exploration:
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A few examples of how my pencil sketches evolve.
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I've done so much art experimenting with submas. I really like this black & white painting but I don't think I'll finish it anytime soon.
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Where did you go?
The way I draw the twins' faces has changed a lot. They started with softer features and somewhat neutral emotions, because I wasn't as familiar with them or comfortable drawing them yet. Now there's hundreds of submas sketches, and they still keep evolving! My style is also kinda hard to pull off well, so their features differ from picture to picture.
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This one was inspired by some submas music videos, can't recall their names anymore. The glowing eerie eyes and yellow&orange + black&white color schemes were neat!
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I keep telling myself I need to draw more butlers, these twinks look so lean and neat and have more color and are posh with their monocles and have fun tailcoats!
(...why eyeglasses are not called binocles??)
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I was there for the vinegar chaos. Good times!
That's all for now, I hope you got something fun out of this! Still got loads more art to share but I'll save them for another time. Next round I'll bring in my first submas comic!
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thankskenpenders · 6 months
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And now for something new
So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!
Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.
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If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...
Number one: Why?
Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?
And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.
Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?
NO!!!!!!!!!
Okay but prove it
To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.
If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!
This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.
It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.
(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)
Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!
I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.
I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.
(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)
Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.
So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.
Look forward to goofy shit like this
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haywire-hetfield · 3 months
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Metallica members getting you high for the first time (gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic)
Cliff
Cliff is probably the most casual out of all of them. He doesn't make it a big deal or anything. He's gotten other people high for the first time before, so it's not new to him.
You two are just hanging out the first time you try it. He's smoking on the couch and you mention you've never smoked before.
Of course, he asks if you'd like to. He lets you finish the rest of his joint, telling you that you don't need more than that the first time.
He only mildly laughs at you when you end up in a coughing fit, assuring you everyone does that their first time.
He's the most equipped, making sure you have plenty of drinks and snacks.
You two spend the rest of the night just talking on the couch, some soft music playing in the background.
Kirk
Kirk would be the most supportive during. He makes sure you actually want to try it and aren't just doing it because you feel like you need to.
He'd have a space specifically for getting high and take you there. It's decked out with comfy pillows, blankets, etc.
He stays stocked with snacks and drinks as well as relaxing records he likes to put on while he's high.
He also has the most options for what you can try. He suggests trying a thc gummy or a thc pen first.
He intentionally gets less high than he normally would, wanting to make sure he's alert if you need anything.
Probably has some fun facts about weed (and definitely has weed jokes.)
Stays with you the entire time until you finally go asleep, making sure you have everything you need and making sure you're still okay.
Dave
He's actually the one who suggests you try getting high. He's drunk when he pitches the idea, but when you bring it up again the next day, he's still down.
He doesn't smoke often because he doesn't like the way it makes him feel, preferring to get drunk instead.
He has tried edibles a few times, but he tends to stay away from them. They make him feel weird and besides, he likes how smoking makes his voice sound anyway.
He used to have a pipe, but he decided it was too much of a risk. Anything that could be broken ended up getting smashed at some point, so he sticks to blunts.
He'd have a wide variety of flavored blunt wraps, despite not smoking very often. He even lets you pick whichever one you want to try.
He isn't the outwardly supportive like the others are, not really reassuring or checking in, but he hangs out with you the entire time and he's a comforting presence.
James
He'd be the most nervous about getting you high for the first time. He stresses about what's going to happen if you freak out or get sick or something.
Eventually, he agrees to do it. (Mainly because he doesn't trust all of the others with getting you high for the first time, mostly Lars.)
He prefers edibles over smoking because he thinks it fucks up his voice too much and it dries his throat out.
He's got a collection of various snacks for you two to try and he starts you out with a comically small amount.
He's a bit reluctant to keep giving you more, but he gets more relaxed as time goes on and he realizes nothing bad is happening.
Once you two are both high, it's a lot easier. He's completely relaxed and you're both laughing together.
You two spend the entire night watching movies on the couch and talking, although you're not sure how coherent you actually are during.
James is more willing to get high with you again after the first time, finding he actually had a really good time with you.
Jason
Easily the most excited about the idea of getting you high. He's never been with someone the first time they've gotten high before, so it's interesting to him.
He watches you the entire time you're smoking, trying to give you pointers, but he's not the greatest at explaining it.
He is the most likely to either have a broken bong (the bowl gets stuck now, so he has to pull it for you) or a DIY bong made out of something not intended to be smoked out of.
Asks you a ton of questions during, mostly about how you feel. It's been a while since he got high for the first time, so he's curious.
Definitely the cuddliest member when high, wanting to stay snuggled up to you the entire time.
He tells you horror stories about times he's been high or how others have been because he thinks it'll be funny. (It is not.)
Lars
He's definitely the one who actually encourages you to try it the most. He thinks it'll be fun to watch you at the very least.
He goes for joints for your first time and he ends up having to get it from one of the others. (He's not great at rolling joints.)
He spends most of the night focused on getting you high instead of smoking himself.
Thinks it's funny to mess with you while you're high, specifically putting on whatever movie or TV show he thinks will fuck with you the most.
He's especially giggly and you can't tell if it's because he's high or because you are.
He would definitely brag about being the person who got you high for the first time.
Ron
He's the one least excited to teach someone how to get high. He already has to put up with the rest of the band when they're high, he gets tired.
But when you promise you won't be an asshole, he gives in.
He's the only one who actually knows how to roll joints, but he ends up teaching you how to use a bong.
He's a pretty good teacher, despite being a reluctant one. He isn't as interested in watching you get high, but he enjoys your company nonetheless.
He prefers being outside when he gets high, so you two sit in his car with all the windows down and the radio on.
If it's at night, he absolutely points out different stars and constellations for you.
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