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Cosmic Funnies

oozey mess
DEAR READER

if i look back, i am lost
Keni

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
Jules of Nature
ojovivo
Cosimo Galluzzi

Love Begins

★
art blog(derogatory)
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Three Goblin Art
seen from Japan

seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from China

seen from T1

seen from Moldova

seen from South Africa

seen from Brazil

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States

seen from United States
@rxckyroads-blog
To be in control once again was nothing but a beautiful fate. Dylon had been forced to watch from the mirror as Blake had all the fun. He’d watched as he got to go to the parties, got laid, and got drunk. Despite the perverse implications, it wasn’t as if he had an actual choice. but Blake had taken special precautions to make sure that he did whatever it took to keep Dylon at bay. Between his yoga, the exercise, and his skepticism towards the pills, it’d been difficult to take control. But luckily, all of that had exhausted the primary, allowing Dylon to finally take over. It was his chance to finally to have a bit of fun.
Entering the gay club, something Blake would never do. A smirk spread across Dylon’s lips as he saw all the beautiful and shirtless men on the dance floor. “This is going to be fun.” Blake took his own shirt off, tucking it into his back pocket, making his way onto the dance floor.
Overall, Matthieu was simply uncomfortable. A certain friend had made it their goal in life to get him to go out more, though, so here he was, in the midst of America's Horniest. Not that he had a problem with that. Sex was great. Dancing was fun, making out was superb. He was just bad at things. He was clumsy, bad at picking up social cues, and just generally nervous. Put simply, Matthieu was a mess. But! He was friendly, and fairly determined not to give up on this whole social thing.
Matthieu himself was completely sure he danced like a white boy. He did. But he danced like a gay white boy, which was just a little bit better. Made it easier to blend into this scene.Thankfully his attire helped with his movements and the heat on the dance floor. The low sleeved tank top exposed his sides and the jean-cut shorts weren't all too uncomfortable. He was doing a pretty good job of being gay. It was chillin'.
“Voir? J’avais raison. J’ai un sixième sens quand il s’agit de ces choses.” A grin spreads across Enzo’s own face, bright—it was infectious. When Matthieu smiled, he had to smile. His cards lay facedown on the bed, and he instead decides to finger Matthieu’s cute little curls and twirl them around his finger. “You tried your best.”
"N'avez-vous pas besoin de l'un des cinq sens pour être en mesure de dire? Vue." He says teasingly, looking up at Enzo from his spot on the bed. After a few seconds, he sits up, collecting the cards that were scattered on the bed. "Messy, messy." As usual. He scooches closer to the other, his nose resting comfortable at the base of Enzo's neck. "Put these on the desk, s'il vous plaît?" He asked quietly, getting fairly comfortable in his spot leaning against Enzo.
“… Vous êtes mauvais à ce jeu, Matthieu. Why do we keep playing this game if you’re going to keep losing?” Enzo teased the little French boy enough normally, but when his stomach was filling with wine, he was a Tipsy Terror. “It’s a nine, don’t try to fool me. You don’t have any green cards, do you?”
"Vous êtes… vous êtes délirant, Enz. Il s’agit d’un neuf! Honnête!" Matthieu started grinning a bit, which would definitely blow his cover, so he decided to hide his face with his hand of cards, placing an index finger against his friend’s lips. "Shhh, shh, Enzo." And— …down goes Matthieu. Laying on top of the cards, head resting on Enzo’s lap. "S’a six. I lied."
Christian just grinned at the invitation and the familiar accent the other hand. Christian’s was properly only nicer because of his upbringing, the upper class tended to bring perhaps a smoother edge to the accent thanks to many private schools. The blond moved down to sit across from the boy with a little sight smirk. “Well, thank you. Christian, by the way” he said said as he extended a hand to the other boy.”And do I get the privilege of having your name handsome?”
Not gonna lie, Matthieu grew up on thirft stores and scraping the last bits of peanut butter off the edge of the jar so you could make one last sandwich before running to the corner store to buy yet another jar just to have the same god damn breakfast again for the next week. "I'm Matthieu. Matthieu Lécuyer." He responded, in the most drawn out, mockingly suave french accent he could muster up. Not making fun of this guy in particular, just the language as a whole. "Aw, you're so nice. You should walk around with me everywhere. It'll boost my confidence."
“I’m aware this is a little strange, but I saw you sitting alone. And I wanted to know if perhaps you wanted company?” Christian’s french accent was a soft and gentle, his eyes bright as he leaned against the wall. “Feel free to say no, I won’t be offended. It’s hard to tell sometimes what Americans consider rude. You just caught my eye and well…”
A grin touched on the corner's of Matthieu's face, and he shrugged, setting down his feet to rest on the floor, and opposed to sitting on the bench cross-legged. This guy seemed fun. He was French. Matthieu was French. Though, this guy seemed to have a nicer voice. Matthieu's French accent was like sandpaper on a chalkboard. Uninviting and kind of gross. "Sit, sit. I don't mind at all."
"...What? What do you mean that's a nine? Look't it, Enz, the little platform thing is on the --" Oh, fuck. He's right. He couldn't back down now, though. Uno was prideful shit. "Dude, it's a six. It's a six, I promise."
"That was the last steak" He pouted as the man placed the steaks into his grocery kart and walked away. "I was craving that"
It was something about the vibration patterns in the ground that enhanced his hearing a little bit. "Oh -- you can have it," he said, offering the steak. "My friend wanted steak, but it's too tough for my taste, so he can deal with chicken."
"Can I just have a coke please?" He smiled at the bartender as he turned towards the man before slowy turning around. The club was boring tonight but he didn’t mind. The music was nice so he danced a little but over all he was bored.
"He-lllloooo, my friend." The bartender was kind of hot. Or -- maybe Matthieu's perception was just off because this guy was the one giving him drinks. "I would like another rum and coke, please." There was only a little bit of a disconnect between his body and mind, so he wasn't too drunk, thank heavens.
Caleb let out a light laugh as he saw the male’s more than surprised face. Obviously he wasn’t used to being caught using his powers, which was going to work out completely to his advantage right now. ”I can see that, but I’m wondering how you’re able to do that. It looks pretty rad if you ask me.” Of course, he wanted to make sure the other wouldn’t hurt him with those powers. Who knows what else he can do other than make rocks float. ”Call me CJ. What about you, Rocky?”
This was so weird. Don't people hate this kind of stuff? Weird stuff? Moving rocks with your body kind of stuff? It was supposed to make you run and scream, not ask about Matthieu's name. "I-It's a gift, I guess..." He didn't feel all that comfortable sharing his secret with this guy, but what was he supposed to do?! 'CJ' not freaking out told Matthieu that he must've been involved with this powers shit somehow, right? What if his power was like, murdering people? That would suck. "I'm Matthieu. Or -- er... Yeah. Matthieu."
springlingding || Matthieu & Levi
Gayyyyy, said the little annoying shit that was his conscious. He shoved the voice back to the darkest depths of his head and gave him a charming smile, wanting to get to know the interesting individual with the charming accent. “That’s really sweet of you, so I’m guessing you’re not from here. French, right?”
This was the weirdest shit. Generally through the course of his life, Matthieu got as much attention as a grain of sand in the Sahara. Right now he's doing his best to not slap the other, just to make sure they had a proper hold of themselves. This is M-A-T-T-H-I-E-U, you're talking to. Matthieu. You're supposed to walk by and pretend you don't see him. He offered a shrug and a small smile, "It's fun. And -- yes. French. Y-You could understand me, right?"
"Hi. I’m Pierce and I suck at French. So. Adieu? Is that even how you say hi, I don’t even know."
"That's goodbye." Matthieu said, grinning. "What chapter are you guys on, anyway?"
Caleb was on his way back from Levi’s warehouse in the middle of the desert when he noticed something odd. Well, not odd, but different that he hadn’t seen before. A super was using his powers so freely without any fear of the SRD it would seem. After all, if someone were to see this boy doing this, surely he’d be taken away, which was a no no for Caleb. ”Hey!” He yelled up to the male, his arms folding across his chest. ”Cool ride.”
You cannot do that to him! He was a very, very fragile little lamb. Scared so easily. Especially if he thinks he's alone, and you shout at him? He'll freak out! He lets out a small yelp, and him and his rock fall to the ground, right in front of the dude. Thankfully his bone density was off the charts -- else that would've hurt a little bit. Rubbing the back of his head, he allows his eyes to focus before he responds, a little bit more than flustered. "I -- Uh, thanks?" He paused, face reddening just a touch. "It -- it's a rock. That, uh, floats."
The happiness that exuded from his new acquainted friend was enough to make Miles pull his head back a bit and smile, even letting out a light laugh. ”I’m glad you’re happy and I could help.” He said, also happy he finally had a use for the language his mother taught him so many years ago. ”Ma mère a parlé français. Elle m’a appris parler elle." He said in a natural voice, hoping it was good enough. He knew the french language was something that should be practice more often than he practiced it. "I’m sorry if I’m a bit rusty." He said as he cleared his throat. "It’s been a while."
He continued to laugh as he looked out towards the city. His father’s building was an easy indication of which direction to go. ”You see that big building right there?” He asked, pointing to the large sign that said Vigra on it. ”That sign points north, so go that direction. It’s the easiest way I could think of to keep helping you.”
"Non, non! It's fine, you're great! Do not worry." The words the other spoke brought him back to a time with his own mother -- the days of flashcards and late nights doing complex math homework she tried her best to help him with, though he knew her education didn't go too far. She was a try hard mother, and that's all he could ask of her. Thinking about this, his grin was reduced to a small smile, but he mentioned none of it, and decided to simply move on with his thoughts. It's not as though every waking moment was a heartache for his longing mother -- his sadness was occasional, and only existent when provoked.
V-I-G-R-A. That's what that huge sign read. --The one that apparently pointed north. It was a good indicator! Matthieu saw that sign so much, it had become white noise for the eyes. "Thank you so much, my friend. It means a lot. I'm Matthieu. Matthieu Lécuyer. What is your name? You must allow me to thank you properly, mon ami."
Enzo glanced over the side of the bed, completely nonplussed about the fate of his lamp. He was even more nonplussed when he saw that it was not, in fact, broken.
Relaxed, he waved his hand through the air. “I invested in sturdier lamps after people started knocking them over in their sleep.” But instead of picking it up, he whomps Matthieu upside the head with the end of his pillow. “My lamp is fine.”
"Oof--" That one actually threw him a little bit off guard, considering his friend was in the middle of a sentence and he was currently visually invested in the lamp, not him.
"...Are you talking about me? I've only knocked it over four times in our entire existence here. Which -- Which I think is pretty good, considering I'm me." Grinning, he used the pillow he was currently hugging while playing DS, to whack Enzo. He didn't want to stoop to this level of slumber party, but he damn well would to maintain his dignity.
springlingding || Matthieu & Levi
Levi grinned at Matt’s rosey cheeks, but he decided not to comment on it, having noticed the boy’s shy disposition from a mile away. When he looked down to find a name tag, the expression he had made seemed to be worthy of the cutie olympics. If you could give someone a blue ribbon for adorable blue eyes and a jawline that could kill, Levi would’ve planted one in his hair a long time ago. “I’m gonna call you Matt. Or Matty. I’m Levi, Levi Duncan. So do you regularly work as a tour guide around here or is it just volunteer work?”
"Those definitely work. Nice to see you, Levi." He nodded, a small grin replacing older, more nervous facial features. Matthieu could feel himself growing more comfortable around this dude, which was always a good thing. Especially when you couldn't ease your nerves to save your life. It was probably because he emptied out all that knowledge. Now that he knows he did all that without failure, what else could go wrong? Matthieu could tackle the world at this point! Probably get fucked up along the way, but hey, he tried. "No, no. I'm just volunteering. I like seeing the flowers. And I like helping people. Kind of bad at it, though. But that's okay!" G-A-Y, Matthieu.