#bagels are hard to draw

[askscarletsmp]

one hundred bagels

I'm not counting how many bagels those are

[slightlytoastedbagel]

my brain can't make sense of it rn but please take my hand and ponder the differences between the family structure of the Shiraishi household compared to the rest of vbs.

[collectmybagels]

Collect My Bagels #3 - The Chosen Ones (Part II)

sometimes, heroes choose willingly

id in alt text

[elline]

uuuhhhm mm. burps

[spinningbagel]

Err,, this is a redraw of a piece I did like,, two years ago in August

(The piece in question)

The improvement is crazyy like you don’t even know 🙏🙏

[littlesistersti-backupandspam]

doodle

… did my sister went back in to rewrite my own handwriting?

Waiter: What do you want to eat?

Khonshu: The souls of the innocent.

Steven: A bagel.

Khonshu: NO!

Steven: Two bagels.

[nappilled]

⋆˙⟡Playing Chicken (And Losing) — Jealous Husband Gojo x Reader ⋆˙⟡

͙͘͡★ Synopsis—Your husband has never, ever been accused of being subtle, though he was unaware of this fact himself and as his wife, you had always tried your best to persuade him to be rational and accommodating to others who weren't at his level. And usually it works. Usually. There are certain instances where your advice for rational words and actions had no affect on him and only he could calm himself down through more... private means.

CW: dom! Gojo, f!reader, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight pregnancy kink, petnames (hubby, love, baby etc.)

A/N—Hello everyone! this is my first fic that i'm posting online! If there's any tags I missed in the CW pls let me know :)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　

Gojo was rarely ever jealous since most sorcerers knew: A) who you were, B) what you meant to him and C) the repercussions of even laying a finger on you- which were nauseating to say the least

But this is the ever-lax Gojo we're talking about here, so of course there are exceptions to this rule; his students being the biggest exception for one, certain co-workers who you were bound to run into on a near-daily basis and Ijichi (his fear of gojo outweighed his interest in becoming friends with you so he doesn't really bother you anyways). Gojo isn't the type to get jealous from you interacting with everyday people.

With that said his tolerance for bullshit is extremely thin, and one of Ijichi's trainees just trampled all over the line.

It was purely coincidental on your end, the newbie had gotten completely lost on their first day and you took it upon yourself to guide them to their destination, you were even kind enough to give them a custard bun you bought that day (it was meant for Gojo but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him).

That's not to say that he doesn't trust you, but he doesn't like how this new auxiliary manager has been cosying up to you lately; it was so clear that they had the hots for you... didn't they know you were the wife of Satoru Gojo?

If gojo's six eyes had the ability to burn holes in people, that manager you're talking to would be a pair of bagels. This asshole just grabbed your hand suddenly while beaming ear to ear, not once noticing that the strongest sorcerer loomed over you, burning with jealousy; he had to have been really cocky or really stupid to not sense the murderous intent that oozed from behind you, out of nowhere the new manager hugs you then runs off in the other direction.

You liked to believe that when it came to you that Gojo could be a reasonable man and as such, you had tried your best to assure him that it was just a silly crush and that nothing would come of it... but unfortunately that wasn't good enough for him. you should have told him right there who you belong to.

"Oh grow up 'toru it's not like he could steal me away from you"

Gojo pouted at your ignorance to the situation at hand it was like you were obviously missing the point. Next time you saw him you had to tell him you were Gojo Satoru's woman.

"Or what? 'You gonna punish me?"

Well yes!

~~

Thick, salty tears rolled down your cheeks as your husband continued to tease your entire body.

Only one finger slowly drawing out of your dribbling pussy… only to be slapped in as hard and fast as you could take, the other hand massaged your tits and teased your perky nipples.

“I’ll ask again pretty girl, what do you want? Say it niiice and clear for me”

“W-wan’ your cock’n only your cock p-please”

You blearily pleaded to him over and over as you began to lose your mind from his idea of simple teasing.

“Please who?” He asked.

“S-satoruuUUUU A-AAHH” you scream out as your head turns to static from pain and pleasure that came from your husband wedging your clit between his middle and index knuckles, then squeezing down it, eliciting a voiceless moan to slip out of your body.

“Wrong answer, love” he purred into your ear as he pinched down on your clit a little harder "try again."

You knew what he wanted you to call him. In any other scenario it would be a flat out no due to how embarrassing the name was, but you poor thing… you were too far gone, stripped bare and a quarter sane, so you began to babble the name over again, mixing it in with the previous pleas from before.

“H-hubby pleeaase f-fuck me hubbyyyy pleaaaaasepleasepleasepleaseplease”

“What a shameless little whore I have for a wife. But since you asked so nicely and cutely for me…”

He roughly and unceremoniously pushes your back away from his chest, your chest and stomach squirm on the cool, glass table beneath you. Your senses are completely shot from being completely blissed out just by a few fingers, you babble and moan as your gushing cunt squeezes and relaxes around nothing. You make the mistake sliding up the table in a feeble attempt at feeling some friction against your painfully hardened nipples and slick-soaked clit. Gojo immediately pulls you back down to your initial position and slaps your pussy. You yell out a twisted amalgamation of a scream and a moan. While you still keen from the sensation, gojo grips the fat of your ass in both hands, spreading them apart to reveal your puffy lips hiding beneath them. keeping your ass spread, he bent down and licked a long, slow stripe up your pussy, you stifle a moan as best you could as he dragged his tongue down from your puffy clit all the way up to your juicy hole, Gojo shifted back slighty and swished something around in his mouth before spitting a thick mixure of his saliva and your slick back into your hole.

"remember baby, don't move okay?"

You were familiar with this punishment, you didn't move an inch while he devoured your sopping cunt, lest you wanted 10 slaps to your ass, you wouldn't have minded if it didn't mean he'd finish there and then, none of his dick and worse yet, no cumming for the rest of the week. and it's not a game you like to play either. the last time that happened you had to call off sick from how horny he had left you, you ended up deep throating him with no movement in his office for 40 minutes to make up for it. never again.

He continued the agonising process of slowly alternating between slurping your juices, licking strips along you and spitting it all back into your pussy hole. With absolutely no stimulation to your clit which was now desperate for some attention.

Your head spun from how tortuously slow it was and worse yet, you couldn't move an inch, unless you wanted an even worse punishment, so you resorted to sitting there and taking the painfully slow pussy eating like a good girl.

That was until Gojo purposefully accidentally nudged his tongue at just the right point on your needy little bud and that small but meaningful push sent you hurdling over the edge; your mouth flew open as you strangled out a moan and your back arched into a perfect crescent.

Something about that particular moan flipped a switch in Gojo, instinctively flipping you on your back for better access to his favourite snack. His mouth instantly latched to your precious pearl with a low groan that sent vibrations from your pussy all the way to your already fuzzy mind. Gojo licked and sucked at you with the fervour of a man starved, poking the tip of his tongue into the crevices at either side of your clit before swirling around the very tip and finally laying flat on it and dragging it slightly as he sucks down harshly, Your mouth agape throughout the whole ordeal. His hands that had an iron grip on the plush underside of your thighs found eventually found their way elsewhere on your spent body, his left found it's way back to your pebbled nipples while his right teased your folds. you moan wantonly from the way the tip of his middle finger dares to plunge into your pussy.

But even in your blissed out state you had enough sense to beg your hubby to not tease you anymore and you communicated this by tugging on the placket of his dusty blue shirt and he understood clearly. He curled his fingers so that it pressed perfectly on that spot that always had your sweet cunt juices flowing like a river- he slammed his fingers in and out of your pussy at an aching pace while his thumb rubbed sweet circles onto your clit until the lips of your pussy fluttered around his fingers.

You came.Hard. You always did. and it was always up to Gojo to carry you to the bedroom to give you your reward that he knows you're desperate for.

Chucking you on the plushy comforter woke you out of your trance just enough to be ready for what came next… he tapped the tip of his cock on your still sensitive bud, causing you to squirm. He grabbed your jaw to force you to look him dead in his deep blue eyes.

“Are you going to be a naughty girl and get nothing? Or are you going to be a good girl and wait for my cock?” He mumbled against the shell of your ear as he towered above you.

"'ll be a gud girl..." drool pouring out the side of your mouth.

"attagirl!" was the last thing he said to you before he thrusted his entire length into you with no warning and hardly any time to adjust, even after 2 years of marriage you just couldn’t get used to how your man would stretch your insides and fill you to the brim, if it weren’t for how wet you were you were sure he’d rip you in half then and there.

Voiceless moans were shoved to the forefront of your throat as he immediately set a relentless pace. After about the tenth or twelfth thrust your voice finally gave way to loud animalistic moans.

"crying for your hubby like you aren't a little fucking whore for everyone?" His words had your pussy fluttering around him, hot tears spilled down your face as you cum on his cock for the second of many times that night, heaving and still babbling nonsense when suddenly you feel a sharp pain split across your right butt cheek. You find yourself being hoisted up by your neck so your ear once again finds Gojo's lips pressed against it, he whispered into the shell of your ear without slowing his brutal pace for even a second.

"Well? aren't you gonna answer me?"

"'m 'nly a whore fr you... 'nly wan' your cock" you slur out.

"yeah? only me pretty girl?"

"only hubby... hah- Only my hubbyy" you were so close to being fucked completely and utterly stupid.

"you'll do anything your hubby tells you to do, right?"

"yes... ahh y-yesh!!! 'nything for hubby"

Gojo wasting no time pulled out of you, flipped you on your back and fucked himself back into you. his large palm firmly pressed on your stomach so that he could feel his own cock slip in and out of you, a twisted smile spread across his face and his eyes glowed and ominous blue.

"so when hubby says he wants to knock you up, you'll let him right?"

You've talked to Gojo about this before (y'know when you're sane and not literally fucked stupid), while gojo was ready to start a family the second he put a ring on your finger, you wanted to enjoy your alone time with your husband (now dubbed 'hubby') before the pitter patter of tiny limitless users came to disrupt it; any other time it would have been a "not yet my love, maybe next time" but you were, again not sane so the next thing that came from your mouth was:

YEEESSS!!! FUCK ME TILL I'M PREGNANT PLEAASSEE!!!

You didn't care anymore, you were completely broken. you cackled to yourself about how badly you wanted him to fuck you forever until you were pregnant 8 times and how badly you needed his seed. you wanted his cum and you wanted it now.

"want hubby to breed you? you want hubby to fuck a baby into you? want him to make your tummy swollen with his child, yeah? you need your tits huge and full of milk because of hubby right?" Gojo was beginning to lose it a little himself with all the talk of getting you pregnant.

"been wanting to do this to ya for so long" he strained drilling into you as deeply as possible and ready to shoot his load into you.

The pressure building up inside you was teetering dangerously on the edge your eyes rolled back into your skull and your tongue hung out of your mouth as if to play dead, but your big strong husband would soon bring you back to life as his palm drifted down to your crotch, he replaced his palm pressing on your stomach with his thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing the bundles of nerves within with such finesse it sent shocks through your whole body.

The pressure became to much and caused you burst back into the land of the living with an arch of your back and a half scream half moan strained from your throat, your pussy gushed all over your hubby's cock and finger you came so much and hard that you couldn't even hear yourself cum.

The tight clasp of your cumming pussy had Gojo coming undone not soon after. thick spurts of hot cum filled you up until that began squirting out of you too.

Gojo didn't move an inch. he was dead serious about getting you pregnant and kept you plugged up for the rest of the night, whether it was fucking his cum back into you, refilling you to replace all of the cum that slipped out or simply cockwarming himself, he wasn't letting you go any time soon. Too tired and ready to sleep? too bad. the man was on a mission, he'd just whisper to you? "tired already? but i'm just getting started" and get right back to it.

It was safe to assume the next time you saw that new auxiliary manager, you'd have to tell him that carried the child of the strongest sorcerer inside you.

Taglist: @miyahsinactive

[apartmentsmoke]

go get 'em, cowboy

an alternate universe meet cute for @bucktommycharityrace - please donate to the ACLU! --- He’d been in LA three months, but Evan already had the routine down. Whenever he didn't have an odd job, the deal was he’d head to the cattle call, get picked as an extra, and then - then, he loaded up at the catering table. Some people were artists. He'd seen a woman fit a whole cheese tray into her purse. Usually he just went for the bagels and stuffed them in his pockets to eat over the sink later. He'd learned that from Connor. Made for easier cleanup. 

He was standing at the table, trying to decide between everything bagels and cinnamon raisin and deliberately ignoring the little voice in his head that sounded like Maddie talking about her nursing school lectures on nutrition. He’d eaten some apple pie yesterday. It totally counted. 

“The everything with the garlic herb schmear is the move,” the woman beside him said, after he’d taken a few more seconds. 

“Uh, thanks,” he said.

“It’s not my first rodeo,” she said, and then, “and not yours either, apparently?” She gestured to his plaid shirt and belt buckle, remnants of his days on the ranch.

“I actually worked on a ranch for a few months. Thought I’d try to look the part.” He looked her up and down; her paisley shirt and bootcut jeans said she’d gotten the memo, too. 

“Cool. I’m Megan. Maybe I can pick your brain a little?”

“Yeah, lemme just grab lunch first,” Evan said. 

As he reached for the everything bagel, it skittered out of his grasp, off the table. Annoyed, he grabbed for a second, but that was gone, too, and then the whole table toppled over. Evan dropped to his knees, trying to present as small a target as possible for any debris. The earth trembled under his feet, threatening to throw him forward. Plates and food fell to the ground. He heard some of them shattering around him. 

“Okay,” he muttered, as the shaking stopped, abruptly as it had started. “First real quake - Megan? Whoa, Megan!” The piece of platter sticking out of her arm was about an inch and half wide. She looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth open, and Evan racked his brain, remembering the flashcards he’d helped Maddie with, the textbooks she’d summarized to him. “Hey, okay. Whatever you do, do not take that out of your arm, okay? I know it hurts, but trust me, okay? Can I see your arm?” Megan’s blood was already soaking through her shirt, seeping out from around the wound. He wrapped his hand around it, fingers pressing in hard, trying to staunch the flow. He looked around at the people still pulling themselves to their feet. “Purple shirt!” he called out to one woman. “Call 911, tell them we’ve got a woman with penetration injury, unknown depth, bleeding pretty bad.” 

He turned back towards Megan. “Hey, you’re doing great. And when you try out for a part on some medical drama, you’ll have real life experience to draw from.” 

Megan snorted. “Yeah, they’ll have me replace Ellen Pompeo.” 

Rather than admit he didn’t know who that was, Evan turned to Purple Shirt Woman. “Any news?” “Josh from 911 says they’ll be here in a few minutes!” 

“Awesome!” Evan flexed his fingers, trying to stay calm even as Megan’s blood had spread to his pinky. “Hear that? Only a couple minutes.” He’s pressing down so hard on Megan’s skin he’s pretty sure he’s going to leave bruises. He forgot that it could be like this: hurting someone to help them, and he wonders how Maddie does it. She’s wincing but encourages him, and he’s got a non-stop river of reassurances, that she’s doing great, it’s only a minute now, she’s gonna get some stitches and be good as new. 

The sirens cut through his words, and they both fixed their gazes on the firefighter headed towards them with a medical bag. He was tall, with an aquiline nose and a cleft chin that belonged on Clark Kent. Evan felt immediately reassured. 

"Hi," the firefighter said, giving Evan and Megan a quick, distracted smile. "I'm Tommy. What’s going on?”

Megan gestures to her arm with her free hand. “Earthquake. Plates.” 

Tommy nodded. “Got it. Okay. You’re doing a good job keeping pressure on the wound and keeping that plate in there so -” He glanced at Evan, then at Megan.

“Megan,” Evan said. “She’s Megan. I’m Evan.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, “good job making sure Megan’s injury doesn’t become any worse. Megan, great job too, don’t freak out on me because I’m going to need Evan to move his hand so I can see what we’re dealing with and then wrap it up.” Gauze in hand, he glanced up at Evan. “On three, okay?” 

“On three,” Evan agreed, and watched as Tommy unwrapped the gauze, his competent, quick fingers distracting enough that Evan almost didn’t hear the three. He jerked his hand away at the last moment, Tommy’s fingers brushing up against his. 

Tommy looked at him for a beat, their eyes locking, and Evan felt a thrill run through his spine as Tommy went back to assessing Megan’s wound. This was way better than standing around in the cattle call lines or working construction. Easily the most excitement he’d had since moving to LA. Evan swiped at a bead of sweat making its way down his cheek, remembering a second too late about his hand. Whatever, he’d clean it off later. 

It only took Tommy a minute to dress Megan’s wound. “Perfect. We’re going to get you to a hospital and they’re going to give you something for the pain and remove that shard from your arm. Maybe they’ll let you keep it as a souvenir.” 

“I think the scar will be enough,” Megan said, and let Tommy help her to her feet, Evan rising with them. “They let me keep the bullet they dug out of me while I was in Iraq. You could make a nice necklace.” At Megan’s small laugh, he smiled, and Evan was transfixed by the lines at the corners of his eyes. Tommy looked like a guy who smiled often. And he’d been in Iraq? Wow. 

Tommy turned towards Evan. “You did good with the pressure. Thanks for the assist.” Then he frowned. “Wait, you’ve got a little something -” and he gestured on his own face, down the line of his insane cheekbone. Evan hadn’t known cheekbones came that prominent. He could grate cheese on it, if he was the kind of person to buy cheese that needed to be grated. He wasn’t but maybe Tommy was. Tommy looked like a guy who bought entire wheels of parmesan. 

“O-oh, I’ll, uh, I’ll clean that up later. Thanks.” He kept pace with Tommy and Megan as they headed for the ambulance.

“Need something else?” Tommy asked him. 

“No, well, yes, uh - how’d you get into the firefighting thing? You were - it was really cool.” 

“Chim, you got a moment?” Tommy called, and Evan watched as another firefighter peeled off from a patient. “This is Megan, she’s stable, took a plate shard to the forearm, secured with Kerlix. Can you let her know the next steps?”

“The stack of favors you owe me is so high it’s threatening to topple over,” Chim the firefighter said, and started talking to Megan while Tommy began rustling through the medical bag. While he was looking, Megan caught Evan’s eye, and mouthed Go get ‘em, cowboy, which Evan didn’t really understand, but he gave her a thumbs-up anyway. Tommy made a cute a-ha noise when he came up with his prize, and presented Evan with one wet wipe. 

“For your hand. And your face.”

“Thanks,” Evan said, ripping at the wet wipe and swiping at his face first, the same path down the cheekbone Tommy had indicated earlier. He went in for his fingers after, making sure to get the webbing in between, and looked up to see Tommy watching him. 

“I wasn’t kidding earlier. You did a great job,” Tommy said. “A lot of people freak.”

Evan shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even while the compliment made his nerves wriggle in delight. “Once you’ve seen enough bar fights, you can deal with it. And my sister’s a nurse.” 

Tommy’s eyebrows arched. “Bar fights, huh?” 

Evan laughed. “I was a bartender down in Peru, not the one getting into bar fights. Uh, usually. Moved here recently, not really sure what I’m doing yet.”

“If you’re looking, the department’s always hiring. I’m filling in today - I’m not usually on medical - but you’ve got a knack for it. Got a phone?” 

Evan fished his phone out of his pocket and Tommy began dictating a number to him. “Text me if you have any questions about applying, okay? Or drop by the station if you have time. 118.” 

Chim called Tommy’s name. “Duty calls,” Tommy said, and nodded at Evan before running off. 

Hours later, lying in bed remembering the adrenaline that had pumped through him, how it had been the first thing that felt really right since he moved to LA, Evan grabbed at his phone. He navigated to the contact for “Tommy Firefighter,” and started typing.  --- thank you for reading - please donate to the ACLU!

[htchnr]

꩜ 01 missed kisses 𑣲 B. POINDEXTER.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, thursdays are your lazy days along with grocery days. Dex's favorite. + he briefly muses what his other favorite times are. author notes at the end. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, stalking ⋆ observing ⋆ canon typical Dex behaviour ⋆ in my hc Dex still occasionally draws ⋆ artist!reader ⋆ broken glass ⋆ briefly mentioned accidental cut. ꜜwc,, 1,9k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

one of Dex's favorite moments are probably mornings; watching the way your feet stick out from under the duvet in a poor attempt to cool down and wake up. watching you lean over to your bedside table-- the way your back slightly arches and the fat of your hips accentuates. peaceful, serene.

his second contender is probably when your full-body care days; when you thoroughly wash your hair, shave your legs and anywhere else where the hair is overstimulating you. he knows you don't shave for other people, but because the prickle of hair is so incredibly annoying to you.

though, that isn't a second contender because he gets to see your bare skin, no. it's because of how relaxed and focused you look. focused on not nicking your skin with the razor, focused on getting every last hair.

though, seeing you fully bare with water cascading down your angelic skin, isn't something he'll ever complain about.

yesterday his brows were mostly pinched in worry and deep care. while following your full routine you had knocked over a jar of some face cream, and yesterday of all days it had finally cracked and shattered.

he watched with knit brows how you tried so hard to step barefoot around all the glass, though failed as you stepped on a small piece. the immediate slow drip of blood was visible even from where he sat, peering out his living room window.

he could tell it hurt, as your face twitched slightly with each hesitant step on that foot. he smoothed a hand down the lower half of his face while he sighed, if he was there you wouldn't have had to move a muscle as he cleaned it all up around you.

he told Ray about it during lunch hour, chuckled with a shake of his head. " yeah, she'll be off her feet all day till it heals a little more. poor thing. though, i don't mind helping around extra. " he smiled as took another bite of his sandwich.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

it's his day off today, as he sits on his couch. his fingers twitch around the pencil as he watches you lounge on the couch. thursdays were lazy days for you.

the pencil scratches against the paper of his sketchbook, tracing the outlines of your curves. you shift, one knee bent as the other drops against the couch. the pretty blue silk pyjama pants draping so heavenly over the curve of your hips at the motion.

he continues to leisurely sketch as he watches you scroll through your phone, the calm rise and fall of your chest.

you sigh dramatically-- a telltale sign of becoming a little bored-- before turning around and laying on your stomach. Dex takes a deep breath, eyes tracing the curve of your back as he starts a new sketch on the page.

his watch quietly beeps, a signal that an hour has passed already. as if on que, you look up at your clock, dragging a hand down your face as you read the time. breakfast time.

he sets his sketchbook aside with a sigh, instead reaching for his mug of cooling coffee as he watches you disappear from your living room and moments later appear in your kitchen.

he sips his coffee with a pleased sigh as you make breakfast-- on thursdays it's always bagels with cream cheese, it's barely any effort-- while swaying a little to whatever song your were playing through your speaker.

he swallows the remainder of his coffee when you finish spreading your bagels, setting them on a plate before heading back to the living room.

you flick the tv on, like clockwork you search for your show and turn on the next episode. you settle into the plush cushions, grabbing your plate from the coffee table and setting it on your lap.

he's quick to turn on his tv, the show already sitting prepared once it's on. he presses play when you do, sitting back to glance back and forth between the show. while it's not something he'd watch on his own, he's found over time that he actually quite likes it-- almost curious about what happens next.

you pause the show before it skips to the next episode, setting down the remote as you stand up with your empty plate. Dex stands up with his empty mug, both making your way to the kitchen.

he smiles as he washes the mug, imagining bumping your hip as you talk about your plans for the day-- binging your show while you catch up on some work in progress art pieces-- before setting the clean and wet dishes in the drying rack and drying off your hands.

you're what got him back into drawing full time again. the heavenly way you look while fully focused on a piece, made him crave that same focus again. he used to sketch occasionally, maybe after a particularly graphic case or mission, but not regularly. now, if he doesn't sketch or scribble at least one thing, he can't end his day.

he watches through the kitchen window how you move over to the room in the back, your art space, and grab your sketch book along with your case full of drawing supplies. you reappear in the kitchen briefly, before moving into the living room again.

he grabs the daily newspaper from the front door before he follows along to his living room and sits down. while you draw, he skims the paper. you both turn the show on again, before turning to do your own things.

it's peaceful like this. so peaceful, he can almost hear the sound of your syrupy giggles as a character in the show does something funny, or the dramatic disappointed groans when they do something stupid. all while keeping your eyes glued to your sketchbook as you work.

after the third episode ends you pause it and get up, stretching your limbs and back. he does the same, setting his paper down on the stack of read ones. you roll your shoulders, standing in front of the open fridge as you decide what to eat for lunch.

he smiles as he knows you'll just sigh and grab leftovers-- the thought of having to put together a proper meal exhausting you. he watches you reheat tuesday's spaghetti, your hip leaning against the counter as you tap away against the surface as you wait. he opts for cooking up some eggs and toast. he keeps it simple and short on thursdays.

after he scoops the eggs from the pan he pauses to watch you open the microwave, knowing the next step. " shit! " he can imagine you hissing, lightly burning your finger tips as you pull the hot bowl out and almost drop it onto the counter. he smiles to himself as he finishes plating his food, though he'd urge you to prevent the pain, he'd kiss your stinging finger tips each time it happened anyway.

lunch passes peacefully and as routine, getting through another three episodes of your show before turning it off. his watch beeps, it's four o'clock. the time you get ready to get groceries.

he's always found it a little odd you get them on thursdays-- not on mondays, the start of the week-- not on the weekends, the end of the week. no, you do them on thursdays.

he'll silently agree with you though, there always seem to be much less people doing their full weekly shopping then. quicker lines, slightly less busy than the next day.

he watches you appear in your bedroom, opening your closet as you debat what to wear. thursdays are for comfortable, easing outfits. loose jeans or sweats, a soft tshirt or sweater on top.

he sucks in a small breath as he watches you pull on his favorite tshirt, pulling on a pair of your 'thursday jeans'-- comfortable, a little baggy and soft looking.

you always scramble around for your necessities-- keys, wallet, headphones-- before going out. he chuckles, when you get to know him he'll help you with that. giving you ways to never leave the house missing one or more.

he shrugs on his jacket and pulls a baseball cap snug over his head, grabbing his keys and a bag before heading out the door.

thursdays are his grocery days too now.

「 authors note,, this will be a shortish series with little moments like these, cause idk. i'm messed up and i like this a little too much 😀. that being said, of anyone has any little ideas for future parts, let me know! 」

𑣲 join the taglist ٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ

[bagelo0]

okay like what is the thesis of this show? imo it’s legacy, but idk how to depict that

could also just do like the iconic lines from the show (my shot, history has its eyes on you, wait for it, etc.)

another idea is just doing ur fav song/lines in the show

what to do what to do for the hamilton 10th anniversary?

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter one

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summary: a well loved and respected bakery owned by none other than ex marine Frank Castle. A new neighbour moves in across the street

Series warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

Word count: 1k (other chapters will be longer)

A/N: I'm so excited to share this brand-new series with you all! It’s a long one so buckle up. I'll be uploading one a week, so if anyone would like to be tagged in future updates, just let me know. Also, this idea comes from a poem I wrote a few years ago (called the baker and the ballerina) and how l've been watching The Punisher. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be a Frank fic or a Michael (the bear) fic, but Frank won so here we are lol. Feedback is always appreciated, thank you :)

The small bakery on 31st street, appropriately named Bakehouse 31, is a warm welcome for many tourists and a familiar face to a lot of the locals. The smell of fresh bread and pastries consume the surrounding area, drawing in anyone who dares to pass it. The people love to buy, and the employees love to sell. And all of this is because of the hard work and effort from one man; Frank Castle. From first impressions, no one would believe this was the man behind the quaint and cosy bakery. Whether it was his big muscles and stern expression, or his tough personality most people can't figure out how to crack, it always comes as a shock to learn he's the one who built Bakehouse 31 from the ground up. But Frank is passionate about what he does, and after leaving the Marines a few years back, he needed the unusual change. Even if there were some people who didn't fully support it.

- - -

"Here's your almond croissant and black coffee. Have a good day."

It's Monday morning and Bakehouse 31 is busy as always, packed with commuters on their way to work and the regular retired customers setting up on their chosen table for the next few hours. Frank is front and centre, handing out the baked goods and holding conversations he would rather not be having. His co-worker and friend, David, chooses not to be as productive. He leans on the counter, instead keeping busy by doing a crossword puzzle in the paper.

"What's another word for a mule?" he asks to anyone listening.

"Jackass," Frank replies, adding extra muffins to the display.

David shakes his head. "No that doesn't fit."

"I wasn't talking about the crossword."

David glares at his friend as some of the customers in ear shot chuckle.

He throws the paper down on the side, moving over to the coffee machine and finally helping with some of the orders.

"You ever think of hiring someone else?" David questions.

Frank looks back at him. "What, to replace you? All the time."

"Wow, you're jack of all trades today. Baker, comedian and asshole," David bites back. "I'm serious though. We're stumped most days, wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of hands around here."

Frank packs a couple bagels and a baguette, handing them to the next customer and telling them to have a good day. He definitely doesn't get tired of saying that.

"We're fine, I can do most of this shit with my eyes closed," Frank responds, grabbing the coffees David made. "And when you actually pay attention, we can breeze through the day no problem."

"Yeah yeah."

The pair continues moving around each other and dealing with orders, the day passing by with no issues. By 2pm, most of the baked goods have been sold, and the only people left in the store is Frank and David, as well as a few regulars who stay until closing time.

The bell above the door rings and an old woman enters.

"Hey Flo," Frank greets her. "Usual?"

"Thanks, extra sugar in the coffee," she replies, Frank nodding already knowing the drill. "So, you boys looking forward to getting new neighbours?"

"What're you talking about?" David asks, his focus back on the crossword puzzle.

"The moving van across the street," Flo sounds surprised, assuming they were aware of what was happening opposite their bakery.

"Someone's bought the abandoned studio."

"Well if they're anything like the last people who owned it," Frank mumbles, thinking back to the drug bust and the obvious smell of marijuana seeping from the building.

David moves from behind the counter and toward the window, trying to get a good look at the people across the street.

Flo waves Frank off. "No no, I just spoke to the person who bought it. Lovely young woman, she's planning on renovating it into a dance studio."

Frank hums, not paying too much attention as he wipes down the counters, hoping to finish earlier than usual. David, however, has lost interest in any work he was doing, continuing to look out the window as the movers unpack the few items from the van. Flo walks over and stands next to him, the pair not being subtle about their nosiness.

David points, smudging the glass with his finger. "Is that her?" Flo nods. "Yeah, that's her. Oh she was absolutely delightful to talk to.”

"And not bad to look at either."

Frank shakes his head at his friend's words. "Oh great, like you need more distractions."

"Nah," David says, turning to briefly look at Frank. "You might though."

Flo giggles and Frank can't help but smile. "Not happening. I have a lot on my plate already," he moves over to David, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pulling him away from the window. "And so do you. I think it's your turn to wash up, right?"

David grumbles like a child, shuffling back behind the counter and pushing the door leading to the kitchen. "Fine, but l'm taking an extra half hour for break tomorrow."

He disappears into the back, leaving Frank to pack everything away in the front. Flo takes her now lukewarm coffee and cinnamon bun, bidding goodbye to Frank and exiting the bakery. He watches her go, his eyes inadvertently drifting to the moving van. The woman isn't anywhere to be seen, most likely dealing with the definite mess left behind in the abandoned lot. Frank goes back to wiping things down, forgetting about the conversation he just had, and the young woman he most likely won't be bumping into anytime soon.

- - -

Taglist: [TBD]

[love-hold]

20 moments to recap AO25

(all singles moments i’m sorry)

1. carlos alcaraz (or rather buzzcutcaraz) debuted his new victorbarber haircut and was tomatoed for lack of a better word, causing his fans to crash out two weeks into the new season.

2. danielle collins made herself an enemy of australia (or at least of the crowd at her R2 match against hometown hero destanee aiava)

3. AO’s YouTube channel premiered AO Animated, a free livestream that cartoon animated RLA matches and captured moments like this.

4. laura siegemund knocked out AO24 finalist zheng qinwen R2, which doesn’t help how much people dislike her already after her match against coco gauff at USO23

5. 18 year old, ATP next gen champion joao fonseca battled through qualifying and knocked out 9th seed andrey rublev R1. for 24H he was praised as the next hot thing, claimed as part of the next big 3 along with alcaraz/sinner (rip holger rune). unfortunately, he was knocked out R2 by lorenzo sonego, teaching an important lesson on how we shouldn’t make these comparisons so hastily because that kind of expectation is anything but beneficial. leave the guy alone! (btw no hate to joao, i’m excited to see his career flourish!)

6. sunflowered naomi osaka—after being handed quite a draw—took revenge on the last two players that kicked her out of 2024’s hard court slams: the c/k-aros, caroline garcia and karolina muchova

7. lucky loser eva lys reached R4 and achieved her career best performance at a grand slam. the craziest part? she was notified 10 mins before her R1 match that she would be playing. i love a fairytale run!

8. 19 year old, next gen ATP finals runner up learner tien beat the 5 set, 2 AM chaos match specialist himself, daniil medvedev. one of the best matches of the tournament, learner kicked out AO24’s finalist in R2 with a dramatic fifth set tiebreak. he continued to rally himself to R4, the youngest player since 2005 nadal to do so.

shoutout to alex michelsen who defeated AO23 finalist stefanos tsitsipas and karen khachanov, and jakub mensik who defeated casper ruud. next gen!

9. jacob fearnley shut nick kyrgios up

10. novak djokovic refused to do the typical on-court post-match interview with jim courier in an act of protect against the comments of channel 9 host tony jones who heckled his fans and called him overrated.

11. oh AO kits. you were pretty underwhelming. nike hit another low—i can’t believe that tank top dress made it to the women’s final. in both colors. but there were positives. once again, coco and naomi: gorgeous. esp naomi’s sunflowers! ON finally changed their gradient colors. purple BOSS shirt! (unfortunately, didn’t see much of it) and i really loved destanee aiava’s story behind her kits. but jannik’s denim custom fox...this is what you give to the world number 1?

12. iga’s bakery opened again, dishing out a scary number of bagels and breadsticks. in fact, while the ATP had its ugly five setters like usual (jack draper playing 3 in a row), countless players from the WTA gave out 6-0’s and 6-1’s this tournament

13. kei nishikori lived up to his reputation as the five set king, defeating thiago monteiro R1 from two-love down

14. janholger delivered the chaos we expected. alpine-boy, sickly victorian child, jannik sinner practically melted on RLA, taking an 11 min MTO. holger then decided to take his own MTO, 5-3 on jannik’s serve. if that wasn’t enough, jannik decided to break the net, delaying the match another 20 mins. also, there was this point.

15. more “surprise players” (draw wise) reached the second week: nastia pavlyuchenkova (QF) belinda bencic (R4), olga danilovic (R4), paula badosa (SF), lorenzo sonego (QF), gael monfils (R4), elina svitolina (QF), ben shelton (SF), and madison keys (more on her later).

ALSO ben became the first active american man to reach the semis of different 2 grand slams.

16. elina and gael were true tennis power couple goals, knocking out #4 seeds jasmine paolini and taylor fritz R3, hours after the other and reaching the second week (shoutout to gael at 38 years old, still delivering entertaining five setters)

17. the projected novak djokovic and carlos alcaraz QF did happen to the joy of most tennis fanatics and to the horror of carlos’ fan base. the end result? carlos’ dream of the career GS slam was crushed once again, and novak’s thigh became equally injured, leading him to retire in his SEMIFINAL MATCH against zverev. he was boo-ed off the court. jfc.

18. world #1 jannik Winner defended his AO title in straights without giving up any break points, extending his match streak to 37-1 from oct. he only dropped two sets: the king of hardcourt, completely untouchable.

19. adding even more humiliation to the loss, zverev’s history of domestic violence (given the fact that said history has been blatantly ignored by the ATP) was publicly called out during his losers speech

20. and last but certainly not least MADISON KEYS DETHRONED 2X DEFENDING CHAMPION ARYNA SABALENKA, FINALLY EARNING HER WELL-DESERVED GRAND SLAM AT 29 (AT THE TOURNAMENT WHERE SHE MADE HER FIRST SLAM SEMI AS A TEEN), BATTLING THROUGH SABALENKA (1) SWIATEK (2) SVITOLINA (28) RYBAKINA (6) COLLINS (11). absolutely insane.

————

I 100% missed many other moments, tag below for your top picks ;)

honorable mentions (that I can think of)

-adm reaching the QFs!

-taylor donating his R1 match earnings to help the LA fires

-keys v swiatek SEMI (including the shadow hitting/serve clock drama)

-novandy

[poisonisweird]

Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-nego-tiable, positivity is cool)

*Crys inside* Dang whys this kinda hard

1.) I like my vocabulary???? (Man idk)

2.) I like my drawings (Sometimes)

3.) I like my....poisivity?

4.) I like myyyyyyy poor cooking skills

5.) I like my.... smooth brain???

Mate im stuggling my mind went blank. Which is sad but yeah

@katiemaycreate, @papileoanddaddydonnie, @chickenclan, @snowbriar, @brain-rot-tmnt, @bagels-and-cream-cheese333, @bootyshakerrr9000, @rottmnt-residuum, @graffixie, @heartstopperniallhoran, @cupcakeslushie, @chicshellshock, @novastar-creations, @leonardotheturtleinblue, @oodles-of-boodle

[writeformesinpie]

Where You Reside

Baekhyun x Fem!Reader 

Summary - You thought you could escape – you were wrong. Baekhyun can find you no matter where you run, and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is glad he does. 

Genre - Yandere 

Warnings - Suggestive, yandere content, manipulation, toxic relationship

Word Count - 1K

A/N - This is part of the 2k follower event from this request. I hope you like it! It was super fun to write! Thanks for the request! Sorry it's so late haha <3

The crunch of cheap plastic in your hand alerts you to the desperate grip you have on your phone the moment you hear his voice. You want to drop the device, to stomp it into a million tiny pieces and run from this place, but you’re frozen in place. How could you be so stupid?

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” he asks, drawing out the sound longer than necessary, his voice curt.

An icy shiver runs through your body regardless of the heat. Reaching out for the large tumbler on the small table you instead swat at the beverage and it topples over, its contents spilling from the white surface down to the concrete at your feet.

“Careful. You don’t want to sully your new dress.”

New dress? Twisting your neck back and forth you look at the people sitting outside the cafe. To your left sits a couple deep in conversation, next to them is a woman and a small dog who’s eating more of her blueberry bagel than she is, on your left sits an elderly man reading a paper. The sun belts down as you try to scan further out, the crowd of people rushing in every direction. In the middle of the city it’s hard to see every possible hiding place. Not that he’s hiding.

No, hiding isn’t really Baekhyun’s style, is it?

“Why?”

“Why what, baby?” Smooth as silk. “Use your words.”

Turning back to the table you smile and apologise to the waitress as she shoos away your feeble attempts to help her clean up the mess you made. Grabbing your purse you pull out a twenty and place it on the table, shaking your head when she suggests change. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you. You know you can’t live without me. How long do you plan to keep up this little facade?”

“I don’t need you,” you whisper, venom dripping from your lips as you step in turn with the rest of the crowd heading west. The pace is quick and although you know it's futile you hope that he’ll lose you in the horde.

“You know I love the chase.” His voice has a lilt to it, and the familiar sound of a bustling crowd audible on his end. He’s in pursuit. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.”

Looking over your shoulder you don’t see him. Ducking and weaving through the crowd you make your way across the street and take a chance to escape into an alleyway. “Why does it have to be me?”

“What a stupid question,” he says, the sound of the crowd still bubbling on his end of the phone. Then you see him. He’s in the crowd ahead of you, his focus locked onto the heads in front of him. Ducking behind a dumpster you watch as he passes. Relief tingles across your skin as you slide down the wall, a small smile on your lips.

“Why’s that?”

You asked the words but have no intention to listen to the answer. Instead you drop the phone from your ear and close your eyes, taking in a deep breath of air. You’re still free.

“Because you belong to me.”

The whispered words have your skin crawling as your eyes snap open. Your phone is no longer on the ground – it’s swinging leisurely from side to side next to your shoulder. Lips brush up against your neck as an arm curls around your waist, lifting you off the cold ground. Your back melts against his chest as his grip tightens, his way of letting you know he’s caught you.

Right when you think he plans to curl around you like a boa and squeeze the life out of you he loosens his grip. His lips trail across your skin, the warmth of his breath matching the warmth of his hands as they explore your body, rigid at first, as if an inspection. Once he’s satisfied it changes, turning instead to petal-like touches as he kisses his way up your jaw.

“Did you really think you could leave me?” he whispers the words against your neck, pressure increasing with each kiss. His hands snake under your clothes, one sliding up your skirt while the other dips under your shirt. “Did you?”

“It was stupid to leave,” you say, leaning back against him, your body quick to betray you. Your body always has a way of betraying you when Baekyun’s around.

“Why is my baby so stupid?” he chuckles right before he nibbles on your ear, compelling you to arch your back as you lean towards his touch. “It’s so obvious you would die without me. Without my touch. Without my love.”

He’s wrong. Or is he? You can’t think straight when he’s this close.

No, you don’t need him. You can survive without him. In fact you have been doing just that. You got away from him for almost three months and you have been just fine on your own. It’s not that you need him, you don’t, you want him.

What he thinks of as love, you know for what it truly is. Carnal desire. Animalistic lust. This isn’t love. If it was, it wouldn't be so hard to walk away.

Tears stream down your face as you realise he’ll never let you go and even if he did, you’d never truly get away. Deep down it’s something you’ve always known.

Your hand reaches around to circle the back of his head, to bring him closer. This is where you belong. He asks, “Did my baby miss me?” to which you nod and close your eyes, letting his hungry fingers dance along your skin. Grinding your arse up against his hips you can feel his hard cock through the material of his jeans and it sends sparks racing across your body from within your core. This is where he resides, deep inside, the other side of your coin.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you,” he says as he brushes his fingers against your clit. He digs his teeth into your neck as if to punctuate the point, eliciting a guttural moan from your lips. “If I don’t punish you now, what’s to stop you from trying to leave again?”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

[redgoldsparks]

I went all out for Hourly Comics Day 2025! These took between 6-7 hours to draw across three days, and then another at least hour to scan and edit which I wasn't in the mood to do which is why they are a week late lol. Had a wonderful time at Lumacon though and I'm glad I was able to document it! Transcript below the cut :)

insta / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my books / print store / bluesky

Page 1

7:50am: Alarm goes off

Morning phone: check eSIMs, insta, discord, Spanish vocab 

El tiene pelo largo 

Jonathan Van Ness, is that you…?

Drops App 

8am: My friends gave me a delicious new black tea that’s very easy to over steep 

3 minutes seemed too long, but 2:30 was a bit weak… I’ll try 2:45… 

Honestly, I prefer a tea where I can leave the bag in the whole time I drink the cup… 

For the first time in many years I’m actually doing something cool on hourly comics day! Today is Lumacon! This is the show’s 11th year- I think I’ve only missed 1. For the first time, it’s raining on con day!

Page 2

I’m so glad we had another avocado!

This bagel was so chunky I cut it into perfect thirds. Perfection

It’s so rare that I’m awake before my parents… SIP

Should I write about Larrupin sauce? My friend Alina buys this for me up in Humboldt since it’s hard to find… 

Every object/moment suggests a story when I’m paying attention! 

8 to 9am

Page 3 

Pick up Martina! Very cute raincoat (@martinamonster-art )

Chatting and Ateez on the drive 9 to 9:30

OMG why am I drawing cars :( 

LUMACON! 10-11AM 

My newest zine is a recruitment zine for Authors Against Book Bans (AABB). 

I zero in on folks I know to be authors–

Maia: I want you– 

Author: Me? 

Maia: To join AABB! (info zine)

Author: Oh thanks! I will! 

Maia: This zine is so fun to hand out!

Page 4 

Teen: Thank you so much for writing Gender Queen. I gave it to my mom and she credits it for a lot of her understanding. I came out as gender queer a year ago and she said “I love you.” I don’t know if that would have been possible without the book! 

Maia: Thank you for saying that! 

Different teen: I want to buy a copy of your book but I need to make more sales first. 

Maia: Where’s your table? 

Teen: Behind you 

Look. 

I spot some of the cutest round crochet bois I’ve ever seen including a nonbinary bee

Maia: Can I please trade you a book for that bee?! 

Teen: OMG yes! 

You know it’s a good trade when both parties think they got the better deal! 

12pm 

Page 5

I check in with Anna (@thebeanbaguette) 1pm 

Maia: How’s the con so far? 

Anna: Really good! I love how many furries are here! 

Maia: Oh yeah it’s fun

Maia: I had never seen the skull fursuit head before this show… for the size event it’s impressive furry turn out 

Cute goth/pastel couple 

Anna: To be honest, I’d love to get a fursuit head one day… and the hands! 

Anna: But I don’t know what animal…

(Table is covered in cute rats)

Later, another friend comments 

Cynthia: So many furries here! 

Maia: Yes, the per capita is very high… sign of a healthy ecosystem! 

(we all wore masks all day I just forgot to draw them) 

Page 6 

My friend Nic comes to visit & cover my table during my lunch break- 2pm

Nic: Don’t worry I’ll do my best impersonation of you! I’ll even sign books with your name!

Maia: Okay, great, thanks!

Maia: (Has not had water, snack or bathroom break in 6 hours)

Later we chat with Gio, another friend about knowing when a story is done

Maia: I had a publisher reject a pitch basically saying “this isn’t fully baked yet” which… was true. 

Nic: Unfortunately I’m doing that to myself! I’m on the 4th draft of this short story that just needs to be done. 

Gio: But when it’s a personal project how do you know? 

Gio: When it’s my own work, no deadline, no editor, it’s tempting to just keep putting it back in the oven. But at what point are you like, I’m making crackers. I thought it was bread but it turned into crackers! 

Page 7

3-4pm last hour of the con

My parents came! My Taekwondo teacher came! A trans teen who came to my first Gender Queer event in 2019 came! I saw so many friends & my heart is full! Thank you Luma! 

4:30

Maia: I think I’m ready to go…

Table: EMPTY

Martina: Me too! 

Maia & Martina: LOOK 

Anna- nothing packed, stuff fully out

Anna: Haha, you go! I pack slowly! 

In the parking lot & rain 

Maia: I’m really glad you came! 

Martina: Thanks for talking me into it! 

Martina: You’ve been manifesting this since September! 

Maia: Haha yes, 

(I talked both Martina & Anna into applying for this show; Martina’s first zinefest table! 

Page 8

5pm I drive home 

after all the rain, the ditches & fields are flooded 

Maia (texting): I just got home

Anna (texting): I haven’t left the venue yet

Page 9

6pm I should be unpacking but I’m lying in bed looking at my phone! 

Maia: Wow so many hourlies! I haven’t even started! I’d rather read them on tumblr & patreon later. How is my finch doing? 

Nic incepted our entire friend group into the finch app back in January. I’m pretty hooked. In the finch app you make a little bird persona who travels the world & gains experiences. You give it energy & earn points by crossing items off your to do list & completing self care tasks like stretching or drinking water. 

Maia: To be honest, I don’t really need an app to help me do tasks. But look how cute my bird is!!! Also! You can get pets for your bird! I have five! Owl, seal, caribou, ball of fluff, cow

Later, I pet my real cat. 

Maia: Don’t worry you are my actual favorite pet. 

Page 10 

7pm: Dinner with my parents. Big salad, fried tofu. We talk about clay deposits in odd places. 

My dad: There’s that Bentonite clay at Shell Beach! That’s the kind you want for poison oak rashes. 

My mom: And the deposit at school by the office, some teachers have kids use that for crafts. 

8pm: Formatting my January book reviews

I really like the monthly wrap-ups that Storygraph generates. 

Books: 11 Pages: 2855 Average Rating: 3.91

LGBTQIA: 5 Fantasy: 4 Comic: 4 Contemporary: 3 Romance: 3

9pm: I fall into the trap of looking at the news which I’ve avoided all day. Escape to tumblr where I discover some amazing Ranma ½ fanart. Should I reread it? 

10-12am: I draw the first 4 pages of these comics then go to bed! 

In total, drawing these takes 6 or 7 hours across 3 days. -Maia Kobabe 2025 

[brattyspence]

So...brattyspences Cafe event...

I'm thinking everything bagel with these two lines of dialogue (you can pick who says what.) "I think someday you'll hate me. You'll cut me open and find a garden of rot where my heart should be." "When I cut you open, all I'll find is that we match." Oooh! And toasted please! I want angsty angst! - 🦝 (claiming the racoon emoji because irl inside joke with my friends)

order #5 | see my event here

a/n: thank u raccoon anon!! come back real soon pls

tags: angst, unofficial relationship, protective Spencer, emotional wreck reader, reader needs therapy, me too, comfort

Things have always been complicated between you and Spencer. Maybe it's the famous line, ‘right person, wrong time’-- or at least that's what you believe.

He’s good. There's not a thing wrong with him. He’s gentle with you. He's not pushy. He looks out for you when things are hard. But somehow, you can't seem to accept his presence, and he can't understand why.

The team has already filed out for the night. Manila folders are put away, bags are packed, lights are tuned off. From his desk, Spencer can see that the round table is still lit, door open, and you're still occupying the space.

You've been different recently. Withdrawn, moody, uninterested in socializing. He knows that you need space, but he can't ever help himself from trying to get you to open up.

Your blank gaze at the empty table in front of you breaks when you hear footsteps in the doorway. You don't need to look up to know who it is, or what he wants.

“You heading out?” You ask. You inhale to a weighted sigh, and run your hands over your head as you collect your thoughts.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Just came to check on you.”

“I’m leaving too.” You push yourself away from the table, and draw your jacket off the back of the chair. After tugging it over your shoulders, he’s still there, waiting.

“Rough case…” he starts.

“Spencer,” you huff. “We don't need to do this. You're tired. I'm tired. Let's just go home.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he replies. It's false, and you both know that. “Just checking on you.”

“You don't have to.”

He knows this all too well. Your immediate defensiveness when he’s hit the nail on the head. You let your fierce independence get in the way of accepting help, and it goes on too long. You’ll burn out soon and retreat back into your own world.

“But I do.”

“You don’t,” you reply. Your tone bites. “Just let it go.”

As soon as you make the first step towards the door, he's already ahead of you, blocking the doorway. Even his arms crossed, you only find worry where upset should be.

“Spencer. Please,” you huff.

“No,” he shakes his head. “No please. This has gone on long enough. Talk.”

“About what?” You say. It borders on whining.

“Whatever this is. You're not you recently. You're worrying everyone.”

“It's none of your business, Spencer–”

“But it is,” he insists. “I don't understand why you can't let anyone in. Especially me.”

You try to put on your brave face for him, staring back up at him with your eyes narrowed. It doesn't work for long. He can see the way your bottom lip begins to tremble ever so slightly, and in some sick way he’s relieved.

“I just want to go home,” you reply. “Please, can you just please drop it?”

When there’s no give in his persistence, you can't help from letting your walls crumble. You try–fingertips pressed to eyes, breathing deeply–to pull yourself out of the spiral. You don't fight back when you feel him pull you closer, even though you really want to.

Minutes pass like this, the air still and room quiet. You’re trying to figure out how to get out of this without leaving him worried, but your thoughts are too crowded by the weight of the day and the thousands of other things on your mind.

He waits to press further until you're calm, or at least more than you were before.

“Why are you so adamant about pushing me away?” He asks.

You’re not sure there are enough words in the English language to warn him about why involving himself with you is a bad idea. He’s already seen enough of you that he should get it by now. You're cold. You shut people out. You struggle to process things that everyone else seems to do with no issue. You're a lot.

“I think someday you’ll hate me,” you mumble. “You’ll cut me open and find a garden of rot where my heart should be.”

“When I cut you open, all I'll find is that we match.”