#i might add colors but I wanted to get it done in time ^^

[spenceragnewfics]

A LOVELY LITTLE PARTY | Spencer Agnew x F!Plus Size!Reader

This was a request, but I was stupid and accidentally deleted the ask, so here we go!

Summary: At your best friend’s glamorous summer garden party, you weren’t expecting to meet anyone, especially not Spencer, the charming and down-to-earth gaming channel director. What starts as small talk might just spark something more.

Word count: 1013

Summer has always been a favorite season for you.

You loved the heat, being able to go swimming whenever you wanted, and dressing up in the pretty sundresses you accumulated over the year. There is also always one event that kicks off the summer, your best friend’s annual garden party. Perks of marrying some rich Hollywood producer, but you’re not complaining.

When you arrive, the party is in full swing. You are dressed in a white and floral sundress, and your hair has a bow that matches the floral color. The backyard of your friend’s extravagant villa is full of people, and it grows every year with more people being invited because of her husband’s work and the people she meets.

“Ah! Finally, you’re here!” Your best friend says, quickly walking over with her arms open wide. You two embrace for the first time in months, both of you being busy with life, to hang out more than a FaceTime call every few weeks. “Look at you! I love this dress! You have to tell me where you got it.”

The two of you chit-chat for a few minutes before her husband walks over, a shorter man following behind him, looking very out of place at a party like this. “Honey, there you are.” Her husband says, his voice filled with love as he gently kisses her. Once they break apart, he smiles at you and says your name, “It’s been a while. How have you been?” he asks, pulling your best friend close to him with a protective hand on her hip.

You give him a warm smile. “I’ve been good. Busy, but good. This party gets more insane every year.”

He chuckles. “Blame her. She makes it look too perfect, so everyone wants an invite.” Then, with a small gesture toward the man beside him, he adds, “Speaking of which, I wanted to introduce you to someone, this is Spencer.”

Spencer is dressed in a casual button-down and slacks; his curly hair is somewhat tamed and styled, but the heat probably messed it up. His eyes meet yours and linger, just a moment longer than polite. “Hey,” he says, giving you a slightly shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You return the smile, heart doing an unexpected little flutter. “Hi.” You say, not being able to stop smiling.

Your best friend nudges him. “Spencer works in digital comedy. He’s one of the good ones. Funny, smart, too humble for his own good.”

He laughs—really laughs—and it lights up his whole face. “Guilty. I'm a behind-the-scenes guy, so this kind of thing always feels like I snuck into a place I don’t belong.”

“He works with Smosh, remember the channel we used to watch all the time in high school? He’s their head of their gaming channel,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows a bit.

“He’s done amazing work with growing the channel and viewership, from a professional standpoint.” Her husband says as things start to connect. Spencer must be here for a work thing, and you just happen to reap the benefits from it.

“Oh wow, that’s actually really cool,” you say, eyes flicking back to Spencer. “I haven’t watched as much recently, but I used to binge the Smosh Games videos.”

Spencer laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, same. Except I was editing them back then when you were probably watching.”

You laugh with him, relaxing more. Something is refreshing about him, low-key, self-deprecating, genuine.

“Anyway,” your best friend’s husband says, glancing between the two of you with a not-so-subtle smirk, “I’ve gotta go talk to someone about a project. I’ll let you guys get better acquainted.”

Your best friend doesn’t even pretend not to be matchmaking as she squeezes your arm before being led away. “Be nice,” she whispers with a wink, then disappears into the crowd.

You turn back to Spencer, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The music floats softly through the garden, and the breeze carries the scent of jasmine and grilled pineapple skewers.

“So…” you begin, “what’s got you at a fancy producer party?”

He shrugs, “his company is looking into investing in some digital media, and so with Smosh being what it is, we’re top of the list. All the different heads of the channels were invited.”

You both glance over at the shimmering pool across the patio, surrounded by floating floral centerpieces and people holding cocktails.

“Well, at least you get fancy food.”

“Yeah,” He pauses, looking at you more fully now. “I just have to say, you look beautiful. Honestly my eye caught you the moment you walked in.”

You blink, caught off guard as your cheeks burn. “What do you mean?”

He gestures vaguely, his hand trailing through the warm air. “The dress, the bow, the way you just… fit here. I mean, not to come off as too forward but your curves look amazing in that dress.”

Your face flushes, and you let out a soft laugh. “That’s very smooth for someone who claimed to be behind the scenes.”

Spencer smiles, a little sheepishly. “That was smoother than I meant it to be, but… not wrong.”

A breeze picks up, and your skirt flutters around your knees. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling something settle between you, a quiet curiosity, a spark.

“Well,” you say, biting your lip, “what are your plans now? Go back to your co-workers?”

“I was thinking I’d start with finding a plate of whatever smells that good,” he says, nodding toward the catering table. “And, if I’m lucky, someone to sit with.”

You grin. “Lead the way, then.”

As the two of you walk side by side through the crowd, laughter and music all around, Spencer glances over at you again, like he’s still a little surprised you’re really there.

You glance back. A smile on your face that never leaves as long as you're at the party with Spencer. Hoping that maybe you’ll be able to extend this into a date or two sometime later.

[theaskscenter]

how do you reason with a parent who is so illogical.. my dad believes in youtube prophets and fortune tellers and it's so hard to argue with him. It's too hard to get through to him. For example i wanted to go on a trip with my friends abroad for a week, he keeps denying me just because the prophets said there may be a war in South America and natural disasters and Boeing crashes, i try to work around it by showing him that none of the prophets directly mention the country we want to go to, but he keeps finding loopholes and other reasons. He does this over everything and it frustrates my family so much, we can never win arguments or live around him. how do i deal

Sorry I actually laughed omg. I want to take this seriously so much but I just can't.

I'd 'employ' my own fortune teller and have them combine some of the 'prophecies' he believes in and then add what I want, and while doing it debunk some of those 'prophecies' that he believed in in the past that didn't happen in an 'they are not always right but this one is'. Like if I was plotting on some one and he was really into that stuff so I'd pay a Chinese lady to put up a fortune telling stand and feed them information that's already true about that person that's 'niche' and then have her confirm what he believes in already and then slip in what I want him to hear and then some more truths to follow. You can't change a person and resistance will never work so I'd just follow them to where they are and find a way to make that work for me. Adaptation, people. SURVIVAL for the what? Exactly. The fittest. ADAPT.

Meeting people where they are >> Trying to bring them to where you are.

THIS, in fact, is the DNA of feminine energy. The feminine FLOWS.

But it has to be gradual. Not overnight. Watch it with him and say no you were right about this one time omg. Hey lets go get our feng shui done? Just to cleanse energy. Read them with him and read your furtune cookies at the take out. Start having that 'vibe'. It takes biologically i think 38 days approx to constantly do something to make it convincing, so just little bits (bring your mom into it if you can'. Ask him what that prophet says tyou should ahve for dinner. Which color is auspicious to wear? Great. Actually I found this website that I can check my predictions let's try it let's see yesterday's predictions. OMG they're true? That's crazy/ Slowly isolate him from that one 'prophet' he likes and bring him to another but 'with' him. Then say dad I'm going to this Yoga Retreat (and book it) with this healer to South America but because Boeing might be unlucky I'll try for another plane and travel at an auspicious time and tie these protective charms so please pay :). Then go be wild.

NEVER in the history of humanity has isolating someone in beliefs changed them. In fact it has ALWAYS in the history of humanity done the exact opposite eg. Hitler

[caramelldraws]

A girl dreaming of marriage and children

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[valiasims]

Wisteria Whisk - Part 2

Hey everyone!

The second part of the Wisteria Whisk collection is here! This time, I wanted to add lots of decorative food to help fill up your bakeries. I made new shelves which can showcase all basket and tray pastries I made for this set. As I mentioned in an earlier WIP post, I tweaked the wood colors a bit, so I also went back and updated the previous set with the new shades. If you want everything to match nicely, please redownload the first set!

Some additional information: The tray holder has slots that fit the tray items perfectly! It might be a bit tricky to find the exact placement, but the slots are in the center of each layer, so aim for that.

The baskets of baked goods and tray of sweets have multiple mesh variations, so changing the swatch will not only change the color but also the object itself. This way they don't take up too much catalog space.

The shelves include rotated slots, which I had to set as fixed so if you place there an item it stays rotated. If you want to reset the rotation of a slotted item, just place it somewhere else first, then it will return to its default straight position.

I hope you’ll enjoy this set as much as I enjoyed making it, though I have to admit, working on all these food items made me very hungry during texturing. :D

As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be starting the third part of the collection a little later, since I’ll be walking the Camino de Santiago next week. So there won’t be any WIPs during that time but once I’m back, I’ll jump into working on the next (and probably final) part of the bakery set. Though who knows, that might still change depending on how I feel.

For the next part, I’m planning to add kitchen items and a coffee bar that matches the other display pieces. I’m really excited to get started on it!

Let me know what you think of this set or if you run into any issues! I was so frustrated today, was almost done when I spotted a small problem and ended up spending hours fixing it. So I really hope everything works smoothly now!

Lastly thank you so much for reaching 20 000 followers on Patreon! I'm so thankful for all of you!

The Set Includes

Display Shelves (2 sizes)

Basket of Baked Goods 1 (bagels, 2 types of buns)

Basket of Baked Goods 2 (pretzels, croissants, breads)

Big Basket of Baguettes

Tray Holder Trolley

Tray Sweets 1 (cream puffs, eclairs, empty tray)

Tray Sweets 2 (croissants, pastries, empty tray)

Menu Board (2 sizes)

Wall Basket Baguettes

Wall Basket Buns

New York Rolls

Pretzel Stand

Wall Tiles

Wall Tiles and Paint

-DOWNLOAD HERE- Public release on the 17th of May 6PM CET

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

Taglist:

@strwberryglass @lilithquillete @delias-stuff @bellatrixmld @damainwayneisthebestrobin @kittzu @lilyalone @yokesmam @sanjisluvbot @facelessisnthere @dollwhite @superstarbucks

@angelunatic @littledollete @cutelittlesugarfairy @darbystrange @sxftiebee @zealous0mouse @trashlanternfish360 @galaxygirlsblog @euphoria-looney @1simpchunkygirl @a-lurking-fae @analuixxy @naturallyspontaneous @horror-lover-69 @pastel-mouse @ladyrosemone @frankie-moon3 @catley1011 @justannie18 @yandereaficionado @ithoughtthinks @asdfghjklgayblog @shadowyknightbeargoth @peche4et3chocolat @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @iamabeaner @rosesunderthegarden @nommingonfood @ninihrtss @type-ink @iamabeaner @astterrial @awawage @ironsaladwitch @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @rosesunderthegarden @raging-stars @sulleha @s1mppp

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[angel-z-xdx]

soap x reader

needy soap / breeding kink inspo from @soapysoapysoapysoapy

“Think I’m gonna die,” Soap muttered from the floor, arms flung out

“I think my balls are about to explode,” Soap groaned, collapsing onto the floor like a fallen warrior, one massive hand dragging over his face in frustration. “This is a medical emergency. I need relief.”

At first, everyone ignored him. Typical Soap — huge, intimidating, and apparently constantly horny. He’d been whining about it for weeks. After every mission, every briefing, somehow his thoughts circled back to his aching body like it was some kind of personal crisis.

You’d rolled your eyes so many times it felt like a reflex. But when he started describing the color, the shape, and even the emotional texture of his cum — “like very sad yogurt” — someth

like he was waiting for a chalk outline. “This is medical. I’m not even being dramatic this time.”

You didn’t even look up from your report. “You say that every time we come back from an op.”

“Aye, but this time it’s real. I’ve got… pressure. A build-up. It’s like a ticking bomb in my bollocks.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m a hazard, lass. A walking threat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want me to add ‘blue balls’ to your file under injuries sustained?”

“Serious question—if a man hasn’t come in three weeks, does he legally qualify for disability?” His voice dropped into a pained, breathy whine. “I need to put it somewhere. It’s not even horny anymore. It’s primal. Instinctual. If I don’t get it out soon, I might start humping the wall like a bloody terrier.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you with that dangerous smirk, “you’re still here. Still listening.”

That part was true. Against your better judgment, you were still here. Still listening. Still thinking, God, if he keeps talking like that, I might actually let him.

Something in your face must’ve slipped, because Soap’s smirk deepened.

“Oh?” he drawled, voice low now — a little too low. “You thinking about it? Bet I could split you in half, bonnie. You want that, yeah?”

Your breath caught.

He stood, slow and deliberate, towering a little too close. “Want me to fill you up so good you can’t walk straight? Pin you down and make you forget your own name?”

He waited just long enough for you to stammer something — maybe a protest, maybe a challenge — before he had you backed against the wall, large hands gripping your thighs and hoisting you like you weighed nothing.

“You’re lucky,” he growled against your neck, breath hot. “I’m a generous man. And I’m done being patient.”

You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on yours — biting, consuming, owning. Everything about him was heat and pressure and pure, restrained power.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to.

He took his time getting you open for him, whispering filth the whole way through — how tight you were, how much he’d thought about this, how he was going to make you take it.

By the time he finally rolled his hips in and filled you to the brim, your head was already spinning.

“You feel that?” he rasped, one hand at your throat now, firm but careful — just enough pressure to make your eyes flutter. “That’s mine now. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

And he did.

Every thrust was sharp, unrelenting, punctuated by dark promises. “Gonna breed you so full they’ll see it in your walk. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Filthy little thing.”

Your nails left marks. Your moans turned to cries. He didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down when you clenched around him, begging for a break.

“Nah, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice gravel-rough. “You started this. And I’m not stopping until I’ve filled you proper.”

[chow0w]

oh i just LOVE your style!!!! if you wouldn't mind, could you explain how you go about designing and what your artistic process is with dragons specifically?? I love your lady jewel design the most!!!!!!

Of course, and thank you so much! @aldershadows also asked this question, and I hope I can give you a comprehensive answer, and will be taking this oppurtunity to create a one-and-done design tutorial to answer any similar questions that may come up in the future.

Bear in mind that I'm not a professional, and I'm not looking to dissuade people from following traditional techniques or other advice. This is purely a discussion of MY process, and what I consider to be good/bad design technique.

Where to Start

There are six important conceptual 'principles' I like to consider when in the initial stages of (Re)designing a character: Story, Personality, Aesthetic, Interpretation, and canon/fanon appearance. Fully understanding these principals can help you understand a character, which will make both your life and design better.

Story: What is this character's actual story? What's their lore? Where do they start, and where do they end up - and most importantly, where does your design fit into that timeline? When I design characters, I try to be clear on exactly what part of their journey they are on. (Ex: blaze and the coat -> sandwing succession war)

Personality: This one is pretty easy - what is your character like, and how do they present themselves to the outside world? When you make a character and show them to the world, everything in the canvas is interpreted by the audience: even down to simple details like posture or background. Treat it like an opportunity to show off as much of your character's personality as you can.

Aesthetic: Aesthetic plays the most important role of all: it's job is to make sure your design is cohesive. It can be a common theme, pattern, color pallet or shape - as long as it reoccurs throughout a design, it's good. Use aesthetics to amplify the other principals, and figure out how to make it *look* nice as a secondary goal.

Interpretation: This one is specific to redesigns, but could also be applied to OCs - I like to consider my personal interpretation of a character: the media I see, the opinion I have... Multi-animator projects, other fanart pieces and personal quirks make up my interpretation of most WoF characters. You don't always need to incorporate your interpretation, but it's good to have in mind.

Canon/Fanon appearances: If you want to design and OC, ignore this. If you're redesigning an existing character, it's useful to consider how your audience views them - for example, most of us collectively agree on a few key design aspects of most characters. That doesn't mean you have to follow those conventions, but keep in mind that they may make your character more or less recognizable. You can also call on the other principles of design to make up for any leap-of-faith redesign choices you make.

Narrow It Down

Now that you're thinking, it's time to narrow those ideas down! Be aware that sometimes, less is more: you might have a ton of cool concepts, but your design will look BAD if you can't stay cohesive. The number of different ideas that can co-exist in one design varies a lot by preference and similarity, so be evaluative when doing this. If you follow my blog, you might notice I tend to walk the line between detailed, cohesive design and overwhelming animator repellent. To combat this, I try to step back often and consider if I've gone too far.

At this stage, it's good to make notes or small sketches - anything to get your ideas down.

Experiment

Test your ideas out with more sketches - alter, add, subtract... whatever your heart desires. Experimentation is the best way to discover your specific design tendencies, as well as breaking new ground and stepping out of your comfort zone. The more you experiment, the quicker you'll improve. This is usually the point where I start testing out different patterns, since those are the main highlight of most of my redesigns. Pertaining to dragons, it's always a good idea to test out different shapes - especially wings, spikes, arms and tails, which are generally the most customizable features of a character. Looking to other artists for advice/inspiration is also a great tactic, but be sure to follow the 80/20 rule of originality within your designs!

Judge yourself (not literally)

Evaluating your designs as you make them is always a great idea, but sometimes you need multiple tests/sketches in order to know what you REALLY want. Compare your experiments - what do you like about them? What do you dislike? Which are more faithful to the character, and which ones confuse you? understanding the flaws in your design can help you to overcome even the biggest challenges.

I've used Kinkajou to show how important evaluation is: despite being my favorite character, she has proved exceedingly hard to redesign (to my satisfaction,) even with multiple attempts from this year and the last. She might not even be released by the time this post airs - but with the power of critical thinking and good evaluation, her design has gradually improved over my last few attempts.

Stay on your toes

Did you think you were done? Did you think it was over? NO. Life doesn't get easier just because you made it past the idea stage. When you have your final thoughts and want to get chugging with your reference page/illustration, make sure to stay alert! Keep evaluating, keep experimenting, and make sure to stay mindful of what you do! One of the more common issues I have is that I turn my brain off while I draw, and then slowly my designs drift further and further away from the idea I actually wanted to put down. Asking yourself questions along the way can help to sharpen your design, and train your mind to think more artistically.

It's always good to take a once-over of your final product: check for errors you might have made, and think about whether or not your design still looks good. Does it show personality? Is it consistent?

If you do find that your end product isn't what you really imagined, don't despair - there are plenty of lazy tricks you (And I) can pull to string things back together again. Using gradient maps is a great way to fix your colors, and simple filters like 'overlay' (procreate) can help to neutralize your pallet. My favorite trick is to use the 'curves' tool (procreate) to make certain colors darker, in the case that I feel my design doesn't use a wide enough range of light and dark shades. I also like to turn saturation down if I think there's a color problem, to see if it's actually my pallet or if I'm using too many colors with the same tone.

Keep Going

My design strategy relies on confidence. You won't be able to improve if you doubt that you can! So, my most important piece of advice is to keep going, no matter how fast or slow you seem to make progress. My second most important piece of advice is not to compare yourself to other artists - focusing on their progress is neglecting your own.

To everyone who made it this far, thank you so much! Posting here truly is an amazing experience and I adore you guys. Sorry if this got a little out of hand. I hope this was helpful to you and anyone else with the same question, as well as being a useful resource to other artists in the future! As always, my askbox is open to any and all questions + requests for redesigns!

( ´ ω ` )ノﾞ

[mikawa13]

Every time I look at fanarts of TID I have to take a deep breath because some of the clothes aren't completely period accurate, so I wanted to try to draw them with more accurate dresses.

Charlotte did not take as long as I expected, probably because I always imagined her style in a more simple and elegant style.

I used Cassandra Jean's design for the gear and tried to adjust it a bit following the Codex's information about older versions of the female gear having a skirt, but I just decided to make that padding around the abdomen and hips longer and simulate a skirt (but not too long to not reduce the mobility), whereas the male gear would be shorter and the way that Cassandra Jean did it.

RIP Charlotte, you would've loved jumpsuits QUEEN

(February 4, 2024)

Little Miss Barbie x Regina George (1878 Edition)

Jess was a bit more complicated because she does care about her appearance more and has a more intricate style. And normally I try to not add a lot of detail with Victorian characters because Queen Victoria didn't like makeup and found it vulgar, so women usually went for a natural look. Jessamine paints her dark circles whereas Charlotte naturally has them for obvious reasons. ☠️

Low-key, I loved doing Jessamine's ghost form.

And please let's not talk about my strange doodling attempt with the electrum lace design on the parasol. Halfway through it I started telling myself Henry is not a fashion designer and he tried his best to mimic a lace design with the electrum and hide some runes for her protection.

(February 13, 2024)

I will be honest, I struggled with the color of the dress because I do not imagine Cecily with a plain color dress, but not too intricate as Jessamine's. Everything looked too blue at first and I switched so many colors until it ended up like that. And don't get me started on the hair... It felt ✨WRONG✨ to give her a historically accurate hairstyle considering everyone gives her straight hair down.

So in my head her hair IS straight, she just has to appropriately wear it up. But nothing too complicated. And it's worth mentioning my memory is starting to blur out a lot. I had to check her wiki for the weapon and whatnot, and I found that she was petite and thin. In my head she was about Tessa's height. But I barely remember a lot from the books by now.

But I did try to make her look closely similar to Will. And I think she does look like a female, better, version of him. Also, if you're wondering why she's not wearing the necklace: I didn't realize I didn't add it until I finished coloring the dress and by that point I was so sick of it I left it like that. I had the sketch of the necklace, I just forgot to put it with the dress. 🫠

(March 2, 2024)

Gideon is so lucky. 😩

The suits might discourage me from doing the men because there's not really much difference aside of small details of how each man wears it. But anyway... Back to Sophie.

The damn maid dress. It's simple. It is ten times simpler than Jessamine's dress and YET I was struggling with it. And don't get me started on the scar.

The wiki said it was a big, silver, scar on the left side of her face from the corner of her mouth to her temple. I had an existential crisis trying to figure out how to do it, because in the other set ups of these drawings, I depict them like they're facing me, so the portrait wouldn't have shown the scar.

And it's a problem because I also suck at drawing scars. The first try looked fine but it wasn't silver, then I did this and in one part I guess it's fine because I didn't want to make a pretty scar when it's supposed to be bad and shocking for the time period. But a part of my brain thinks it looks like the fungus from The Last of Us. ☠️

Anyways. You may be wondering, "why didn't you do the Shadowhunter gear?" And it's a simple answer... I wanted to see her in a pretty dress. Of course, I could have done the portrait with the maid dress, the middle with her fancy dress, and the second full-body drawing with the gear but I didn't think about that until 10 minutes before posting. 🫠 And that gear is COMPLICATED (Not really, I'm just tired after the dresses).

(April 10, 2024)

If you are wondering why there is a huge time jump from the last fanart to this, I had a really bad art block and the frustration from the inaccurate dresses brought me back lol

Unfortunately I am currently in another slump 🫠

The next one was supposed to be Tessa but the dresses really frustrated me and I never even started the sketch. Idk if I'll ever finish it. I hope so, but don't get your hopes up.

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[cat0901h3]

Goosebumps Books 1-10

Can't believe that it took me nearly two years to just do 10 covers for the books. Will be posting more Goosebumps in the future, along with other stuff.

Read more to know my personal opinions and critiques on my fanart for each book:

Welcome to Dead House: I wanted to make the house look alive like Monster House, so I gave it more human characteristics (ie: the people in the windows to form eyes, or the finger-like branches.) Also paid homage to a horror film by styling it after The Amityville Horror house.

The Benson children themselves look a bit depressed, that's because the first book is actually more scarier than the rest of the series, so they're a bit angsty.

Stay Out of the Basement: This one killed a lot of my green markers lol. I tried to make Dr. Brewer as menacing as possible while still showing that he is a father with the photos, There were going to be more plants reaching out, but I decided that the leaves hidden on him would be enough.

Though I have to admit my disappointment with the lighting. It still looks a bit too bright, and not dark enough. That's just my own critique.

Monster Blood: Honestly, pretty mixed about this one. While I'm proud of the bubbling ooze that looks like a skull, which is outlined by one of my colored pens. I'm not proud that everything else is so muted with brown. Almost all of Jacobus' works are vibrant and saturated, so it being dull in colors feels like a disservice to him.

Also, Andy's last name was made up by me, she apparently just doesn't have one. It's inspired by Stephen King. Btw, hope you love banana and strawberry dyed hair, you'll see more of it soon in future batches.

Say Cheese and Die!: One of my favorite books, and of course it gets the best fanart imo. The screaming skeleton form of Greg Banks with red bg in the polaroid, contrasting with the dark background is just super cool, coolest shit I've ever done. Though I might be biased, I really like skeletons. Like Curly.

I actually made concept art for a Say Cheese and Die! graphic novel, which includes drawings of the photos and Spidey! Let me know if you're curious.

The Curse of The Mummy's Tomb: Not much to this one honestly. Just a mummy casually busting down a wall filled with hieroglyphics. Though I will say, I was experimenting with shading with purple and blues like Jacobus. As you can see, didn't stick for long.

This is also the book that I discovered that if the protag doesn't have a last name, then there is an official one either in the Presents novels, the mobile app, comics or other.

Let's Get Invisible!: This was pretty tricky to draw. Drawing someone turning invisible maybe easy in Photoshop or Procreate, but this was traditional art. Sure Jacobus did it with airbrushes, but I all had were pens and markers. But I somehow managed to pull it off, which is insane that I even managed that in the first place.

Night of the Living Dummy: Ah, the infamous Pamela Vorhees book, where the main antagonist isn't the mascot, but instead some other puppet lol. I've seen a lot of fanart of Slappy, but never of Mr. Wood. So I wanted to do justice for Wood while still showcasing Slappy. While I am proud for how it mostly turned out, there are two things that bother me. 1. This is the night sky that is black, the rest are either blue or purple. 2. I forgot to add the lines that make the jaw on Mr. Wood, whoops.

Aside from that, I hope guys like that Misfits poster in the background and Kris's cool hair cut. The green was inspired by the comic adaption not 2015 Jacksepticeye.

The Girl Who Cried Monster: Please forgive me for the small thumbnail, I wasn't using a ruler at the time. The design for Mr. Mortman wasn't much of a challenge. I loosely based it off of the French rendition of the cover and gave him a large leech-like mouth.

In my headcannon, the teeth spin like a garbage disposal, making easy work of the turtles.

Welcome to Camp Nightmare: Another one of my favorites, and I think I did a decent enough job, too. The lighting is perfect, the clouds look alien enough, and you can just barely see the screaming campers inside the tent. I do have one issue though, and that is the size of the monster, Sabre. In the original sketch I did, he was supposed to blend in like a bush, but instead he looks like Sasquatch Sr. Oh well.

While they did give Billy a last name in the Presents books, I had to make up one for Dawn. Just based it off Gwen Stacy lol. Also, hope you enjoy the little bonus pictures down below.

The Ghost Next Door: The original Jacobus art was perfectly vague enough to keep the twist there but not spoil anything. Of course to do the same thing, but with a twist of my own. The "ghost" shadow that you see in the street is the Dark Figure that follows Hannah around or when Danny is near. I wanted it to look like it was constantly on fire, since SPOILERS: someone in the book does die in a fire.

Another headcannon is that the Dark Figure isn't actually a ghost or whatever, but instead the embodiment of Misery.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

D-16 Megatron (TFO) x Cybertronian!Reader Pt. 2

Someone asked if there was going to be a part 2 of this and the answer is hell yeah. ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ Gender Neutral Cybertronian Reader!

Also, importante message in general - please do not spam my askbox. I've already recieved, in a row 5 asks/requests from a same user. It is kind of annoying, feels like you are pressuring me to do more than I already do and that doesn't sit me well. So, user who is doing this, do not keep doing it or I'll block you. Thanks.

WARNING: Spoilers from the movie (Transformers One 2024). Angst and more angst. Forbidden love scenario.

Days have been... good. To say at least.

Being guided by Optimus Prime, Elita One and Bumblebee's to fight against the Quintessons. Meanwhile, Iacon and Cybertrone was slowly picking up its true, beautiful colors and life seemed brighter for everyone after finally getting their T-cogs and feel complete.

... then, why do you feel.. empty?

It was stupid - you have now your T-cog, of course! And yet...

You try to not think about it too much - you decide to keep yourself focused on your tasks, helping others, and so on. But whenever the night arrives and you are alone in your berth...

"Primus, please... if you are out there - keep D-16 safe and sound. Please." You pray, holding your servos against your chestplate.

With the pass of the days you started to accept the fact that D-16 was no longer there, but it was Megatron who had now his face.

Things were getting better, but also tense at the same time, as from time to time, if they haven't done it on that day Megatron was vanished from Iacon, bots who started to think like him left Iacon by choice to look after the leader they wanted.

You remained on the Autobot's side - your spark longed for the mech you used to love, but you knew he was no longer the sweet, kind D-16 you used to know.

But - you wanted to see him. You needed to see him. Even if it was dangerous or that you might not live another day to tell - you needed to see him.

And little did you know how much Megatron silently suffered to himself as he couldn't forget you. And he, too, wished to see you again. His spark would cry too, wishing to see once again the same cybertronian that he fell in love years ago.

Alas - if something happens then it meant it was what Primus wanted to happen...

You were tasked to go out with a group of autobots to swap places with another group who stayed on the surface in other to keep track on any kind of Quintesson activity... or Decepticon, too.

"Arcee, in position" - "Prowl in position, too!" - "Me too - I mean, Blurr too!"

"(Y/N) in position as well." You add, followed by another one of your teammates through the audio connection. 1 solar cycle to be out there and keep an optic on everything until the next team arrives to swap places with yours. Thankfuly, for the past days, any type of Quintesson activity was nearly none - Primus bless Optimus, Elita and Bumblebee - but all of you wanted to be sure, just in case.

You were relatively far away from your team, moving between tall mountain alike structures, your right servo transformed in your (weapon of choice).

The sound of a heavey step made you quickly turn around, aiming your weapon with a serious expression - to quickly change into one of surprise.

Megatron stares at you and slowly start walking towards you. And you remain frozen in place, slowly lowering your weapon - until the sound of the audial connection being activated. Megatron freezes in place.

"Arcee to (Y/N) - I lost for a moment your location, everything okay?"

Megatron keeps his optics locked with yours, thinking you were going to give out his presence... You press the small audial device on your helm to answer. "(Y/N) to Arcee - affirmative. The structures are doing that glitch - but all fine."

After turning off the audial connection, Megatron runs to you as you open wide your arms, your weapon transforming back into your arm. And the big mech hugs you close, as you hug him back. In silence, you hold each other, his faceplate hidding against your helm as you do as well against his chestplate.

"... I missed you." You whisper, scolding at yourself for saying that - feeling weak. But how could you not say those words when you have been longing for him?

"I've missed you, too." Megatron confesses, moving to gently press his forehelm against yours, closing his red optics as you close your own. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"... Why did you do it?" You ask, spark hurting.

Megatron looks at you with softened optics, knowing what were you talking about - killing Sentinel Prime in a brutal way when he was already defeated, wanting to destroy Iacon, making a promise to become the sole true leader that was going to guide everyone and whoever stood on his way was going to be offlined. "I did it for our people, for us - Optimus was not going to make Sentinel suffer the consequences he deserved after all the torture he made us go through, (Y/N)..."

You should be angry - Primus, you should be yelling at him and fighting for his violent ways, for not understanding what he was doing was the same thing Sentinel was doing. Alas, all you do is let your optics fill with energon and cry softly as Megatron holds you close.

"I wanted to know you more! I - I wanted to be your friend! Fall in love with you - become your Conjux!" You confess, crying that life you wished for the moment you two met. "I wanted to become yours and you become mine!"

The Decepticon leader tries to not to cry, forcing himself to remain strong. Megatron blamed himself because... how could he give you those things you were wishing between the two of you now that he was the enemy? And he knew he couldn't ask you to follow him, to join the Decepticons - even when he wanted to take you with him, he wasn't going to take away your freedom, not after having that being taken away by the false Prime since everyone's birth.

"I love you." Megatron suddenly confesses, holding your helm with his servos, your optics once again finding each others. "The moment I saw you in that busy day - I knew you were the one who I wanted to bond with, become his Conjux and have our sparks meet the other. I love you, (Y/N) - and... I'm so sorry for having ruin our future."

Your spark fluttered and felt warm, whole. Complete.

Holding his helm back, you kissed him. And he kissed you back.

And that same night you two became the Conjux Endura of the other. And while it hurt you to leave him, and for him to leave you to go back to your respective places - your spark still felt complete.

Whenever you are alone, you place a servo on your chestplate, where your spark rests, and feel. I love you.

And, in silence, you feel his I love you, back.

In silence, you await for the day you get to be back in Megatron's arms. And hope, and pray to Primus, for the war to end and be by his side, one way or another.

I'm not sobbing you are sobbing. /(ㄒoㄒ)/~~ Vhaos out!

[chimeracauldron]

OMG!! Posting fully fleshed artworks like that on the daily is insane!!! How do you keep those juices flowing? And if it’s not an issue would you mind letting us see the speedpaint for Joan? Of the day: Memory ?

Haha, I wouldn't say they're all fully fleshed, the reason so many pieces are sketches is because that's all I have the time/energy for most days, but it's very flattering of you to say so ^^. For me, I just really like making art, it's basically all I want to do all the time, and I'm also pretty impatient, so I've learned to draw quite fast over the years. I'm also not exactly coming up with ideas on the spot, I've been using these daily drawing to explore ideas and OCs I've had bouncing around in in my head for a while.

I don't think it's a sustainable output for the record, the daily Joan?s has been a bit of a fun challenge I gave myself, and I'm lucky I have the time to do it, but I won't be posting daily Joan?'s anymore once I'm done with this little comic.

Unfortunately I don't make a habit of recording myself drawing, so I don't have a speedpaint to show you, but if it's interesting I could explain how I go about painting! I try to keep my process as simple as possible for these, and I have one brush I use for sketching, coloring, and painting. I wish I could tell you where I got the brush, I've long forgotten what it was originally, but it's just a textured pencil brush with pressure sensitivity on for the opacity and brush density and the minimum value set to 60/50.

I usually only do these pieces in 3 layers, the sketch, rough color underneath, and then the paint over, sometimes I'll rough out a background on another layer, or I'll add a few more layers if I think I might wanna go back on something I'm trying. As you can see, the rough color stage is quite rough, so i do change things around a bit when I'm painting and continue to mess with the colors if I feel like it. I have areas of detail I focus on, but otherwise try to keep it rough, you can see there a lot of large brush strokes throughout, especially when I'm blending large blocks of color. My brush doesn't have color mixing on, that's where the opacity and density sensitivity on my brush some in, I usually just lightly layer the colors over each other and color pick the middle until I get a gradient I like. This also works as a handy shortcut for figuring out how to light contrasting colors, like the green light on the cat lady's reddish-brown fur.

Anyways, thank you for reading, I hope that was all at least a little bit informative ^^

[cherryheairt]

Your favs as Hozier lyrics

ft. hsr, haikyuu, CM, genshin, castlevania, arcane, aib, hannibal

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby, I'd never want once from the cherry tree"

Men who, though they haven't had the most pleasant past nor have done things they're proud of, find the sweetest joy in being with you. No matter the day, easy or hard, you manage to brighten it and add color to his life. He'd never ask for anything more than you give because you're all he truly needs.

for: alucard/adrian, ushijima, semi, daichi, atsumu, XIAO, DILUC, lyney, wriosthey, welt yang, jing yuan, mydei, HOTCH, viktor, niragi, aguni, frontman/in-ho, your fav

"If I say this is drowning, you tell me I'm walking on water."

You're his silver lining in all possible scenarios. He never looks at the brighter side, instead succombing to whatever is thrown his way and baring it with grit teeth. The moment you're in his world, you teach him that there's more to life than simply living day-by-day.

for: Gi-hun, WILL GRAHAM, Spencer Reid, SILCO, VANDER, trevor, sakusa, tsukki, BLADE, arlan, GALLAGHER, Neuvillette, WANDERER, your fav

"I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to something. Let me wrap my teeth around the world."

He's got a bad reputation, but you've overlooked that long ago. You are the one thing he cares for at his stage in life, and he doesn't mind. He's greedy and selfish, and you've chosen to give yourself to him wholely. He takes and takes, and you give and give, trapped in a cycle of passion and love. Let him consume you, and you shall know his heart.

for: HANNIBAL, SALESMAN, loucha, SUNDAY, sampo, ALBEDO, DOTTORE, pantalone, capitano, ayato, chishiya, your fav

"We lay here for years or for hours. Your hand in my hand, so still and discreet. So long, we'd become the flowers."

In a chaotic life, he found peace in your touch. how long has he waited for one simple break from it all, to take a moment to himself? Your quiet breaths under his ear on your chest, your soft soothing traces down his scalp and spine, your endless hours of soft preaching that he could never get enough of. Yes, his perfect life was a quiet one with you.

for: dae-ho, arisu, karube, jayce talis, KENMA, kuroo, SUGA, TENDOU, akaashi, kyotani, JIAOQIU, veritas ratio, dan heng IL, kaeya, zhongli, al haithem, kazuha, your fav

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

His life isnt picture-perfect or neat. He prefers it that way, really. He stays up late, gets up too early, has a routine that works only for him. But somehow you've managed to weasel your way in and adapt to him and his eccentricities. How? He can't be bothered to find out, but his silent gratitude speajs volumes.

for: osamu, KENMA, shirabu, tobio, cyno, heizou, morax, frontman/in-ho, salesman, will graham, your favs

"But you worry some, I know. But who wants to live forever babe?"

Lives dangerously, on the edge of life at all times. You will never hear a boring story–though you wish you might–and though he'd never give up such a precarious lifestyle, he'll always come back home to his baby.

for: BOOTHILL, SAMPO, aventurine, CHILDE, CAPITANO, trailblazer, ITTO, nishinoya, oikawa, SALESMAN, HANNIBAL, your favs

May not be entirely cohesive, just wanted to write SOMETHING. Accidentally became important at work so I'm working 6 days now and can't get anything I want to done writing-wise. let's hope and pray for my manager finding another hire to ease my suffering

[revelboo]

I a begging on my hands knees for more of old man Kup, pleading and crying, he deserves so much love

Sure!

Don’t You Pt 4

Kup x Reader

• Stretching tiredly as one by one the other bots turn in until you’re left with Kup, watching him methodically sharpen an already wickedly sharp looking dagger that he’d pulled from out of nowhere. He’d explained it with a crooked smile as subspace storage when you’d stared at him, but to you it might as well be magic still. Stomach full, you feel almost okay for the first time since ending up here. Listening to the steady rasp of the whet stone, you yawn. Again. Do the bots sleep? The rest have gone somewhere, but Kup doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere any time soon as his cygar bobs between his denta.

• Glancing at you from the corner of an optic as your head nods and you lurch upright, blinking, he vents. “Tired, kid?” And you smile sheepishly at him as he subspaces the dagger and stone and stands. Feeling his old frame creaking, his joints aching. All of it familiar, but resented all the same. His spark willing, but his frame struggling. Not that he’s anywhere near done yet. Reaching out his hands to you, it’s a surprise when you willingly slide yourself into his palms. Trusting him. Remembers a small hand grasping his, a youngling shadowing him eagerly. Not exactly the same, but it means a lot to him. These young Wreckers are trying, learning, but he’s pretty sure they snicker behind his back. Think he’s too old.

• Servos flexing against you, he heads deeper into the ship and slips into a room. Every surface cluttered with things, objects. Proof of a life lived. There, a skull from something you never want to run into alive. Hanging from a wall, weapons, some of which look ancient. And he carries you to his berth and sets you down, going to fish through the stuff on a desk until he finds a blanket. “Don’t mind the mess. Not used to company.”

• Turning, he grimaces to find you looking around the room. How many times has Springer hounded him about tossing some of this stuff? Feels like losing bits of himself, though. “What’s that? It’s pretty.” And turning to see where you’re pointing, he smiles. Working his cygar, he lifts the bit of crystal and sets it on the berth near you. Watches the overhead lights from his habsuite make the rock throw prismatic blues and purples. Which world had Springer found that and gave it to him on? Can’t even remember and it bothers him.

• “Just a rock, kid,” he rumbles, draping the blanket at your feet. Smiling as the colors play over your hands and arms when you crouch in front of it, you glance at Kup as he removes his cygar and sets it aside before sitting on the edge of the berth. “Getting too soft,” he adds and you wince. Watching him easing himself back on the berth, you wrap the blanket around yourself. And flinch with the lights dim suddenly to send your heart racing. You’re not afraid of the dark. Never have been, but you inch blindly forward until you bump into his hand and, feeling like baby, you curl up against the inside of his palm with your blanket. Grateful when he curls his servos loosely around you.

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