#idk your lines are awesome.. your expressions are awesome..

[takes1]

tsukishima and yamaguchi are incapable of sharing you

is this a big metaphor? maybe. i dunno. it's steamier this way. read between the lines or something. two weeks of having a cold? or covid? or the flu? idk what it was but it burnt me outttttt

warnings. suggestive, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / suggestive fluff / love triangle? love shape? / fighting over reader / unrequited crushes / suggestive touching / touch starved!tsukki / touch starved!yamaguchi / sports massage, hot / best friends / girls team!reader / sadomasochism clawed its way into my fluff fic / tsukki is transactional / boyfriend material!yamaguchi / brotherzoning, friendzoning / daichi has canon aura / 4.1k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.

"Oh, wow--," Tsukishima's cruel and quiet snicker at your expense was inevitable. He pushed one side of his headphones off of his ear.

His brow raised in amusement at your exaggerated wobble, how you were unable to stand on your own.

Yamaguchi kept his arms stretched out for you to grab and help yourself up, a master at utilizing any excuse he could to hold you.

"Isn't this- I dunno- kind of excessive?"

He sighed, palms flat against your back as you stumbled into his chest.

He expressed no real urgency to let you go. The guy was -generally- touchy with all of his friends, so it was never worth raising any color flag over.

"We-- hah-h," You gripped his forearm when you tried to take another excruciating step on your own. You sunk to the floor so fast he didn't even think to try and catch you.

It spurred another rare, genuine laugh from Tsukishima.

You cleared your throat with some attitude, and attempted to gather your dignity before trying to get up again.

"-We did lose."

Now, especially, you could truly appreciate his tendency to help. This practice had been group punishment for losing your last big game.

Sparing the gruesome details, it left most of the first-years in horrible condition. Even the more experienced girls on the team were ambling away at a slower pace, wincing, under the weight of their own bodies and struggling to take one step down from the gymnasium.

"(Y/n)!!"

You all stiffened. That was Michimiya's voice- you thought all the upperclassmen had gone, but she popped her head out from the exit and sounded just as intimidating as usual.

"Yes ma'am?" You called, a grimace all over your face.

The two boys shifted further away. They weren't technically supposed to be here, yet, and kept their heads tilted to the floor, expecting to be scolded for not going straight home.

"Head to the training room and roll your legs out-- I need you better before Friday! You two--," She hesitated before telling them to leave, vaguely aware that you were all buddies. "Help her, please."

"Yes ma'am!!"

Just like that, she was gone. Your eyes were shining. You were needed. For the team.

"Oh my gosh..." You bit your lip.

"That's awesome!" Yamaguchi laughed, excited for you. If Daichi had told him something like that, he'd be over-the-moon happy.

Tsukishima crossed his arms, unable to relate, and now tied to this place even longer.

He didn't validate your silent request to be helped. He only came across as cruel, but his real reason was objectively worse.

Thankfully, Yamaguchi was there to fill in the gaps of his awkward, ill-timed difficulty. You smiled at his light concern, an 'okay' of sorts to let him know he could find your condition funny, too.

"Th-anks-- hh-ah... shit,"

It was so much worse now. You wished you had listened to your teammates, to not sit down ten minutes ago, no matter how much you felt like you needed to.

Tsukishima watched, hands deep in his pockets with no intention to be of free service. That sound of struggle was almost as satisfying as hearing you ask for help.

You didn't let go of his hands for a few seconds. The weight of your body was a lot to handle- you kept his palms squeezed hard in yours and were beyond grateful he stayed, unbothered by it.

They were technically tasked with getting you to the training room, but you only had faith that Yamaguchi would see it through. Tsukishima might go as far as to get on the first train home, all alone, because that's how much he hated waiting on other people.

Yamaguchi, however, shared in your experience. His eyes were bright and his smile always waiting to agree, or laugh, or ask you something.

"Can ya walk?" He giggled.

His freckled hands stayed, attentive, at your sides, as you laughed with him and tried.

Moving was doable, but only in little, shuffle-y, painful, half-steps. Your hamstrings were like guitar strings, pulled too tight from your ass to your knees, your quads as stiff as set concrete, and everything was burning hot to the touch. You worked up another sick sweat, just moving 20 steps.

The two friends shared a look as they slowed down for you. It was worse than they thought- and though they had confided in you earlier, telling you that this was normal, they weren't exactly sure anymore. They hadn't yet been pushed this hard at their own team practices (they actually won their games).

Tsukishima's chortle was mean, targeted, in nature.

"Am I gonna have to carry you?"

Your exhaustion blocked any of your usual retaliation. The suggestion was, unironically, very appealing. He had to ability to take some pain away and was 'offering.'

"Oh!" You groaned, palm on your hip after taking a few tiny steps to get to the wall, "Would you? Please?"

It caught him off guard for an imperceivable second.

He rolled his eyes, his fair skin inadequate cover for the blush you had inspired.

Yet, always the master of masking his emotions, he swung his body in the direction of the training room to evade suspicion, instead, "Hell no."

The multiuse training room was thankfully spared of any life, except for you three clowns. There wasn't even the athletic trainer, paid to stay later for hurt athletes. Most teams were finished up already and all the gear -the weights, the tires, the specialty equipment- was in its proper place.

You glanced to Tsukishima, who was second to make the connection that this was an even bigger waste of his time-- unable to take the sound of him picking on you again, you waved your hand at him, dismissive at his catty sigh.

"You can go home, Tsukki, I know you've got better things to do."

Yamaguchi smirked at the light pink that dusted the fair tips of his ears. He followed close behind you towards the mats, near the recovery gear.

'Reverse-psychology' almost always worked on him, outside of a match.

"Pff- whatever," He cleared his throat, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, "It's not a big deal or anything."

It was, in fact, a big deal.

You couldn't take even the softest of featherlight touches, or stretches, or damn near anything that was suggested by your teammates to try.

"You can't just give up," Yamaguchi said, softly, trying to encourage you to try the massage gun again.

"You're just being a crybaby--," Tsukishima shrugged, as if he didn't insult you, and took the thing in his hand, "If you can't do it, one of us should."

Without a second of hesitation, you swiped it from him. That thing was a weapon, with the wrong head attachment and in the hands of somebody with as little sympathy as him.

"Yamaguchi-!" You grew warm, handing it to the nicer of the two, "If- um, one of you has to do it for me. I want Yamaguchi to."

It was the most efficient tool for the job prescribed to you. Break up the lactic acid, promote healing, warm the muscle up for some stretching.

That list seemed so much simpler when pain was not part of the picture.

Having one them subject you to forced recovery was, regrettably, more doable than trying it on yourself. That didn't mean that it was easy.

Yamaguchi knelt atop your legs whilst you lay on your stomach, trying his best to ignore your pleas (as you had asked of him). He kept your leg still as he prodded the machine into your damaged tissue.

It was excruciating. Why did you play this sport?

"Stop-stopstopstop!!"

At last, your begging was met with a precious grain of sympathy. Yamaguchi looked nothing short of conflicted, unable to help without hurting you, but unwilling to let you leave without doing what needed to be done.

He gritted his teeth and looked back at you- to check if you were okay, because you weren't saying anything.

The rapid rise and fall of your ribcage was all he needed to see.

"I'm sorry- I-I can't--,"

He groaned, not knowing what to do, and set the massage gun down by your left leg.

"Oh- my- godddd." The blond boy groaned, horribly impatient in an instant.

The sound of the machine getting turned back on made you jump, but you got squished down before you could even think that there was a need to move faster.

Tsukishima sat backwards on top of you. He wasn't using his entire weight but it was enough to keep you immobile in the ways that mattered. Your muscles seized against your will at the primal realization that he was not going to be nearly as gentle or attentive.

Your shrieking become muffled in your sleeves, but it would've gone just as ignored if you hadn't taken that initiative.

"What are you doing?" Yamaguchi sighed, a bit mean and confused at how he just took over instead of talking about it first.

If he was doing something wrong, he at least wanted the chance to fix it. But that wouldn't fly in this company. Tsukishima was never the type to give people, even his best friend, that much faith.

"I wanna go home dude. I'm--,"

His pressure on the inside of your calf sent you into a full-on seize. He flew to keep your ankle to the ground with a pissed off groan and a heavy thump.

"-Getting- this done."

"You don't have to help!"

Yamaguchi was technically yelling at him, but it didn't sound like it. His voice was raised, a tiny bit louder than the massage gun, and that was about it. It was almost impossible for him to come across as angry. Maybe passive-aggressive, which was, admittedly, jarring enough.

He was met with a signature scoff but didn't back down from it. Yamaguchi had too many reasons not to shy away. If he was that bothered by staying longer, he could go home alone. The chance to hang out with you alone, not to mention the perfect opportunity to touch you, wasn't lost on either of them. Tsukishima knew about his feelings for you. Until now, it was never a topic that needed to be explicitly addressed.

Tsukishima threw a narrowed, cold look through his lashes to him.

That was oh-so-intentional, and a painful thing to process as he barks at you to stop whining so much. His hands are giant, wrapped all the way around your shins, weighing you further down so you can't kick.

You were almost getting used to it- how much it hurt- as you feel Yamaguchi settle next to you and place a reassuring hand on your back.

You're panting, hoarse and labored- you were going to thank him, but Tsukishima makes his way up to your hamstring and you flinch again with your face slammed back into your arms.

"Augh-! Dude!! Ha--Ah!"

Absolutely no remorse in his voice, "Tadashi, c'mere and hold her ankle. I can't do both."

They shared another charged glare behind your back, but Yamaguchi wasn't going to intentionally make things more difficult than they had to be. He wanted to go home too, and wanted you to feel better quicker- this was a necessary evil.

Part of your hoodie sleeve was soaking wet from where you were biting down, grimacing. You were slick with cold sweat, trembling, and could not wrap your head around how torturous this whole ordeal had become.

For a moment, just one tiny, fleeting moment, he took the machine off and you were able to gasp in a non-labored breath. He adjusted to sit on top of your butt (without asking if you were comfortable) and slipped a warm hand between your thighs to grasp your inner leg to keep you still. Yamaguchi's grip on your ankle felt after that- harder.

The pleasant sensation it sent down into your tummy became quickly interrupted by the worst of it.

"Mm-h-!!" You groaned into your clothes.

"Ohh- yeah, you're fucked," Tsukishima laughed in shock at how he could feel the tension, the spasms, under the skin once he placed that godforsaken thing back onto you.

You mostly blocked the rest of the experience out of your mind- it was nauseating, and long, and arduous. Tsukishima made no efforts to make the process any easier by asking you what you wanted, if you needed a break, or if you were okay.

It made the last of it that much sweeter. The training room was quiet, again, once the buzzing was gone.

"That should do it," He muttered, pushing the heel of his palm down the now compliant, though aching, muscle of your hamstring. It was practically mindless.

"Y-eah-," Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at the shameless display.

Tsukishima glanced at him. He cleared his throat and pinched you, just for good measure, then decided for you, "Yeah, that feels better."

You rolled your cloudy eyes just to yourself, unable to lift your head from your weak arms.

"Okay! Jeez! Get off of me."

Another ill-intentioned snicker was almost enough to make you look back. It, instead, only motivated you to tense up your shoulders.

"Did you forget that you have a second leg?"

Yamaguchi would've laughed with him, had he not been so pissed off that he was getting- for lack of a better word here- cucked.

Barely able to peel your chest up off of the ground, you huffed and pushed the stagnant tears from your face.

"You are not doing that again!"

It was another way of saying that you couldn't take it, which, in his twisted mind, was reason enough to smile. He had to adjust himself pretty plainly in front of his freckled, grumpy friend before getting off of you.

You rolled, heavy and slow, onto your back, and didn't spare him any looks. You spoke to the ceiling. "I'll do my own calf. Tadashi,"

His face was softer, attentive, at how you sighed his name. Every word afterward was a lot sweeter, lighter, than the ones that were meant for Tsukishima.

"You get my other hamstring. I can't reach it."

Now 'unemployed,' Tsukishima reclined against his bag, pushed his headphones up, and played on his phone.

You flipped back onto your tummy and pulled down on the hem of your shorts, for some bit of decency. All it did was make Yamaguchi's eyes wander. Tsukishima had already been stealing crystal clear glances.

Those practice shorts left little to the imagination, especially hiked up the way you liked to wear them for training. It did not go underappreciated in this group.

Yamaguchi tried not to stare- he really, really tried. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between where to adjust over you, and where he desperately wanted to cop a feel. It's just that you were turned around, with no way of knowing, and there was nothing too wrong with looking.

Neither of them were bold enough to bring up that your glutes -realistically- were the most worked muscle group that needed to be attended to.

Yamaguchi mirrored his hand placement to where Tsukishima had done it, earlier. He was not prepared at how intimate it felt at all, because his friend had given zero indication that it was such a big deal.

You flinched at the contact even though it was hundred times softer than you had been touched earlier. His palm was unsure, and varied in firmness as he tried to palm your thigh the 'right' way. You were grateful nobody -especially that blond idiot- could see how embarrassed you were, as you buried the side of your face harder into your clothes.

"I'm gonna try to be less gentle- so," He lost his train of thought, captivated in the sight of your softness filling the gaps of his long, tanned fingers, "Um... yeah."

Not-gentle was a good way to describe that massage gun on your stiff leg. But it wasn't a stabbing pain, like how forcefully and suddenly Tsukishima had started.

And yet, you couldn't help the reflex to bend at the knee, and almost nailed him with a powerful kick.

"A-ah! Sorry--," You couldn't quite get the apology out, between gritted teeth.

Since Tsukishima had been too busy peeking out of the corner of his eye to admire the space between your legs, the curve of your ass, and all the shaking, he was quick to grab that free ankle and pin it down.

They shared a mutually surprised expression behind you that, if anything, helped ease their nasty, competitive, and degrading attitudes.

Yamaguchi's face was very warm, his legs, his grip, had to be readjusted-- his fingers felt indescribably good in the midst of so much discomfort. He put more of his weight on you, having underestimated how much you might throw him off.

Neither of the two were saints, but if it were a competition, Yamaguchi at least tried to repress things.

He wanted to be seen as good, as nice, and sweet. Getting brother-zoned all the time sucked but at least it spoke to his positive qualities.

Tsukishima did not care all that much about looking like a good person. Being 'cool' was different, and just as performative, but still, different. He had less internal struggle when it came to checking you out behind your back; his only worry was getting caught, because it made him look interested. Being interested, to Tsukishima, was worse than being a 'nice guy.'

All that to say: He pushed your ankle a bit further to the outside, craning his neck to see just how much those safety shorts actually covered down there.

If he could get Yamaguchi to move his hand out of the way--

"You're doin' it wrong," He sighed, sounding flat- bored, even though he wasn't.

You spared Yamaguchi the responsibility of responding to him.

"You're- ahh- ridiculous, Kei. Fucking-- ridiculous."

His nose wrinkled at your assertion that he could possibly be wrong, "The fact that you can talk is evidence enough."

That made your face multiple degrees hotter, and kept you biting a rude reply into your shirt- it pissed your nicer friend off, on your behalf.

"Dude, shut up," Yamaguchi mumbled.

It was ironically something that sounded like it would come out of Tsukishima's mouth, in tone and phrase. He could've told either of you to shut up at any given moment, on any given day, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Coming from Yamaguchi, though--

The blond stiffened, his mouth curled into an absurd grin, but his eyes were fixed and brutal behind his glasses.

All the implications under their words, their jagged tones, were so plain and out in the open. To them. You remained disadvantaged, partially deaf (from the loud massage gun) and mostly blind (turned around), still preoccupied with your physical inability to stay on their conversational level or that emotional space.

To you, they were only trying to help, and the situation had not degraded so much.

You were busy thinking about how Tsukishima could not have been more wrong about Yamaguchi's 'technique.' The pressure had grown, making for a more intense experience than before, with all the new compensation.

An awful, bitter comeback was on the tip of Tsukishima's tongue.

"Woah!" A new voice, one you didn't quite recognize, was at the entrance to the training room, "What're you three still doing here? It's late!"

"Daichi!" Yamaguchi sighs, breathless, for a couple of different reasons.

You winced at his weird readjustment on top of you- and the terrible, sinking feeling that this was inappropriate and semi-public.

Was there no safe place for a bunch of underclassmen to hang out anymore? Since when did the seniors linger for this long? They usually were the some of first out the door, and the guys' team had been done for almost an hour, now.

His grip softens, flittering away, for a moment. A rush of strength finds his legs and he's safely hovering, instead of sitting, on you.

"Oh! Taking turns with the gun? Man-," Even his laugh is leader-like, all punctuated and deep, "Must be pretty bad, huh?"

When he clocks that their captain isn't there to scold, he keeps one palm safely on the mat, instead.

"Do you--," You push yourself up to your elbows again with a groan and a scrunched up face. It helps, to reiterate that this is not some kind of debauchery, "-Have any advice?"

Daichi was there to return some gear. He placed a bag on the table closest to the door, then hung up some keys. All that you could think was how responsible he looked.

He hummed aloud to himself, "Advice...?"

Yamaguchi slowly moved off of you, so as to not look suspicious, but his nervous demeanor always made him look a little bit guilty of something. You waved off his soft apology in favor of staring, curious, at the new presence.

You were able to roll over to your back and sit up, with marked effort- then stilled as their team captain joined your spot on the mats.

He took a second to look between all three of you, face impossible to read, then seemed to recognize you.

"You must be that rookie Yui was talking about," He doesn't realize how important that off-handed statement means to you, "It's nice to meet ya."

"You too," Your voice was ghostly soft, eyes wide, when he sat down to take you through some handy stretches.

His team jacket looks really worn in. His thighs are giant from years of playing. He knows what he's talking about. And your two idiot friends are silent, for once, so he must be super cool. You listen very carefully.

"So, if it's just soreness that you're dealing with, what you wanna do is--,"

"Man-," Tsukishima mutters, an incomprehensible 'What the fuck,' under his breath at those stupid puppy dog eyes you were giving their team captain. Great.

He threw a glance to Yamaguchi- his face was all screwed up, pissed off, too. They looked at each other with mutual, gloomy attitude.

Little did they understand that Daichi could've broken this up in a less civil way if he deemed them as any less credible in their actions.

It was their 'harmlessness' that kept them spared from a talking-to.

You were slower to understand that you were infatuated. As your long-time friends, they often read you quicker than you could understand your own emotions. It had been three minutes since the last time you blinked, and you didn't realize it, yet.

His stretches, and little tidbits of advice, rang familiar but more memorable than the second-year's recovery tips from the end of your practice.

"Thank you," You muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes so far back, so slow, that Daichi caught it.

"Of course! Happy to help."

You watched the incredible lines in his legs dance as he stood up and briefly wondered if he had ever suffered like this, before. Surely the answer was yes.

"Well-- It's great seeing you all take care of each other. Hang onto that!" Daichi kept one last, somewhat reminiscent, look on the three of you, and was on his way to the door.

"Oh-,"

You shivered, holding yourself as he turned around.

"Make sure to lock up when you're done!"

When he was gone, the door fully shut, you collapsed onto your back with a dreamy sigh. Yamaguchi was the first to stand up.

He was disappointed that you were so easy to impress, yes, but otherwise unfazed.

"You guys wanna go get something to eat?"

Tsukishima got to his feet, too, and had his bag slung at the ready-- usually not so food-motivated, but he was starving, at this point. The sun was low in the window. You nodded at the great idea.

Head still tilted to the closed door, you asked, "Does- uh, does he... have a girlfriend?"

Yamaguchi avoided your eyes, an easy task at his height, and took both of your hands to lift you to your feet. It was solely out of curiosity. He was so out of your league.

Tsukishima rattled off a blatant and well-done lie.

"Yeah. He's dating Michimiya- you didn't know that?"

It helped to cushion your feelings. You nodded, smiling at the way Yamaguchi kept you steady again with his hands in yours.

"Ohh, right. Right. That makes sense."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: Drawings from darklordofawesomeness' cat Stan au, this time featuring wolf Ford.

In the first, cat Stan is standing on wolf Ford's back. Some helpful text points to them, reading "Same coat color, same eye color, same expression, NOT related".

In the second, cat Stan is sitting on wolf Ford's shoulders, and saying "Wolfy, I'm gonna teach ya how to commit FRAUD." Ford looks nervous.

In the third, there are assorted wolf Fords and cat Stans: Stan curled up on Ford's shoulders; Ford and Stan posing cutely and reluctantly; Stan and Ford sitting in front of an open book. Stan says "If I didn't need this to turn human, I would just laugh at your suffering." Ford says "noted."

The fourth is a two panel comic where Stan teaches Ford to look less like a wolf and more like a dog. Ford is standing like a wolf; head in line with shoulders and tail down. Stan says "Yeah if you wanna fool anyone you need to change your body language", then "Lift your head and tail. Smile. Put your ears forward." Ford, following his instructions, looks significantly more like a dog at a glance. He is smiling, but his eyes are narrowed, and he says "I hate you." Stan says "Better! Now just stop scowling at me."

In the fifth, human Stan drives an extremely sketchy and loosely colored Stanleymobile. Wolf Ford is standing on the door and sticking his head out the window. Stan looks annoyed.

The sixth is nearly identical to the fifth, with the addition of Carla, Fiddleford, and Emma-May in the backseat. They, along with Stan, are dressed like Scooby Doo characters. End ID.]

More cat stans from @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's cat stan series! These are mostly from Double Cursed, except for the last two, which are ostensibly from chapter 52 (How to dognap a man?) of Cat Stan Extras. Except the last one is because i made up scooby doo vibes in my head and i wanted to do something with that. Basically, this is The Post Where Ford is a Wolf.

the comic is because way back when, i saw that one post about how to draw wolves to look more like wolves, and i thought it would be fun to use wolf ford as my guinea pig to test out some of the differences. Since ford is a human person capable of changing his body language! idk if it would fool someone in real life but in image form i do think it works, the second one reads way more doglike.

[wendichester]

⋆˙⟡ cool side only,

summary. it's cool hour o'clock and dean winchester is piercing his ear.

pairing. teen!dean winchester ft. sammy genre. fluff? idk

wordcount. 589

notes / warnings. self-piercing (left ear, safety pin, jack daniels), sibling banter and grunge-era teen rebellion vibes, sam being 11 and very done™, welcome to '94

⋆.˚✮ dean winchester + piercings essay

The motel bathroom smells like mildew and desperation. The kind that clings to every roadhouse you’ve ever stayed in, mixed with too-strong soap and the ancient scent of whatever Dad calls cologne but definitely doubles as bug spray.

Dean’s in front of the mirror with a stolen Bic lighter and a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. His Walkman’s clipped to his jeans, earbuds dangling while Nine Inch Nails mumbles “I wanna feel you from the inside” at a slightly warbled pitch.

“Dean,” Sam says from the bed, voice squeaky with preteen judgment. “You are not doing this.”

Dean squints into the mirror, pinched expression, eyes focused, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth in concentration. He’s holding a safety pin and trying to look like he knows what the hell he’s doing. He does not.

“‘Course I am,” he says, waving Sam off. “Left ear only. That’s the rule.”

“What rule?!”

“Every guy with a pierced ear on MTV has it on the left. Jordan Catalano has it on the left.”

“You don’t even like Jordan Catalano.”

Dean shrugs. “Don’t gotta like him. Just gotta respect the vibe.”

Sam groans and drops back onto the bed. “You’re gonna get, like, tetanus and die.”

Dean holds the pin up to the lighter flame, brow furrowed. “Yeah, well, then I’ll die looking awesome.”

He douses the pin with Jack, dabs the booze behind his ear, and takes a very unnecessary swig for courage. His reflection stares back at him like it’s judging, but Dean lifts his chin and lines it up.

“Alright, here goes.”

He jams the pin through his earlobe.

Silence.

Then—

“FUCK.”

Sam’s head pops up like a groundhog. “Are you BLEEDING?!”

Dean stumbles back from the mirror, blinking rapidly. “Shit—no, yeah—wait, maybe?!” He slaps a paper towel against his ear, squinting at the bathroom tile. “Okay, yeah, little blood. Totally normal. That’s just... battle damage.”

Sam looks visibly nauseous. “You’re not in a battle, Dean. You’re in a moldy bathroom and you just stabbed your ear with a pin we used to open a can of SpaghettiOs.”

Dean grins, unbothered, leaning back in to inspect the crooked silver hoop now hanging from his earlobe. It’s red and swollen already, but goddamn if he doesn’t look cool.

“Hell yeah,” he whispers. “Left side supremacy.”

“You are the dumbest person I’ve ever met,” Sam says, clutching his R.L. Stine book like it can protect him from this chaos.

Dean winks with his good ear. “Relax, Sammy. No guts, no glory.”

Three days later, his ear is still red and slightly oozing, but he refuses to take the piercing out.

Sam catches him poking it in the mirror and sighs so hard you'd think he aged ten years.

“Still think it’s worth it?” he asks.

Dean smirks, popping a toothpick between his lips, the epitome of 1994 teen rebellion. “Every time someone looks at me, they’ll know I don’t give a damn about rules.”

“You’re gonna die of sepsis.”

“Then bury me in flannel and crank Nirvana at the wake.”

Sam flips him off. Dean just laughs, tugs his band tee lower, and heads out to meet their dad like he didn’t just perform DIY surgery on himself in a bathroom with questionable plumbing.

The piercing’s crooked. It hurts. And every time he moves his head too fast, it stings like a bitch.

But damn if he doesn’t feel like a rock star.

(Spoiler: he keeps the earring for a total of 6 seconds after John looks at him funny.)

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[bubblybloob]

If you’re wondering, at this moment I think my new favorite route and princess is Spectre’s new chapter 3, spoilers below

The Princess and The Dragoon did something that’s been played with as an idea but has never played out like this, they flipped everything on its head. You and the Princess are stuck in the basement, your a voice now, and your voices are piloting your body.

We get to see things from her perspective, I remember a while before Pristine Cut came out someone said that the white lines on a black background weren’t supposed to be twisted flashes of what the princess sees, but actually what she sees. Her point of view is black and white and ours has color with, well, mostly grays, but also reds and even some yellows, which is- so cool.

Anyway finally just getting to talk and laugh with her and get to know her a little was great, I feel closer to her now knowing what it’s like from her side of things, at least we get a title card, she just gets shot into the next reality. It’s nice to just sit down and have a conversation with her that isn’t interrogative in some sense.

And finally seeing what we look like? Oh man, we’re terrifying! I’m sure it’s not the same with a ton of voices piloting us with all their different expressions and body language butting into one another, as well as the fact we’re seeing our body through the princess’s vision, but gosh it’s really cool!

Opportunist fucking smile was horrifying, and I’m not sure if Schrödinger’s beak is back since whenever Cold cropped up it looked like it would disappear back into the body, as well as when no one was taking over at the time.

I’m just a little disappointed that there isn’t a way to convince the Opportunist to let us live and leave with us in the princess’s body instead of in our own (unless that is possible and I haven’t found it), because that’d be awesome to not only be her for a time, but leave as her. Even still, the chapter is probably my new favorite and shoots Spectre way higher than she used to be for me (I used to think she was a little boring).

I don’t really know what to call this princess, usually we just give them the chapter name, but since the dragon part of the name is for us and not her, idk. Spectre 2? Electric boogaloo?

[daizedndconfused]

thievin’

a/n- idk why im up right now but yay first post of 2025 who’s hyped?? ik i’ve been like mia for a bit but i blame my ps5 for that. also back in school!! awesome (can you tell im crying) lmaooo anyway this is defo gonna be like a mini series so get ready okay lots of love everyone hope you keep up your resolutions if you do em<33

characters- cole brookstone x thief fem!reader

type- eh fluff kinda/enemies to lovers type beat you’ll see

warnings- very mild suggestive comments (not proofread)

synopsis- you’re a thief living in the most run down part of ninjago. you’re doing everything you can to make ends meet, but sometimes you gotta bite the bullet and take a gamble. in order to make a little extra cash you’re sent on a mission to steal a very priceless artifact—the most high risk heist you’ve ever been on. you encounter a certain ninja during your outing and you just can’t help yourself to a little bit of fun upon meeting him. will he let you go? will you succeed in recovering the artifact? or will it be your head on the line instead?

word count- 3.1k

Being poor was okay. Obviously, it wasn’t the ideal spot to be in, and sure you’d prefer to have money and not have to worry about whether or not you would be able to feed yourself tomorrow but you can’t have it all, can you?

Everybody thought Ninjago was the most gorgeous city–clearly they’ve never visited your side of town. You personally didn’t think it was an awful place to live, but it definitely isn't what people would expect out of the great ninjago city.

Nevertheless, it was home. Well, home since your parents died and you were left to fend for yourself. Technically, your mother died during childbirth, or shortly after. You didn’t really like to ask your father about it. It seemed insensitive.

The loss of your father was more recently caused by an unsuspected illness you didn’t have the funds to get treated. You lost him seven years ago, and you miss both of them immensely, even if you never knew your mother–she still held a place in your heart, and your blood.

Plus, it wasn’t as if you were completely alone. The loss of your parents and your home only hindered your spirit for a few months. But eventually, you had to grow up. You had only yourself now, and you needed to start getting your shit together.

That’s how you found yourself living in a narrow alley with nothing but a few blankets to separate yourself from the hard concrete, and a tarp above your head held up by hopes and dreams in case it rained. Courtesy of a girl you’d met three years ago–Henley.

You did what you had to to survive, the both of you did, but your version of ‘work’ was a tad more illegal than Henley’s. While your friend chose to work at some manufacturing factory that paid maybe ten cents an hour, you quickly developed the skill of ‘soft hands.’

Just a little something you picked up in the few years before befriending Henley. Plus, living where you did at the time, it was customary for your father to teach you martial arts, and teach he did. He often pushed you to your limits, making sure your senses were always on high alert.

Though now you supposed you were grateful for it. It made it easy to navigate the crowded streets of Uri–the poorer side of Ninjago that most people decided to ignore.

The early morning sun beat down on you, somehow finding its way around the tarp above your head.

Groaning you rolled over, hoping to block out the rays and catch a few more hours of sleep.

“Morning,” Henley yawned from beside you.

You mumbled incoherently back at her.

“I’ve gotta get going, work starts soon,” Henley told you. You heard her scooting closer towards you.

“Why d’you work at that shithole?” You grumbled, still not fully awake. “They barely pay you, Henley.”

You could practically see the expression on her freckled face. She was most likely staring down at you with a torn and somewhat somber expression.

“It’s the only place that would hire me,” she muttered. “You know that.”

Squeezing your eyes tight you then sat up, stretching out your back. Upon opening your eyes you came to find out your assumption was correct.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Which is bullshit by the way. Any web company would be lucky to have you.”

Henley shrugged a shoulder. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Then it’s a good thing we haven’t stooped that low,” you reassured her. You left the unspoken yet out of the sentence.

Henley smiled, brushing back her mane of curly red hair. “Okay, now I really need to go. Please, be safe today, and try not to get caught. I really don’t know if I can stomach breaking you out of jail again.”

“In my defense,” you said as she stood to leave. “There may have been some alcohol behind the reason that asshole caught up to me.”

Henley fixed you with a look that said, Good luck, before she looked up and down the already busy streets and made her way to the factory.

You gave yourself a few more minutes before heading out onto the streets. As usual, Uri was already busy at like eight a.m on a weekday. Stall owners were yelling at anyone passing by as if the volume would persuade people to stop and buy a useless trinket they didn’t need.

Still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you wove through people, fluid like a leaf in the wind. It was almost too easy to nick people’s wallets this way. In Uri it was almost impossible to walk anywhere without brushing shoulders with someone. Lucky for you, the jacket you wore held many pockets to store your ‘finds’ on the street.

After palming a few wallets on your way to possibly the best looking building in this part of town, you opened them up to find nothing much. Out of all the wallets you lifted, you got a whopping thirty dollars.

See that was the issue with living in a poor neighborhood–everyone you stole from was also poor. Not a great match unfortunately.

Sighing, you made your way towards the tallest building in Uri. It also just happened to be where you’d pick up a way to make some extra cash on the days that were really slow. Just from waking up this morning you knew today would be one of them.

The only issue is, the jobs you’re given are risky, and so you try not to do them as often.

The guards posted outside of the doors let you through without any issues. At this point you’d been coming here sporadically for about five and a half years. You were the best and most reliable thief Malina had.

A few doors, some hallways, and an elevator later, you stood in front of the woman herself.

Malina stared at you with a victorious glint in her eyes, her head resting on her intertwined fingers. “And here I thought you broke up with me.”

“Ah, you know me,” you shrugged, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “Always comin’ back.”

“Now that I can always rely on.” Malina leaned back in her big leather chair, one long leg crossed over the other.

Malina was the only successful business owner in this Uri. Shockingly, she got most of her wealth from illegal schemes and black market dealings. Which is why she needed you.

Malian didn’t waste any time in throwing down a file on top of her spotless desk.

“It’s all in there,” she waved a gloved hand, her diamond bracelet twinkling in the light of her office.

You reached for the file and flipped it open to survey its contents. Your eyes widened as you continued further and further down the papers clipped together. This job was impossible.

Usually, nothing is impossible for you. However, in the past Malina only ever had you stealing jewels from old guys on their deathbed, or artwork from museums, and sometimes some random priceless artifact guarded in an equally random warehouse.

Apparently this time she really wanted to put you to the test.

“This is a joke,” you said, flipping the file shut.

“How so?” Malina asked, dark brows furrowed in innocence.

“Look, you give me work, and I’ve always appreciated that,” you told her honestly. “But stealing from the Royal Family is my one way ticket to a lifetime in prison.”

Malina pouted at you. “And here I thought my star employee never got caught.”

You scoffed out a laugh, tongue in your cheek as you looked up to the heavens for patience.

When she didn’t back down you finally spoke. “What else you got for me?”

“Unfortunately,” Malina said, though her tone didn’t suggest she found it anywhere near unfortunate, “that’s it.”

“Bullshit,” you challenged.

Malina raised her hands. “I’m serious! Work’s been booming lately.”

Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes. The two of you stood unspeaking, staring at each other as you weighed your options.

On the plus side, if you did this job successfully, you and Henley might be able to afford an actual apartment. A shitty one, but it was better than the alley. Plus, you might also be able to afford the first few months of rent before you get a real job and force Henley to quit hers at the factory.

Closing your eyes you reluctantly agreed. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Malina’s grin widened into an eerie expression, her pearly white teeth shone almost as bright as the diamonds around her wrist. “I knew you would. Clothes are in their usual place.”

You nodded and spun on your heel, hightailing it out of Malina’s office. Thankfully, ever since you all but pledged your loyalty to her, she’d provide you with some living essentials occasionally. Things like showers, a hairbrush, basic needs like that.

But when she sent you out on a mission, she made sure you were set up for success, and the rest was on you. Opening the wooden wardrobe at the end of the hall, you were greeted with the familiar sight of the dark clothing you typically wore on outings such as these.

You picked the uniform off the hanger and quickly found the nearest room to change in. Even though you wouldn’t be leaving until nightfall, you still would rather put it on now as it helped you even in Uri. With the hood and mask covering the bottom half of your face, the only thing you could really make out was your hair and eyes.

You spent most of the day on the roof tops, going over the blueprints of the palace Malina provided for you, along with the guard rotations. Pacing along the edge of an old rundown building, you slowly came up with a plan. Though, the object you had been assigned to steal was a bit odd. You expected jewels, or even the crown, but instead you were sent after a golden hourglass, with equally golden sand inside.

You didn’t know the properties or importance of the object, but to be honest, you didn’t really care. You just wanted to get the job done and over with so you could return home and finally place a roof over your head after seven years of sleeping under the open sky.

As soon as the sun set beyond the city, you set out. Of course, you left Henley a note explaining you might not be back tonight–and that you might not be back at all–but you assured her not to worry.

It took a while to get to the good part of town, but a few subway trains later, you finally made it. And what a difference it was.

Instead of yelling and aggressive haggling, there was light chatter, laughter, and the buzz of technology reverberating around you. Not to mention the colors. Almost every sign in Ninjago was neon, and sometimes you couldn’t help but get a little sidetracked looking at all the beautiful things you’d never get to experience yourself.

Eventually, you found yourself by the palace. Fishing out the timetable of the guard rotations, you determined that the east side of the castle would be the most unprotected in about two minutes–meaning you had to be quick.

Quick you were. You managed to get to the east side and scale the wall in a minute and thirty. Tiptoeing around the outer wall, you made sure to keep your eyes on the guards below. So far, none of them noticed you.

Finally, you landed on the tiled roof. By memorization, the hourglass would be located in a mostly open room on the top floor. Carefully maneuvering around the roof, making sure to not make too much noise, you managed to unlock the window and pull it open.

Thankfully, it didn’t make much noise. Letting out an internal sigh of relief, you quickly tied a rope on one of the support pillars of the palace and threw it over the side of the window. Directly below the window was an obnoxiously large potted plant that would do well to hide you from view.

You briefly wondered if you’d be able to climb back up with rope one handed, but instead you figured you could bring a cord to secure the hourglass onto your belt loop.

As usual, you landed on the red wood floors without a sound. As much as you wished to stick around and admire the impressive castle you’d only ever seen in newspapers, you had a job to do.

Heart hammering, you peeked around the plant to find two guards–both with their back towards you.

It feels almost too easy, you thought as you crept towards the hourglass displayed on a pedestal.

Once you got close enough, you took a few moments to inspect the pedestal. There was a very possible chance of the hourglass being placed upon a weighted pressure plate that would set off the emergency alarms if removed, but after looking at it, the stone surface looked entirely even. There most likely wasn’t any extra security around this artifact, but in the off chance there was, you’d have to be ready to run.

Calming your mind, you swiped it quickly, preferring to take it and bolt in case the alarms went off.

You got three strides in before your luck ran out. All around you alarms had started blaring, alerting every guard on the premises. However, by that point you had already tied the glass around your waist and were ascending the rope.

You could vaguely make out the alarmed voices of the guards chasing after you, and as soon as you heaved yourself onto the roof, you sliced the rope with the knife in your boot. Two thuds and pained grunts were all you heard before you bolted.

Guards were climbing up at every point, but what they had in size and brute strength, you had in speed and agility. Being quick on your feet was like second nature–and you really should send a letter to the Royal Family to invest in some guards. These ones weren’t all that good at their job.

You hoped over them in groups, and it felt like you knew the palace layout better than they did. You knew exactly where to step and when to step, that by the time you landed on the other side of the walls, you knew you had one.

You grinned and laughed triumphantly as you jumped across the rooftops. The guards got further and further away and you blame the adrenaline in your veins for what happened next.

Suddenly, something tangled itself around your ankles, sending you tumbling to the concrete of an apartment complex.

“Son of a–” you winced, cradling the wrist you had landed on at an awkward angle.

Sitting up quickly, you reached for the rope wrapped around your ankles when a boot beat you to it.

“I don’t think that belongs to you,” the stranger spoke.

Looking up slowly, you mentally cursed yourself at the figure standing above you.

The Earth Ninja.

Why the hell were they at the palace? Why did they care about some petty robbery, wasn’t there some maniac trying to destroy the world that they should be busy with at the moment?

“What? The outfit? It doesn’t–borrowed from a friend.” You leaned back on your palms, looking up at the Earth Ninja’s strikingly gorgeous face.

He wasn’t wearing his mask tonight, leaving all his features on display–brown eyes that you guessed were a gorgeous shade of hazel in the light, shaggy but well kept hair as dark as the sky above, and a build that could rival the strength of an ox.

Cocking your head, you pushed your hood back and mask down, letting him see your roaming eyes and approving smirk.

“I need that.” He pointed to the golden hourglass at your hip. Apparently he didn’t find your jokes very funny.

“No, I need it,” you countered. “How else am I supposed to keep track of the time? I don’t have a watch.”

You shoved your hands up, rotating your wrists spastically to emphasize your point.

The Earth Ninja leaned down, but you didn’t back down. “Just hand over the glass, and I’ll tell them you dropped it trying to flee.”

You too leaned towards him, the both of you so close your noses were almost touching. In the ninja’s favor, his expression didn’t falter.

“I told you, I need it.”

“And I gave you an ultimatum,” the ninja returned, his eyes hardening. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked with a wink.

You saw his facade crack slightly as he twitched back every so slightly. That was all the hesitation you needed.

As the two of you went back and forth, you had been discreetly severing the rope binding your legs, and you quickly wrapped them around his waist, flipping him over onto his back. The Earth Ninja landed with a harsh exhale. You leaped off of him quickly before he could counter your surprise attack.

He was a ninja, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to beat him at hand to hand combat, but you could avoid him. Your thought was proven when he was back on his feet and into a fighting stance a split second after you created distance between you and him.

The Earth Ninja raised a curious brow at you over his raised fists. “Who are you?”

“Funny I was about to ask the same thing,” you laughed. “But, I think I’ve got something that could help me out with that–Cole L. Brookstone–what’s the L for? Oh well, six-foot five inches, black hair, two hundred and ten pounds–” you broke off looking him up and down. “Well you certainly don’t look over two hundred.”

Cole’s eyes widened as he lunged for you, and the wallet in your hand. You jumped back from him easily and continued to read off his driver's license.

“Hazel eyes, nineteen years old–oh cute we’re the same age–”

“Give it back!” He demanded, reaching for you again, only for you to slide under his legs and appear behind him.

“Born on October 25th–” another attempt to grab you had you using the rope previously used on you against him, binding his wrists, and legs making him fall on his ass.

You then hopped onto the roof of the entrance hallway of the building, and sat on the edge, legs swinging in front of you.

You continued to flip through his wallet, “Restaurant receipt–you know you don’t have to keep those. Lifetime subway pass, oh you lucky bastard. Gift card you’ve probably had for three years, credit card–very shiny, one fifty in cash and–” you paused upon seeing the last item in his standard leather wallet.

Sliding your eyes down to the boy your age, you raised a brow at him, almost laughing at his red face you could see even in the dark.

“Why do you have a condom in your wallet?” You giggled.

Cole momentarily stopped struggling against the rope and had the decency to look away, embarrassed.

“Emergencies,” he grumbled, glaring up at you.

“Ah, right,” you sucked air through your teeth before tossing it back down on his lap.

Flexing his arms, he snapped the ropes like they were ribbons and did the same with the ones binding his legs.

“So, it seems we're at an impasse,” you sighed.

“No,” he stood, “we’re not.”

“Au contraire, you’ll never catch me. You had your shot, and you blew it.” You pointed at him accusingly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I’m very slippery. And I assure you–you chase, and I’ll run, and I can keep running for a damn long time.”

It would become a game of cat and mouse you knew would go on forever.

“Surely you don’t expect me to just let you walk away with a priceless artifact from the Royal Family.” Cole crossed his arms.

“Exactly–impasse.”

The stubborn boy shook his head, black waves flopping. “No, I–”

Before he could finish his sentence, the dart was already buried into his arm.

Cole startled, looking down at the tiny metal needle sticking out of his right bicep. He gave you an unimpressed look before reaching with his other hand to pluck it from his body. However, his hand was halfway there when it went limp by his side.

Cole’s brown eyes went wide as his legs too started to wobble, and shortly after the rest of his body gave away.

He once again landed on the ground with a dull thud.

Smiling slightly you gracefully jumped down from your perch and made your way over to him to retrieve your dart.

“What the hell is that?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Just a numbing sedative,” you responded, pocketing it. “Don’t worry it’ll wear off in like an hour.”

“An hour? Hell no, help me up.”

“Hmm, tempting,” you deadpanned, but you did prop his back up against the wall of the roof in a sitting position.

Cole glared at you, and you smirked back.

“I enjoyed our little game of cat and mouse my friend,” you patted his cheek before standing to full height. “But I’m afraid I must be going. Places to be, money to be made–you know how it is.”

“Hey! Wait!” Cole called to your retreating back.

But you didn’t. Instead you leapt down to the adjacent roof and all but skipped back to Uri, happy that you weren’t caught, but you weren’t entirely mad about meeting the Earth Ninja either. Secretly, you hoped he'd track you down–where round two of your game would take place.

[flyingdidii]

hi! idk if you take take any requests, but if you are, would you consider doing just a little fluff of Gotham Knights Jaydick? It doesn't need to be anything fancy, even just the blockhead chibis you draw from times to times will look awesome and cute, because your artstyle is super characteristic of you and very recognizable. I specially love your lines, they're very expressive and I've recognized your art at least four times by your lines alone on twitter/x already (that's how solid and amazing your style is to me <3)

Thank youuu, I loved reading this, and sorry for the delay <3

The (not exactly) chibis for you <3

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

[sabertoothwalrus]

OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.

MMMMM what a fun question!!!

I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.

one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.

something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!

as far as inspirations go!

my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.

my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.

ATLA has some great expressions

OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up

A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc

memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind

and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.

talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.

[kkoct-ik]

hey! idk if it's okay to ask, it's okay to ignore this. how did you come to terms with being trans and decide to transition with the identity confusion? i'm not sure what i have going on specifically but i'm struggling with that. like if a part has dysphoria/ids as trans but another one doesn't, how do you know if you're trans? it isn't uncommon for parts to have different genders, isn't it? i imagine it depends a lot on the individual but i'd like to hear if you have any thoughts on the matter

oh im glad you asked this!! i actually have a lot to say on this from my experiences. im so happy to answer this

overall i think people can do anything. if by 'being trans' you mean express yourself, literally just do it. you dont have to justify yourself or have a 'legitimate reason' to shift your identity or presentation or experiment. youre always growing, always changing, humans are complex and awesome. dont shy away from being colourful and multifaceted.

that said i do know medical transition with dissociative stuff is kind of a hot topic because of its 'irreversibility', and i do have things to say, so ill ramble about my experiences with being a pwdid who has chosen to medically transition.

to contextualise myself ive been 'trans' since i was 12/13(?). this is when i first started presenting myself as male and using a new name. since then ive gone through a few different male primary identities but i've stayed pretty consistently ftm. when pitching myself to healthcare providers, i can pretty easily tell them that ive been unwaveringly socially presenting as male since i was 12.

that said when it came to my 20s and the prospect of actually booking those appointments and securing masculinising hrt i kind of had an identity crisis. because although my primary identities have been male for a long time, theyve also always been very kinda miserable and felt kinda wrong and disengaged (which makes me believe a lot of my binary maleness is a way i reject myself. which made me think, if the gender dysphoria is a dissociative symptom, won't healing my trauma get rid of it..?). moreover when ive been in certain female parts ive felt comfortable and happy, so clearly girlhood in general is to an extent grounding to me. but still, the notion of being seen as and treated as a woman makes me feel bad, even when in female parts. my pronouns are definitely he/him.

so i had no idea 'what' i was. i really felt the possibility that down the line id have a totally different gender, and maybe not be 'trans' at all, so i worried about healing my trauma and then regretting medically transitioning.

what i ended up doing was just a lot of introspection into my identity. i decided to accept that i was allowed to make choices and exercise my autonomy for my present self, without being paralysed about a possible future. i knew if i just kept waiting and being afraid, i was going to remain disconnected from myself, forever wondering if transitioning could have made me feel better. i reckoned even if i did detransition in the future, i would still respect my past decision, because i was going to put a lot of thought into this decision and make it for myself and my happiness with the information i have now, as i should.

i ended up frequenting the actual_detrans sub for a bit to make sure i was open to the possibility to changing my mind in the future, and also so i could be assured i wasnt just operating under sunk cost fallacy by locking in and medically transitioning because i felt like being 'wrong' wasnt an option. i also reflected on my identity as a whole, and figured collectively, im definitely nonbinary in some sense (luckily, im at a point in recovery where i am relatively integrated, and thus can piece together my 'big picture' and come to this conclusion. this will probably be harder for others...). when considering all my parts: i enjoy regarding myself as a 'girl', a 'man', and in a masculine/butch way. so i took that when working out how to become 'myself' without worrying about using singular or binary labels.

i decided from that point that i would enjoy the effects of testosterone, but dont necessarily want any surgeries done. i dont hate any part of my body, but it does feel strange, and i want to grow into it in a masculine way. my teenage female puberty never really felt 'real', and i was very estranged from my body. looking at myself, i still felt prepubescent in some sense. so a second puberty, one that i was actually ready for and chose, was appealing to me. for me hrt isnt about fixing anything i deem wrong with me, and is more about showing myself i can be me and feeling more at home within myself.

and as a progress report. since starting hrt (9 months ago) i really have found all the changes really joyful, and ive finally started feeling like i own my identity, body, and myself. i see myself as adorable and cute now. since the voice drop and hairiness i feel like an even happier 'girl' and more comfortable as myself. ultimately im really glad i didnt stay paralysed with my 'what-ifs', and im also glad i didnt lock myself into a conventional transition timeline (ie incl. surgeries) without pausing and taking the time to assess who i am what it really is i want out of this care. i think i made a really good call.

so yeah. i hope!!! my ramblings help at all. i do understand the struggle. hopefully me breaking down my process can be assuring or illuminating. i believe in you anon and i hope you work things out

[postmail]

hey guys i love you. its my birthday in three days have some queeshmael (and other assorted stand-alone ishmaels and queequegs) moby dick fanarts that ive drawn over the course of like... several months that i never posted because i thought they looked like shit. and tbh i still do. but also theres beauty in everything and also also i need to lead by example of fearlessness in posting shitty ass fanart just for funsises. just because it makes me happy. some of these are outdated but idgaf. enjoy inconsistent character designs lol

its under the cut cause uh wow thats actually a lot more than i expected? whoops?

okay funny story i actually lied up there a little bit i drew this several months ago and was so madly in love with how it turned out that i never posted it because i didnt want the inevitable lack of attention to sour it for me. its a little outdated now but i still love it, i just want to put here so i never lose it. ishmael please go to therapy

newer art yet somehow even more outdated designs? i think i was trying to be a bit more experimental and didnt like how they came out. i still dont like the designs very much but looking back now i dont think the art itself is actually that bad.

never posted because i just couldnt get the anatomy quite right. i actually kind of miss when i colored grays like this idk how i forgot that actually wait i should start doing that again-

this one was for mermay, just pure silliness and cringe for the soul. more of that awesome gray shading line stuff that i need to start doing again, but i didnt like how queequeg's face looked. and also i think i felt a bit silly about this? like i thought it was too cringe or something? idk why tho its kinda cute to me now. best of wishes to ishmael in his goal to fuck that fish man

more inconsistent queequeg designs! i really liked this one when i first drew it, but i thought it was too small to post on its own, being just a itsy little doodle for shading practice. now i can post it :). wonder who it is thats talking to him?

another little drawing! this one i never posted because 1) i fucked up when drawing it and accidentally drew it way too small and 2) i accidentally made it waayy too similar to another moby dick fanart by another more popular user and i didnt want other ppl accusing me of copying or smthin... i jusr didnt think this piece was particularly worth the risk of that. i think its fine now tho.

incredibly shitty doodle i really only made for myself ft. incredibly innacurate drawing of a sperm whale. ngl i still think the joke is funny tho.

shhh dont tell the cringe police about this one but this is a queeshmael fankid i made. her name is rachael and she cannot make normal facial expressions to save her life. she loves listening to her dad infodump its interesting to her. she knows so many incorrect facts about whales! whoopie!

this might have been a valentines special? idk. i was gonna redraw it but then i forgor. let this be a lesson to you: finish your drawings, or else you'll only have the older version to show to people (its okay i still like this a little bit)

oh shit i ran out ok bye guys hope you liked your gay whalers peace and love on planet earth

[moldypoff]

you should totally drop your procreate brush settings.... it looks so nice ;;;

Oh boy, I’m about to blow your mind rn/j

I use the basic brushes

No motion filter, no stabilizer, we rawdog drawing like it’s on paper/hj

Speaking of paper tho

This is my screen protector! Also a BIG reason why it’s easier for me to draw digitally because of how FRICKEN awesome it feels to draw on it! Paperlike is kinda balls, sorry y’all :( - P.S. I only got it yesterday to replace my old one.

Also I lied, I do modify the 6B pencil brush(2) a bit! But it depends on the situation (I’ve only turned the pressure size down because I didn’t need my lines to have weight for a bit) Also the Maximum Size is huuuuuuge because it’s a painting brush!

But yeahh, rn it’s kinda just the 6b pencil brush, Inka, soft brush, and that one medium hard brush thing I made by just going to Apple Pencil on a medium hard airbrush and upping the size to max <- This use to be my main brush a long time ago but now I just use it for erasing.

Also also also, I use a drawing glove for smooth, long, continuous lines!

(I think it’s this one, I don’t exactly remember :,3)

This might not really matter too much but I also changed theee uhhhh, the thing

YEAH! That think, Pressure and Smoothing in Preferences :D

I think by turning the motion filtering expression all the way up it gets rid of that stupid auto stabilizer procreate has??? Idk, I’m not really sure how it works, also I’m completely lost on the App pressure sensitivity, I watched a video on youtube on how to adjust it twice but I still can’t figure it out for sheeit. I kinda got something I liked, but that took experimentating- which didn’t take long! And even tho it’s confusing I didn’t change it too much to, again, find something that works for me.

Remember, it’s not the brushes that make you a good artist, it’s how you use them! Digital art is difficult as hell as is if you’re working on the glass surface itself, so accommodate it to you (if you can’t, no shame if that’s what you got to work with) also ARTISTS WHO RAWDOG THEIR ART ON A PURE GLASS SCREEN SCARE ME/j/silly/lh(👀 Moonie) @paper-starz

Moonie, Moonie tell people what you use to draw, you’re literally going to knock their socks off

(They’re really humble! I have “fancy” stuff to help me draw but their digital art is still, in a lot of ways, still better than mine! And that’s credited to their creativity and knowledge of art, but I won’t speak for him, she can tell you all abt it themselves!)

[leondickrider]

he's a dangerous pretty boy!!! | leon s kennedy x gn!reader

💭 . . . idk what to say but i was thinking of the time me and my friend broke into a house when we were 7 while i wrote this xx | 🎧 pretty boys - yena | wc. 531

synopsis: you are in raccoon city and you meet a dangerous pretty police office aka mr kennedy

before reading: fluff ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ based in re2r, no gender specified but reader is wearing a dress so, proofread | warnings: leon is too cute, a zombie blows up so slight gore but it's not detailed at all bc erm !! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)˚๐*˟♡

You rushed throughout the Raccoon City Police Department, dodging zombie after zombie. “How many of these things are there?” You muttered to yourself, glancing at your once light blue dress that was now stained in blood. Your sandals now soaked from the puddles of blood you have ran through. You jumped when you heard a door creaking open. You quickly hid behind a table on the ground and covered your face. 'Please don’t be a zombie. Please don’t be a zombie. Please don’t be a zombie.’

You heard a voice, finally, a human voice. “Hey, is somebody in here?” A masculine voice said. You looked around the table and saw him, a police officer with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was covered in grime and blood, but you could tell he was very attractive. He could best be described as a pretty boy.

“H-hello?” You replied quietly, climbing out of your hiding spot. The person sighed, relieved from the situation. He rushed to help you get up and smiled when he looked at your face. “Are you alright?” He asked, concerned etched across his face. You nodded and mumbled, “I am, are you okay? That’s a lot of blood.” You observed his wounds. He chuckled, “Forget about that. My name is Leon, Leon Kennedy.”

You looked at him, a closer position this time. He had amazing cheekbones, a perfect jawline and his shoulders were rather broad. You admired his pretty blue eyes, and your gaze began shifting down. His lips were very plump to say the least. You thought his moles were cute as well. He was precious.

“I’m [full name], it’s nice to meet you Leon.” You introduced yourself. Suddenly you fell into a giggle fit and he looked at you with a confused expression. He began softly laughing from your laughter and managed out a few words, “Why are you laughing?” You continued laughing very hard, before forcing yourself to stop laughing, or at least stop laughing as hard. You forced out some words, “It’s just… We’re in a zombie apocalypse and I’m over here introducing myself so formally.”

He suddenly started laughing harder as well, making you laugh harder. His laughter was so contagious and even with the hoards of zombies that could be waiting outside of this window you couldn’t help but feel safe here with him.

Without warning, the door slammed open, and a zombie limped in the room, going straight for you. Leon quickly took his shotgun out and shot the zombie in the head once, making the zombie’s head blow up completely. You stared in disbelief with teary eyes, still shocked from the event. It was all so fast that you couldn’t fully comprehend it until Leon placed his hand on your shoulder and he took your jaw to turn your face, so the zombie was away from your vision.

He gave you a comforting smile and caressed your chin. “It’s okay… I’m here… I’ll keep you safe.” He spoke in a soft tone, making you feel better. He wiped your eyes with his thick fingers, and you blushed slightly. He wasn’t only a pretty boy.; he was a dangerous pretty boy.

omg that ending line is literally awesome wtf 🏷️ @luvrfaries

reblogs and replies always appreciated ty <3

leon kennedy masterlist

[syscultureis]

sys culture is. being very confused about ocs!

(feel free to treat this sub as a question and read till the end if you'd like, answers are exactly what we're looking for)

to clarify we ourselves have had ocs since we were a kiddo. some were actually just straight up alters saying hi, some were not

the thing is, for us ocs are usually just alters that were uh... altered... we really have a way with words. anyway, some represent feelings and memories that are hidden deep within our headspace (so sonas of our alters we don't really know about) and some are sonas of freq fronters. some are in fact just newly split dudes that usually say they're introjects but idk what was first the source or them

the question is. how do singlets oc /genq

we're just really wondering cause inside of the oc community for the most part doesn't look singlet at all. people sorting their ocs by the place they live in? ok hold up headspace builder /hj the burning desire to give their ocs trauma... the livid living through them... the variety and amount of details like the op has lived a lot of different lives and they understand just so much experiences... are we allowed to assume most of the oc community is systems by default

this sub is mostly /silly and we're not trying to diagnose anyone whatsoever unless you're in a process of getting a diagnosis yourself and want to be seen. system or not, you're valid and your ocs are fricken awesome

that being said, we'd really like to hear about your experiences on that. you the reader yeah everyone who'd like to share. how do you feel and go about your ocs as a singlet, if you feel in the right mindspace to discuss it right now? how is your experience with ocs and the community as a system, do you also wonder about what we did? ty for anything you'd contribute

As a system who copes by making OCS, we absolutely get that lmao

OCS are fun, and definitely have been a way for us to express ourselves pre discovery (and post-discovery sometimes)

Sometimes we introject OCS, and sometimes they were just alters first, sometimes the line is fuzzy "were you using this OC to express your existence, or did you form after we made the OC?" "Uhhh idfk. Yes?"

We always get super in depth when making OCS tho, so much research goes into them all the time so we can better portray their lives as accurately as possible. I would assume most singlets do the same but honestly idk

[thatfriendlyanon]

tagged by @liuisi to shuffle my on repeat playlist and share the first 10 that come up, and @sunflower-chai encouraged me to put my results in a playlist, so here you go :D i couldn't help but ramble a bit about each song as well :]

(i skipped any songs that i Only listen to on repeat to fall asleep to; i've been trying to exclude those from my listening profile but some still found their way in)

more and more beautiful // skye peterson one of my favorite songs Ever rn. skye's current music is so comforting to me because of how it acknowledges the messy pain & confusion of being alive while still wrapping the hurt & questions up in gentle, compassionate hope.

invictus // brave saint saturn i don't think i've listened to this That Much tbh but last week i remembered how awesome anti-meridian by brave saint saturn is, and this is one of my favorite songs from the album :D

your worst day // andy gullahorn ohh this song... i've been really into this whole album recently, after not listening to it much since like 2019 sdljsdg. this song especially has been such a balm to my heart rn. how comforting to know i am loved even on my worst days; and if i struggle to believe in people's love for me, i know without a doubt that God is singing this over me too. <3

sisyphus // almost always ahh yes my tried-and-true "i miss Jesus & wish i could just give Him a huge hug & have all the doubts & distance disappear." <- honestly an emotion i feel Very Often and is so specific that it's hard to find songs that express the particular ache, and yet this one? is so perfect?? i’ve never looked into Your eyes / but i’ve heard them described to me so very vividly and i’ll touch Your robe if You come close / whether or not it seems You recognize me.....!!!

eustace scrubb // sarah sparks i love this song for many reasons, but it's been a particular companion for me in relation to certain topics that i know sarah sparks did Not intend for it to refer to but nevertheless it is a really beautiful, honest yet Christ-centered response. just.....the struggle of trying to make yourself into something else, failing, only to find bottomless mercy & True transformation in the hands of Christ. <33

ancestry // lena raine & minecraft KLDKFJFDSSD this song is on here because i looped it for like 3 hours straight a few weeks ago. rozu, crim, and i were having a gigantic lore confrontation on the deep green and i needed background music that wasn't too distracting, and this was perfect for wandering through a skulk-lined labyrinth and killing my oc's best friend

broken into beautiful // hillsong chapel the church i've been going to played this sometime in january, the morning after i'd had a Really Hard night. it was the first time i'd heard this song & multiple pieces of imagery in it were exactly what God had spoken to my broken heart the night before, so it's become very dear to me during the season i'm in rn.

enough // the jellyrox YEEAHHH i looped this SO MUCH after our first night of Big Lore, when icarus & kore finally found sisyphus (after eIGHT REAL-LIFE MONTHS) and a huge fight ensued and this song perfectly articulated the partially unmerited anger & bitterness blazing inside icarus afterwards. also this song is just SO FUN like i cannot help jamming to it whenever i listen to it. i do really like Angry Music tbh what can i say sdlkjsdglj

plead // joel ansett mmmmm another Theme Of Right Now (alongside "more and more beautiful"). it's similar to "sisyphus" to me in that it articulates such a specific type of emotion, that weight you feel when living in a broken world & with a broken heart, and God seems distant or inactive, and your faith feels too brittle & weak, and your prayers are more often single words over & over instead of anything eloquent or fervently faith-filled. when i could barely pray in october i just sang this chorus over & over and trusted that Jesus could receive it for what it was. idk man. i can't really explain what this song does for me but it has helped strengthen my soul.

receiver of wreck // the narcissist cookbook HYMN BY THE NARCISSIST COOKBOOK!! IS SO SO GOOD!!!!! it's a nonlinear exploration of grief, avoidance, art as catharsis, and the painful necessity of confronting unprocessed emotions. it's a mixture of stunning spoken word pieces and aching songs. i love it so so so much and i think it's one of those pieces of art that will honestly stick with me forever. i listened to this particular track on repeat a lot in january, something about it helped ease my ruminating brain & i love how it's such a soft & gentle conclusion to the journey of the album. <333

if you're listening to music when you see this, consider yourself tagged tagged if you want to! (& i'd loved to be tagged so i can see other people's songs :D)

[creature-wizard]

A fun way to handle smug asshole proselytizers is to answer their questions with whatever random yet cool thing you can think of. Like,

"How do you think the universe was formed?" "I believe the Great One sent his servant, the Cosmic Weaver, to weave the fabric of reality into being."

"What do you believe the purpose of life is?" "I think we're here to invent the Ultimate Rock Song to please the Great One's ears."

"What do you think happens to us after we die?" "I think our souls are taken to the Heavenly Spa where servants of the Great One give us TLC to cleanse us of the impurities and damage we've accumulated in this life."

"How do you know your beliefs are true?" "I sat down and meditated upon God and the meaning of life, and I saw an angel descend from Heaven, and they revealed this to me; and I felt within my heart that it was absolute truth."

And so on and so forth.

Theses people's technique hinges on you being like, "ummm idk" so they can be like "AHA the Bible has the answer and the answer is JESUS!", so just blasting them with whatever fun answer you can come up with off the cuff just throws 'em off their game. >:3

If they start talking about the Big Bang or evolution and claim it's impossible, just agree with them and then give them your own explanation.

If they start bringing up Biblical prophecies, just point out that early Christians twisted and misinterpreted the old texts to make it seem as if Jesus was fulfilling them when he wasn't, and if you actually bother to read properly you can see this for yourself. This one is actually true, and you can just keep throwing it at them as long as they try to appeal to prophecy.

Also, if they try the whole "okay then how do you explain (insert event in gospel texts here)" line, you can be like, "oh buddy weird stuff happens all the time, you should hear what happened to my friend Josh the other day, he met this guy who descended from the sky and gave him this crystal inscribed with a message from the Great One." If express doubt, you can just come back with "Are you calling my best friend Josh a liar??? I've known him since kindergarten!"

Whether these people actually realize it or not, they aren't here to persuade you with Facts and Logic; they're here to try and win an Awesomeness Contest against you. And it's very easy to out-awesome them by throwing whatever fun and cool stuff you can think of at them.

[foursidecity]

your art has like! Muppet shapes to me! The big hands and big feet and the flowy poses just make them feel so expressive and fun to look at. I also adore just how out there you can get with your art. Idk if it’s necessarily a trademark but u have a very interesting imagination and it’s awesome to see in your bigger pieces :—]

EHEHEHE... I've gotten the muppety comment ALOTTT and tbh I still dunno if I see it myself but I think it's silly n fun such a good compliment heehe... ALSO YEAHHH YEAH I like to try and experiment and try new things... esp when I see an aspect in diffrent art styles I like to dissect it and see why I like a certain coloring style or line style or shape :) it's very fun... oughh