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chaosduckies · 3 months

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Friends In Small Places (Chapter 1)

The size shifter story is finally here! This is more of a slightly sad piece, even though this first chapter isn’t really all that gloomy and monochrome, I actually have this entire plot line planned out and everything, and whew is the ending going to be something.

But I hope you enjoy! (this chapter is mainly just for introductions so I’m sorry if there really isn’t anything interesting TwT)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Depression, major anxiety, slight gore warning? (Though nothing actually happens)

1-Liam

Today the main hall was bustling with people crowding the board that had all of the activities and clubs posted on. Most of the time people didn’t care all too much about it, only the people who were actually in those clubs, but today was different for some reason. Fitting in between the seemingly hundreds of people, I saw what the commotion was all about. The psychology classes were all being called to a meeting at four. Which was when most classes ended, but still. It’s rare that this school ever calls meetings. It just so happens that I was taking psychology though.

I sighed, moving back on the free sidewalk get to the library. A friend was waiting for me to help her study for a test she had in just a few hours. I thought I might as well help seeing that I’ve already taken the course. I used to think that college was extremely strict from how my old high school teachers described it, but in reality it’s not that hard when you just take the time to study and take a few practice tests the day before one. It was just two-and-a-half years before I major in psychology and become a therapist. Well, that was my dream anyways. In this world, it was a lot harder given that most therapists get assigned to a size shifter. That was something I didn’t want to do. Well, maybe if it was one who could only shrink, but that’s maybe it. It freaks me out knowing that there are some shifters who could be as tall as a small skyscraper, and some even bigger. A shiver ran down my spine even thinking about it. But that won’t happen.

Among the few people sitting at the quiet tables lines with pencils, a few pieces of notebook paper, and a lamp that barely even worked, there was a girl waving her arms around aimlessly trying to gain my attention. I laughed softly before walking and sitting down next to her. It seemed she had been here for hours with how she kept her space. Papers spewed all across with scribbled down notes that was barely even legible, colored pens in a mixed mess with her other writing supplies. It made you wonder how she had even made it to college.

“I see you’ve been hard at work, Rhya.” I set my slightly heavy bag down and started attempting to clean up the vast sums of paper all over the desk and try to keep her notes in order.

“Yeah well, not everyone can be all neat and tidy as you are.” She lightly elbowed me before grabbing the stack of papers in my hand and shoving them in a folder. I guess she was going to re-do them after all. Either that or she didn’t need them. Despite this being primarily a nursing and health school, Rhya was in the art department. Of course she had to take the core classes along with her own elective, but she plans on becoming a graphic designer.

“It’s not my fault I know how to study and you don’t.” I joked around, watching her pull out her computer and grab a few empty pages on notebook paper and her calculus book.

“And it’s not my fault you don’t know how to have any fun.” She stuck her tongue out playfully before pulling up a practice test.

“Hey I know how to have fun, just not when I know I have better things to worry about.” She solved the first problem right, pumping her fist up in the air as she wrote down the question and highlighted everything she needed to do. I’m also guessing she planned to study whatever notes she was making.

“I guess you have a point. How’s that psychology major coming along?” She had asked, writing down the problem and attempting to solve it. I sighed, pointing to the number she was missing, “You square root that,” Rhya groaned, “It’s going good. We have some kind of weird meeting later today though.”

“Oh? Do you know what about?” Rhya asked, but I could tell she was hiding something from me. She knew something.

“No. Do you?” I skeptically looked at her, earning a side eye right back as she had paused her writing for a moment.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” She grumbled, I shook my head, a slight smile forming on my face. She knew I would win this argument.

“Okay well, this might not be true, but I heard that a few psychology students were chosen to have a training. Like, the real deal kind of thing. Size shifter and all. That the ones chosen were supposed to act like one of those special therapists.” My heart nearly skipped a beat at the news. Where did she even hear this from in the first place? There’s no way that’s even real.

“You’re kidding, right?” I laughed nervously. Even if it was true, I doubt they’d choose a sophomore. I’ve only really had a few practices and I still have a couple more years until I become the real deal.

“Would I lie to you?” She turned to me, a worried look on her face. Did she think I would have to go through with that? I sincerely doubt it. There was no way they’d put me on whatever list they have going on. Maybe my upperclassman though. They could choose Chelsey, she was really good with everyone and a senior. They’d most likely choose her. Maybe even Ryan since he was really experienced. Actually, he was a size shifter himself, but he’s so good at controlling his emotions that he doesn’t even need to worry about accidentally shooting up a couple feet.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I doubt they choose someone with barely any experience. Don't’ worry about it.” I smiled, pointing back to Rhya’s computer to tell her that she needed to get to studying and stop worrying about me. Seriously, she really needed to study otherwise she was going to fail. I can almost guarantee that she’ll be crying to me later when she fails her test. Not my fault she doesn’t study.

——————

The gym was a large space, but our entire class only took up one tiny portion of the bleacher space as our instructor and several other people dressed up in fancy suits were talking on the ground. I sat next to Ryan, who was playing with the green-colored band on his wrist, showing that he was in one of the five classes of size shifters. Purple represented that they could shrink down to an inch or maybe even smaller if their emotions had the better of them. Blue represented that they could shrink too, but not as much as the one’s with a purple wrist. Green represented that they could both shrink and grow, but only to a certain height. Yellow meant that the shifter could grow to be the size of about a small building, or maybe even a little more depending on how they’re feeling. Red was by far the worst one. To me at least. The shifter’s with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Which was why all shifters with a red band were all forced to be with a specialized therapist for only them. Because if they lose control of their emotions, it could end pretty badly.

“I’m glad you all saw the announcement on the board. I’m a little surprised really.” Mr. Smith shoved his hands in his front pant pockets, taking a look at all of us before his eyes laid on me, smiling warmly. Why? Something was up.

“These two gentlemen here are the head of the SSU. Also known as the company that helps size shifters in need. Recently, there has been a shortage of individuals that are willing to work with shifters in helping them control themselves. These two are on the look for candidates-in-training to help fill those missing spots.”

The two men in suits walked to the front, holding out a clipboard. Those had whoever was going to be picked for this. But why this school? There was another college not too far from here. They could choose from them. Unless they were, and the “tiny” shortage was actually a big one. Or… no. They wouldn’t do that, right? It’s the SSU, they’ve literally helped the world become safer for decades. They wouldn’t be doing an experiment, would they?

“It’s wonderful to see all sixty-two of you young scholars gathered here today. As your professor already said, we are both from the head office at SSU looking for the best of the best to fill in those empty spots, regardless if you do or don’t have any experience.” That last part made a shiver run down my spine. Ryan turned his head to me, patting me on the back. There was no way they’d choose a nobody like me. No way in hell.

“This list contains twenty of you who will be taking part in this. You will be in charge of taking care of your designated partner until we can find a professional replacement suited well enough to take over. If I call your name, please stay behind after we dismiss everyone.” The tall man smiled, looking down at the clipboard and calling several names. The anxiety pricked my skin like icicle shards, it had almost seemed like the man reading off names was speaking in slow motion. A few deep breaths, and it was back to normal.

“Ryan Wright.” He smiled while earning several compliments and congratulations from his fellow classmates.

“Chelsey Torres.” She giggled a few seats away from us.

“And Liam Rover.”

My muscles tensed up at the mention of my name. I couldn’t tell if my heart had stopped or if it was just beating horrifyingly fast. I could tell people were trying to praise me, but I couldn’t hear, their appraisal only reaching my ears in a muffled and slow manner. I managed the most sincere smile I could while trying to hide how much I was trembling. Maybe this would be okay? Maybe I’ll be lucky and not be paired up with a shifter who could potentially crush me between two if their fingers if they really wished to. Was the room cold or was it just me?

“Everyone else may head to their dorms. Thank you for coming.”

After everyone had filed out of the empty gym, the other shorter man dressed in an identical suit as the taller one started calling out our names all over again, handing them a red folder with presumedly the shifter we’ll be assigned. Was this how it was when you’re actually a professional? You just get assigned to one? You don’t get to know them or anything?

Once I was handed my folder, I dreaded every single second of opening it. Please let it be easy, please let it be easy, please let it be eas-

Oh.

It was only a picture of who we were partnered up with and anything that might be worth mentioning about them. Wow was I overreacting. Then again, that didn’t exactly smoothen out the anxiety that was still pricking at my skin. Though, this shifter didn’t seem so bad. If anything, he actually looked pretty nice. The only thing I had noticed was that he was diagnosed with depression. He kind of looked like it too if I were being honest. It seemed hard for him to smile for the picture. Why did I also get the hint that he wasn’t feeling very good either? I guess I’ll find out when we officially meet.

“Inside you’ll find who your partner will be for the foreseeable future. You’ll still be coming to your classes, which was why we mainly wanted to stick with the upperclassmen, and afterward go back to where we are currently housing your designated shifter. You have three days to pack everything you need and want, and you’ll soon be living off campus. Just think of it was having a roommate that needs constant supervision.”

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I’m almost entirely confident that this shifter won’t really be a big deal. I mean, he looks about a year or two younger than me. So he just graduated high school? Agh, I have no idea. I’m just jumping to conclusions. But, hopefully they won’t make me handle anything crazy. That I can’t do.

——————

They were driving me across the city to go meet up with the shifter I’ll be taking care of for however long. For all I know it could be a few days or weeks. I would think someone would want to step up for the job instead of letting students do this, but I guess not. Chelsey and Ryan have texted me a few times that they were getting settled in already while I was still heading over. It was already around thirty minutes just to get across the place, so that means I’ll have to take a bus almost everyday just to make it to my classes. That’s just great, but I’m in no position to complain. I actually tried talking with Professor Smith about it, but he told me that he had no say in the matter at all, which was weird. I doubt he would want his younger students to even take part in this.

Along the streets were the many, many buildings that both accommodated for humans and their much larger or smaller companions. Although I’ve only ever been around Ryan about twice when he’s giant, it really wasn’t that bad. He can only grow till someone was like the height if his entire hand so it really wasn’t even that bad. Of course it’s still nerve-racking, but I trust him. Plus, we were at a small party with our little friend group. I doubt he could even bring himself to hurt someone. So really I wasn’t too worried. The only other shifter I’ve been around is an old high school friend of mine, but she goes to a different college now.

Hundred of houses passed by us as we drove into a little neighborhood. What really made me worried was that the driver wasn’t exactly stopping at the normal-sized houses. Where was he going? I watched grimly as some of the huge houses we passed by came to a halt to one on the very end of one of the many streets. This one wasn’t as big as the other one’s down the street, but it wasn’t exactly small either. At least to me. So… I was paired up with a shifter who could only grow. That’s great. Just… great.

I grabbed my bag and the small suitcase I had brought with me that was just full of my clothes and some stuff for school. Well if I’m supposed to stay here almost all of the time now I have to find something to keep me busy. And apparently from the immense size difference that will be between my new roommate and I. Of course I was terrified! If he really is diagnosed with depression and was a shifter who grew that only made matters worse for me. I hope whoever plans to take over for me does it soon.

It took me and the driver to reach the doorstep, but eventually the driver gave it a knock. I swear I could hear some mumbling coming from the other side, but I didn’t dwell too much on that. Most.y because the extremely large door started to open slowly, but I saw no one on the other side. Maybe he was shy?

“Well I may take my leave, though I have been ordered to tell you that a bus comes in the morning at around 6 just down the street from here, and another will take you back here around 5 and 8. Also, if anything goes wrong, to call this number on your phone.” He handed me a folded slip of paper, then took his leave. I shoved the slip in my pocket, hesitantly taking a few steps into the huge house.

It was neatly cleaned around the place, though I couldn’t really see from my view on the ground. Everything around me was huge. I mean I’ve been to one of the rooms on the bigger side of the campus, but those rooms were smaller. It’s not an entire house filled with furniture.

As I took a few steps out more, I jumped when the door had lightly closed behind me. My eyes trailed up and up, finding the face of the person I had seen in the picture. His eyes grew wide when I met his gaze, then bit the bottom of his lip before sliding his back against the wall behind him.

Everything in my body told me to run, but if I did then I would only get scolded for it later. This isn’t even what I wanted to be! I wanted to be a normal therapist that helps regular adults and kids feel better. Not a human who could easily trap me in a fist and just kill me. I would have been fine if they could only shrink, but this was much worse.

I faced down, taking a few deep breaths that barely even help me in this situation. I had to take care of someone fifty times my own size? How was that even possible? There weren’t even any smaller sized things around this place. Nothing that could help me get around easier either!

I guess I could attempt to get his name. I mean, nothing could go wrong then, right? Just maybe from a distance… even if he could, at any point in time, just grab me whenever he so wanted. I felt sick just thinking about being held. Wouldn’t I have to be though? I can’t exactly just climb everywhere I want to go.

“H-hi. Um, I’m Liam.” I forced myself to walk closer, even under his gaze, but I stopped walking closer when he moved himself further in the corner, looking a bit saddened. He probably knew I was scared. Maybe. I hope I’m some-what hiding it well enough. Though, I’ve never really been that good at it.

“Oh, um, C-Casper. You can call me Cas if you want.” He kept his voice to a very quiet whisper. So he knew that if he talked too loud it would hurt my ears. At least he’s self-aware. Though, I couldn’t help but feel bad. I may be utterly terrified of him, but I mean he hasn’t really given me a reason to be truly scared, yet.

“Nice to m-meet you, Cas.” I put on my best fake genuine smile. What? Have to find some way to convince him I wasn’t scared. Even if my body was trembling like crazy and my heart threatened to just come right out of my mouth.

“Y-you too, sir.” His hand slightly twitched, but he just shook his head, giving me a sad look. ‘Sir?’ Why did he call me that? I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I turned to look at the place, not finding a place to put my stuff. I sighed, hurrying to place it up against the wall opposite of Cas. This would be fine. Yeah, yeah.

Casper, overall, seemed pretty nice. He had a black, messy hair that complimented his light-brown eyes. He wore a baggy long-sleeve shirt with a pair of jeans I have no idea why he was just wearing jeans in his own house, but it’s whatever he wants to do. Not my place to comment. The only real thing that caught my attention were the light bags in his eyes. Has he been sleeping?

“Did you want to come here? Like, willingly?” He had asked, slightly leaning a little closer to my spot in the middle of the floor. I admit, it made me a little uneasy, but I don’t think he realized it. It just made it really hard to answer his question when all I could think about was how easily he could kill me right now. He wouldn’t do that, right? He seems so nice. Even if I’m barely two inches to him and I could easily just be crushed or accidentally killed if he wasn’t being too mindful. I shuddered at the thought, but forced my voice to work with me.

“I-I’m just a student at a college. They just told us we were going to help out shifters, for like, real-world training I guess.” I started speaking a little fast and I could hear my voice slowly get quieter the more Cas seemed to lower his body to me. I felt so small compared to him. It’s overwhelming really, but it’s not like I can just back out. I already asked and they said if I did then I wasn’t cut out to stay in the classes. Seriously, all I wanted was to either be a therapist or a social worker. Not take on these huge responsibilities of making sure an entire living being is doing okay and doesn’t have any malicious intent to just… Aghhhh.

“Oh. Well, I’m not exactly the best person to be paired up with.” He laughed sadly, holding up his wrist and revealing a red band. A little squeak left my mouth as I stood in place, practically frozen in fear. Why did they pair me up with him? They gave me more than I can handle. There was no way I could do this. I bit the side of my cheek, struggling to keep my composure.

Cas caught onto my fear, scooting as far away from me as he could while making sure I wouldn’t freak out. Why did he move away? I was going to be fine. I think- But I was okay. Just as long as I keep a certain distance from him for a while. It takes me a long time to adjust to new things, and this might take me a while, but I couldn’t just do nothing. It was obvious to me that Cas was afraid of something, I just couldn’t figure out what just yet.

“I’m fine, Cas, I promise.” I nervously smiled, hiding how terrified I was. Shifters with a red band can grow to heights you could only dream of. Great. Seriously, what have they done? They think I can handle someone who already looks like he’s struggling to keep himself together just by meeting me? I didn’t really want to find out what would happen if he doesn’t contain his emotions. Was there a person partnered up with him before? I knew I wasn’t going to be getting any answers, but there was no harm in asking them.

“O-Okay,” He whispered, getting in a more comfortable sitting position, “Are you sure though? I don’t mind giving you an hour or two to get used to… everything.” He looked away for a second, and I could tell something was on his mind. Along with the constant moving away every time I had tried to walk closer, or when he knew I was scared of him, I would think to say that he’s scared of himself. Or, at least hurting other people. It makes sense actually. I’ve heard stories that a lot of shifters realize that they can really hurt people and just try their hardest not to interact with people smaller than themselves. It’s like they collapse on themselves since they don’t want to hurt anyone. I guess Cas and I weren’t so different.

“Okay, look, it’s obvious that you’re more afraid of yourself than I am of you,” Cas’s eyes widened, “How about we both try to help each other out? I’ll keep trying if you do.” I held out my hand without thinking. A compromise between the two of us. I know we both met like five minutes ago, but I’m pretty sharp for people my age with little experience. But, honestly, maybe this wasn’t so bad. I think all that Cas wanted was the relief that he won’t hurt people. Or something like that.

“You’d go through with all that? I’m not exactly mentally stable.” I could tell that he was worried, but I just nodded my head, a genuine smile on my face that I hoped he could see.

He eyed my hand for a while, and I still hadn’t realized what was wrong until he lightly pinched my hand between the tip of his pointer and thumb, barely even lifting it up and down for my own sake. Oh he has no idea how scared I was right now, but he didn’t have to know that. Just a little more pressure and he could just yank my arm right off-I shook that thought away. Don’t think about that right now. It would be okay. Just as long as I get an idea of what to do when he does eventually lose control or something. I had zero idea. I think the thought that stuck in the back of my mind was making me more worried than anything really. I’m just a stress toy for him. But I’ll just have to get over my fear. There was no way I would let this stop me from graduating. Not in a million years.

——————

Sorry for a slightly boring chapter! I did a LOT of world building for this one, and had to map out almost every single interaction through the course of the entire story plot. There also wasn’t much g/t but again, it’s just an introduction chapter. (I’m doing what I love and no one can stop me hehehe-)

But I hope you enjoyed reading! I promise the second chapter will have a much, much better g/t interaction. (Oh trust me it will >:3) I hope you all have a great day/night!

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twig-gy · 4 months

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so mind was repainting his walls last week. he dragged me in his room as if it was some kind of intervention, but he just wanted me to watch. what? him painting the walls? seriously? it was silly. even if you disregard how WRONG it is, for him to do that, for him to throw that little bit of whole away, it was just silly! like, the walls didn’t need to be repainted! there were a few scratches, a few places where the paint peeled, dents and stuff, but like. not enough for such a practical thing like the mind to bother repainting it when he has so much better to do! he was working on a song. i think be born? i don’t know why he chose be born, we don’t like be born, as you would expect from every tally hall fan ever. anyway, so he was working on a cover of be born, i saw the sheets. he uses these really tidy sheets, mechanical pencil. it fits him. such a minute detail, it seems to fit. of course he would use a mechanical pencil. a normal pencil isn’t dignified enough, i guess. and a pen isn’t erasable which sucks when you’re doing something like music. why is he working off of sheet music anyway? it confuses me. i got sidetracked.

so he has better things to do, and yet, he was repainting the walls? he didn’t even ask me, just kind of snatched my hand. it was really like something heart would do. he was getting into my space, just kind of arranged me on his bed, and i didn’t go. i don’t know why i didn’t go, i could’ve. i’m far stronger than him - that is to say, he’s a weak motherfucker who loses in any kind of fair fight. but i just sat there, staring as mind’s blue slowly overtook whole’s color. it felt like a metaphor, and not a pretty one.

did mind want to eradicate whole so thoroughly? fucking fool’s errand, but heart and mind are fools, mind’s just a bit more subtle about it. usually, when he’s not forcing me to watch him repaint his room. his room. it’s whole’s room, truly. whole’s walls, and it was whole’s color. mind doesn’t get it. he thinks he can do whatever he wants. even heard heart calling him dawn the other day. i detest it! like, truly detest it. it’s so stupid. dawn? what was he saying, he is the dawn? when the sun rises? beginnings, golden light spilling through his window? oh, look out your window and see me? HE DOESN’T DESERVE A NAME. AND CERTAINLY NOT ONE LIKE THAT. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. that is not the beginning. what about whole? what about Him? it’s as if heart doesn’t care. and maybe he doesn’t. i’m SORRY i tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. cause i looked at his feathers and thought, just for a little halfsecond, oh. maybe there is a chance after all. but no! those two are so obstinant i want to claw my own skin off. so arrogant? you think you deserve a name? wearing stolen faces.

{what are you trying to show me,} i had asked mind, cause i know he would be doing that - that’s just what the mind does. nothing without purpose. he tapped the paintbrush on the wall. the paintbrush splattered a bit. it struck me. not as neat as he usually is. in fact, that’s something the heart would do. regardless, i was sitting there, just waiting. maybe he hadn’t logicked this out after all. maybe he just wanted to see me? ha. i hope not. [change.] is what he returned. [i can change these walls.] there was a breath. i’d say He was taking one too. it doesn’t quite make sense, in those words, but that was the feeling i had. i could hear Him. and mind was shutting him out. [and you can too.] he was obviously really hesitant with it, immediately turning back to the wall as if avoiding my expression. what did he think i would think? {oh, you’re so right mind. thanks for showing me this.} HA. i tried to leave. his desperation surprised me. [just hear me out. just hear me out,] and he was barely skirting around the please, as if i wouldn’t notice. [you’ll see.] something in it convinced me. he was pleading to something that would never listen, and yet he went on pleading. it doesn’t matter what it was about it, cause next time i’ll make sure i’m not convinced by it again.

but it was just him and me and his little art project, so i sat down. of course, i wasn’t convinced. but a smile was twitching at his lips, as if this was a little win. war of attrition. but i refuse to break down - pity for him, isn’t that.

#twig.txt #brainrot.exe #mi pali e ni #mi pali e sitelen #< i guesss

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 6 months

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Hello, I hope you don't mind if I share a weird headcanon of mine 👉👈

I normally see people talking about Kakyoin make drawing about you but what if Jotaro does that too? The reason I have this headcanon because I remember the scene when Jotaro using Star Platinum drawing the fly he saw in the picture, and he draw it so well. It makes me think that maybe Jotaro has talent in art too. Jotaro's style will be realistic style while Kakyoin will be more like cartoon/anime style.

Imagine their sketchbook filling with so many drawing of you 💕 Jotaro will watching you from afar, sketching you with your cute smile, your beautiful eyes, he captured it all. For Kakyoin, I think he will even make up characters (oc) that look like you and him and ship them together lol (this headcanon inspried by my friend, she actually do that with her crush).

Thank you for reading my ramble, glad to talk with you :D I would love to hear your thoughts about my weird headcanon

P/s: Love you writing so muchhhh 💝

This is fun stuff, I could eat it up all day. Thanks for sending it in, so I can blabber my mouth about it

This always internally bugged me so I’m very thrilled that someone brought up how well Star Platinum drew that fly. I suppose it’s kind of easy to gloss over for a lot of people compared to Kakyoin’s scene of painting on that canvas. (Then again that fly was kind of important to identify to figure out where Dio was so then again it’s “???” for an explanation)

Anywho, I’d say signs point to Jotaro being able to draw, and I think it’s a hobby he prefers keeping to himself. Like you said of him having a sketchbook, almost no one sees what he draws in it and he doesn’t want anyone else to see it especially if it’s various sketches of you. So more than likely when he does do so, he’s somewhere where he won’t be pestered by school girls, or whatever punk tries to start a fight with him.

I’d also like to think he goes back and lingers on prior stuff, just staring at it for a little while. This applies usually when you’re out of school sick (which he’ll probably stop by later anyway with or without your knowledge). But there’s something comforting about seeing every piece of your visage in his sketchbook. Literally no one else knows about this sketchbook aside from maybe Kakyoin (Holly has her suspicions he takes a sketchbook around but she smiles not pestering her son on his hobbies as she thinks it’s adorable).

For the most part art wise I think Jotaro sticks to traditional art, maybe a dabble of charcoal but he prefers pencils. Maybe watercolor if he ever went beyond, but traditional with pencil/pen is the easiest way for him to pull something out at his leisure. Would he let you see? Maybe eventually when he gets you where he wants you, or if the cat is out of the bag early and you see it and you’re not quite with him yet. Let’s just say seeing that may speed up him taking you.

Kakyoin I could definitely see diving into the oc type of thing, he’d certainly reference an artstyle of a manga you like. (Don’t ask how he figured that out so quickly). Though he definitely loves putting some passion into his artwork and occasionally shamelessly make sultry artwork of you and himself. He loves painting the most as he spreads colors, mixing them into the wondrous hues that is your skin tone. Or splashing watercolors in a notebook, that looks something out of a fairytale. Soft and warm lighting….oops he’s getting a tad bit excited.

He definitely presents pieces that are obviously meant to be stand ins for the two of you. That no one else would ever be wiser too, yeah you might have this odd feeling something’s not quite right, but there’s nothing there you could really prove other than observe just how pretty the composition is. If you compliment it, that just fuels this man’s desire further.

Biggest takeaway here is Jotaro and Kakyoin very blatantly have their own styles whether sticking with black/white/grey, or full on color. Both would be pretty in their own right, and their style choices speak of their personalities without saying a single word.

#yandere imagines #yandere jjba #yandere jjba imagines #chitchatwithcrazyyandere #yandere headcanons #yandere kakyoin #yandere jotaro

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burninlovebutler · 2 years

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Candy Hearts ♡

pairing: sub!austin x fem-dom!reader | word count: 7.6k-ish

warnings: FLUFF, smut, stuttering, subby shy giggly artist!austin, handjob, praise kink, oral (f receiving), squirting, humiliation kink, straight sadism lol, name calling, forced o, multiple o’s, overstimulation, little-esque?, 18+ MDNI

summary: you decide to give your shy, artsy chemistry partner a chance when he asks you to be his valentine. after his creative date surprised you, you invite him over for a movie and… snacks.

see my masterlist for all other fics ♡

disclaimer: for vday i wanted to challenge myself because as most of you know, fluff is not my forte lol so not only was writing with NO angst a challenge but also one shots aren’t my favorite to write & so i feel as though it is not my best work 😅 pls keep that in mind & don’t judge too harshly 😅👉🏻👈🏻 hope you enjoy anyway! (also late, kinda rushed, didn't use my thesaurus for this one lol sorry 😅)

vibes: candy hearts playlist ♡

⋆⁺₊⋆ i’d be your stars,

and you’d be my little moon ☾

-little moon - mackenzie bourg

You tapped a gel pen against the tall wooden desk you were sat at, waiting for class to start. Your cheek rested in your palm propped up by your elbow and your eyes threatened to doze off at the monotony of the 7 pm Thursday chemistry class.

The small, shy boy who had been assigned as your partner for semester was the only highlight of the horrendous class. He was quite entertaining, both because of how endearing his timid fumbling was and how easily you could fluster him. You knew he had a thing for you, but you never pursued anything, even though he was exactly your type. You simply didn’t think he could handle you, he seemed too inexperienced.

The slender boy finally rushed in just minutes before class was supposed to start. His paint-covered baby yellow Kanken backpack was busting with supplies, art brushes, sketchbooks, colored pencils in metal containers, even a small canvas or two. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell he was an art major – hell just looking at him told you he was an art major. The curly haired blonde wore a striped long sleeved shirt with the cuffs covering his hands.

“Hi y/n.” He said shyly, plopping his backpack on the ground.

“Hey Austin.” You smiled a little at the scene in front of you, you couldn’t help but find him absolutely adorable.

“So- uh-“ His voice carrying a nervous tremble and fidgeted slightly with his thumbs, “Um, I was wondering if I could show you something after class?”

You propped up a brow, “Oh? What is it that you have to show me?”

“Well- uh, I- um,” He fumbled, “I kinda need an opinion on something.” He ended quickly.

You eyed him but before you were able to question him further your professor began and he was a hardass about anyone interrupting class, he’d even lock the door if you were late.

Class ended around 9 pm and the impromptu plans with Austin had nearly escaped your mind, until his anxious voice informed you, “It’s uh, in the art lab, if you wanna follow me?”

“Sure.” You nodded lightly, curious as to what he’d possibly want your opinion on. You were a communications major and hadn’t ever taken an art class. You barely even knew where the art wing was.

He led you through hallways and courtyards, barely saying a word to you, just very determined to reach his destination. You followed him cautiously observing him, the way his fingers would play with the tail of the backpack strap, a hand in his pocket then out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Whatever he was showing you was definitely making him nervous.

He walked you into an empty room, littered with half-finished canvases, drying clay pots, mannequins, prop fruits and the air was heavy with paint fumes.

“Wow, it’s really cool in here.” You commented gazing over the mesmerizing room.

He didn’t reply and just kept walking towards the back of the room where it seemed to be the pottery section. When he reached the second shelf of finished pottery projects, he stood in front of it. “So- um- I’m sorry in advance if this is weird.”

Your brows curved at his words, silently praying it wasn’t going to be something gross. He swiveled around, picked something up, held it for a second before turning around. Rosy flush filled his cheeks as he handed you a short but wide heart-shaped cylindrical container. It was a light lavender color, resembling the color of a candy heart.

You carefully took the cup-like sculpture, giving him a questioning look.

“I uh- um, look inside.” He said shyly, bringing sweater-covered hand to his mouth chewing on his thumbnail.

You peered inside the cup and in candy heart-font said, ‘Be mine?’

“I was w-wondering if you’d maybe, want to be, ya know, my v-valentine?” He stuttered out, “I know it’s kinda lame and you probably hate valentine’s day-“

“Yes.” You said simply with a gentle smile.

“It’s okay I underst- wait, yes?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, this is the cutest thing anyone’s ever given me.”

“Oh,” He blushed and went to bring his covered hand to block his face but stopped himself, bringing it down to fidget, “Um, it’s a pen holder.” He clarified.

“A pen holder?” You questioned with a little laugh.

“Yeah, well I noticed you use a lot of colored pens in class so… I thought you might need something to keep them on your desk.” He bit down on his lip to hide a smile.

A wide grin tugged at your lips, maybe this one had potential afterall. “Well, that’s quite thoughtful of you Austin.” You continued inspecting the inside of the cup, noticing some extra sketches inside, “What are those?” You tilted the pot to him, the sight intensifying the redness in his cheeks.

“O-Oh, um, they’re beakers…because you know we’re in chemistry class…” He trailed off, “I know it’s really lame I’m sorry I just thought-“

You giggled and placed a finger to his lips, “Sh, I think it’s cute.”

“You do?” He looked at you with the bluest, cutest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” Your lips curling into a beam. “Well, what are we doing for the date then Valentine?” Emphasizing the name thinking he’d probably like the reassurance.

“O-Oh well- I,” He fumbled to swing his full backpack off his one shoulder, unzipping the pouch and digging around until he found what he searched for. He held out two voucher type papers, “I thought maybe we could go to this pottery class? It’s like a w-wine and pottery type thing… I don’t k-know if you even drink b-but yeah, in case you did, I don’t know I thought you m-might like it.” His nerves clear in his increased stutter. The stuttering wasn’t new, he had one even when he was calm. But it got worse when he was nervous, like before a quiz or an experiment, and especially during presentations. You often had to take over explaining the slides for him since it got so bad. You didn’t mind though, science wasn’t his strong suit. Makes sense for a right-brain artsy individual.

“Sure, it sounds like fun.” You held the glazed clay close to your chest, knowing you it was in danger of getting dropped and you didn’t wanna risk breaking it. “I look forward to it.” You leaned over and pressed a tiny kiss to his cheek.

He bit down on his lip and nodded, “Cool.”

Valentine’s Day came and you arrived to the pottery place that was hidden away in a quaint part of town you’d never been before. You waited outside, leaning against the wall. There was a bit of a buzz in your tummy, maybe you were more excited for this date than you thought. There was a gift hidden behind you to surprise him with.

Finally, you noticed the small boy making his way to you – curled up cuffed jeans, black converse, and a slightly nicer blue sweater with a white collar peeking out beneath it. “Hi y/n.” He smiled shyly, even shier than normal. You questioned whether he’d even been on a date before. He pulled his arms from behind his back, holding out a single rose and a large box of luxurious looking chocolates. “I-I didn’t know what kinda chocolates you liked s-so I got you a variety pack.”

The sight of him was so endearing, his long shaggy blonde hair, his nervously restrained smile and pink freckly cheeks, it sent a flutter in your chest. “That’s very sweet of you Austin.” A toothy grin laid claim across your face, “I got you something too.” Bringing your arm out from behind your back, offering a teddy bear wearing a sweater that resembled many that he wore.

His face lit up, “O-Oh my goodness!” He beamed. You took the presents he got you so that he could take the bear he so evidently wanted to scoop up. He immediately stole the bear and squeezed it, “Thank you so much! He’s so cute, I love him.”

You chuckled, “I’m glad you like him. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Oh oh, I do I do I do!”

Once inside the glaring white art studio, you both were separated. At first this seemed odd as it was valentine’s day, you figured you’d be working together. But the instructor explained this was to give you the opportunity to make something unique for each other. So, you threw on the provided smock and were placed across the room from each other.

As you looked around the room you noticed the room was filled with couples significantly older than you both. People your age were probably out clubbing trying to get laid or having “anti-valentine’s day” parties. But when you searched across all the middle-aged pairs, you spotted your date – your 21 year old shy chemistry partner – laughing it up with the grandma-esque art instructor.

A smile tugged at your lips watching the interaction, the normally fairly quiet boy was the most comfortable and animated that you’d ever seen him. You were too far to hear what they were talking about but just from his focused mannerisms and confident demeanor, he was definitely consulting with the sweet old lady about whatever project he was planning. The familiarity between them made it clear that he was a regular there. She was so gentle with him, just like a grandma.

When he caught you watching him, you expected him to blush or hide but instead gave you a raised brow, ‘I caught ya’ look. You didn’t know why but you immediately felt a fuzzy feeling in your tummy mimicking embarrassment and pretended you weren’t actually looking at him. There was a slight uptick in your heartbeat when you realized he was walking towards you and you hadn’t even touched the lump of clay in front of you.

“How ya doin’?” He asked and you swore you could almost hear a tease in his tone. He caught you- clay handed.

You let out a nervous chuckle, “I uh- I don’t really know where to get started.”

“Well, I could help.” He beamed, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his arms covered in clay marks.

“Sure.” You nodded with a tightlipped smile. “I just, I can’t do art like- at all.”

He waved away the notion and rounded your seat, “Everyone’s an artist.” He stated before his hands finding your own and guiding them to the mass of clay. His touch sparked an electricity on your skin and made you hyperaware of every place your bodies intersected. His arms molded around you from behind placing them on the medium, “Okay so, step on the pedal a little.” He instructed and the confidence in his voice erupted goosebumps across your body.

The tabletop began to rotate when you barely tapped on the pedal, his hands gently pressing yours into the wet clay. “I um, I think I wanna make something small.” You said just low enough for him to hear.

“Okay sure.” He moved his thumbs into yours, shaving the edges off the clay to size it down. “You just gotta remember to keep it wet.” You didn’t even think he caught on, but blood was rushing to your cheeks.

He stepped away from you, wiping the gray excess off on his smock, “You think you got it?”

“Oh- Oh yeah, I got it. Thank you.” You gave him a little smile and he replied with a wide one before he shuffled away back to his project.

You followed his instructions and kept withering the lump down until it was a tiny mound. You scraped it off the plate shaped it into a small heart with a tiny loop at the top. The pad of your thumb curved a divot into the heart and painted it a dark brown. The clay was fast air drying so that you’d be able to take your creations home the same day.

For the finishing touch, you dug into your pocket to find a crystal you snuck in and carefully pressed it into the groove. Before the date you had visited your favorite crystal shop searching for a gem that reminded you of him. In the search you stumbled across a stone called Larimar, that did just that. It had varying shades of light blue with cracking white stripes throughout that made it look like the clear blue ocean waters you only ever see in postcards from exotic islands.

You didn’t realize the class was ending until you heard the clamor of people cleaning up, suddenly relieved that you had rushed through the beginning.

When you noticed him walking towards you, you promptly hid the pendant behind your back. He was doing the same, hiding his creation behind him. Before you could even argue at who was going first he brought his out.

Your eyes widened when you saw a sculpted bear about the size of a cell phone. It was almost identical to the stuffed bear you had given him earlier, only the sweater this one wore matched the blue striped one Austin was wearing. He blushed and offered it up to you, “I didn’t want you to go bear-less, I’m sure he kept you company before you gave him to me.”

The gesture softened you in ways you didn’t even know was possible. Nobody had ever made you feel that way, no one had ever been so thoughtful.

“Oh my gosh, thank you.” Letting out a tiny gasp when you took it with your freehand, bringing up to your eyeline to appreciate the detail. Every little hair was carved, every weave of the sweater pattern, even the teeny curves of its eyes all so precise and perfect. “How did you do this in such a short amount of time?”

He looked down and kicked his feet a little, “Well I, I been kinda working on it all week.” Mumbling down with his hand linked behind him, “Um,” He turned his shoulders a bit behind him to gesture to the older instructer, “Ethel was helping me with it. I wanted it to be perfect.” He shrugged.

Your brows curved together, “But I just gave you the bear today?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, that’s why I was so excited when you gave it to me – well besides that it was cute, and I love stuffies. But I was already working on a bear for you. I just added the sweater today though, because yours had one. It inspired me.” His teeth tugging his lip resisting a smile.

“Well, this just isn’t fair.” You huffed dramatically and his eyes instantly filled with worry that you didn’t like it. “I didn’t have a whole week, and all I could come up was this.” Bringing your hand out keeping the heart hidden in your hand before opening it up for him. “It’s not nearly as good – I, like I said me and art we just-“

He stole the pendant from your hand and looked at it in awe, “I love it.” He said softly, gently running his thumb over the stone. “Where did you get this crystal? It’s so pretty.”

“I well- I picked it out at a crystal shop. It made me think of you.” Bringing your shoulders to a shrug and your free hand to scratch your other arm. “It reminded me of your eyes, I guess.”

The corners of his lips couldn’t have gotten wider as he held the charm against his chest, “Ah y/n, this is so nice.” He pulled it out to look at it again then looking up at you with big bright blues, the same ones that resembled the stone. “Really, really nice. I love it.”

You chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you like it. I really love my bear.”

He pressed his lips together, “Really!”

“Yeah, you know, I was really gonna miss him.” You smiled sweetly at him.

A tiny excited squeak escaped him, “Oh I’m so happy you like him!”

You were lingering outside your cars making small talk trying to prolong your time together when you figured you might as well take the plunge. “Well, would you like to come over to my dorm?” You asked, not really expecting anything out of him but the night had gone so well you didn’t want it to end.

“I uh- yeah sure!” He tugged at his lip and nodded.

You twisted the key to your home and pushed it open, revealing the messy single dorm. “Sorry for the mess, I uh- didn’t expect anyone over.”

He chuckled looking around, like he was genuinely curious at your living area, “It’s okay, my dorm is covered in canvases always so, I get it.” He walked around then you heard a small squeak from him.

“You okay?” You asked from across the room, thinking something was wrong but he looked at you with a giant grin, “You put my pen holder on your desk!” He gushed. “That’s nice. Really nice.” Bringing his sleeved hand to his mouth, biting down on his thumbnail.

“Oh, yeah of course. I love it.” You gave him a sweet smile, “Which reminds me,” walking over to where you placed your purse down, and pulling out the heavily wrapped gift. You precariously unwrapped the packing paper and placed the clay bear next to the pencil holder, “I had to put him out.” You beamed and leaned over to his grinning face, placing a quick peck on his cheek. It seemed as though he might explode, not knowing how to respond.

You began walking to the kitchenette, “You want something to drink?”

“W-water if you got it?”

“Yeah of course I have water you weirdo.” You teased, opening your mini fridge and taking out two water bottles. Walking over and handing him one, “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure!” He replied, accepting the water bottle and cracking the cap off, “What kinda movies do you like?” He inquired, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a quick sip. It wasn’t until then that you noticed just how plump his lips were.

“I like scary movies!” Then realizing he didn’t seem like the type to like them, he was much too skittish. The immediate widened eyes confirmed that theory.

“Oh uh-“ He forced a smile, “I like scary movies, we can watch a scary movie if you want.”

You raised a brow at him, “You sure?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded, “Mhm!”

“Okay…” You analyzed him. Normally, if your relationship was deeper, you’d know to pick up on his obvious hesitation and choose another option. But, you thought this would be a good test. Part of your hesitancy of pursuing him first was the idea that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with you. You had a preference of dating subbier-type men and he read that way but you didn’t know much about him yet, you had no knowledge about his past experiences or interests, or if he even was a ‘sub’, or if he was just a shy inexperienced man.

So, this scary movie would be a test to see where he stood, how he’d react. You weren’t cruel though, you would pick a pretty calm slasher film and of course you’d turn it off he really didn’t enjoy it.

You plopped onto your grey suede couch and noticed he just stood there, like he was unsure of what he was supposed to do. You chuckled and patted the seat next to you, “Well are ya gonna come sit down silly?”

“Oh-Oh yeah of course!” He quickly shuffled over to you and gently sat beside you, further than you would’ve liked.

You flipped through the options on Netflix and chose one of the later, less good Halloween movies. You felt him tense up even in the opening scenes but as the movie progressed, you inched closer to him. There was a blanket slung over the back of the couch and draped it over the two of you. It was appropriately themed pink with hearts. You figured if he was afraid, he could use it to hide in.

The blanket plan worked, not only did it give him some comfort, but it also allowed him to discretely scoot closer to you. His hip now flush against yours as he curled the blanket close to his chest, his eyes glued to the screen horrified. It was kind of adorable his reactions were, gripping the blanket and jolting a bit during intense scenes.

In a particularly frightening jump scare scene, he covered his face with the blanket and jumped so far up he landed partially in your lap. Deep red filled his cheeks when you curled your arm around his waist pulling him completely into your lap. “You okay? We can turn it off if you want?”

He brought his sleeve up to cover his mouth, “Um…m-maybe we take a break?” He suggested even though you knew the answer was yes.

“Okay, that’s fine.” You replied calmly and paused the movie behind him. “Would you like to stay here for a bit?” Referencing his spot in your lap.

“Y-Yeah, is that okay?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah sure, of course.” Curling your hand around his waist and pulling him closer, “Would you like me to play some music? Is there something that is calming for you?”

“Uh- You can’t make fun of me.” He dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

“I would never.” You reassured.

“Okay, um, I like classical music? Like Beethoven?”

“What! Why would make fun of you for that?”

He shrugged, “I dunno, because it’s not, ya know popular now.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “C’mon now.” Picking up your phone and connecting to your Alexa to play a classical mix playlist. You could physically feel the immediate relief the music brought him.

“So, classical huh?” You softly reached around him to bring the fallen blanket back around his shoulders.

“Thanks,” He gave you the tiniest smile and took the edges to fully cocoon him, “Yeah, I listen to it while I’m painting… it kinda-“ He shook his head, “Nevermind it’s really stupid.” Pulling the blanket tighter around him.

“No, no c’mon, you can tell me?” You pressed in a delicate tone.

“It’s just- When I listen to classical music when I paint, I guess it inspires me? It makes me feel like one of the greats ya know?” His baby blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them before. His voice was clear and excited, not stuttery and shy like normal. “Like what was Van Gogh listening to when he painted ‘Starry Night’?” Once he picked up on his evident excitement he backtracked, waving away the words he’d just said, “Sorry- Sorry I know it’s lame.”

A wide smile tugged at your lips, “No, it’s not.” Gently finding his wrist over the blanket and gave him a tiny squeeze, “I think it’s really cool that you’re so connected to your art like that, I just, yeah. I really like hearing you talk about it.”

He pressed his lips together, wrapping one arm around himself and keeping the one you held still under your touch.

“You’re pretty cute you know that?” You tugged you lip between your teeth, almost excited to see his reaction.

As expected, he turned tomato red, “Oh- thank you.” He said shyly, “You’re really pretty.”

The words returned the flutter from earlier, you didn’t expect this date to go anywhere but you really weren’t prepared for the churning in your tummy from the tiny things he did.

“Thanks darlin’” You took a leap and grazed the back of your hand against his cheek. The slight nerves of thinking he would retract faded when he just blushed and nudged his face a bit against your touch. You followed the natural inclination to tangle your fingers into his blonde curls and scratched his head lightly. He only leaned into your touch more, closing his eyes and letting out a small happy noise.

“Hey, I forgot I got some valentine’s day candy if you want some?” You asked, pulling your hand from his hair.

He seemed disappointed at first, then quickly perked back up at the mention of candy. “Sure!”

“Okay,” You brought your tongue between your lips as you strained to stretch across the couch to the side table with Austin still in your lap. He only giggled at your difficulty but didn’t intend to move his comfortable position. Amidst your struggle, you were finally able to pick up the glass bowl that held a mix of holiday candy. “Here, take your pick.” You offered the bowl to him.

He used his finger to careful move the candy around, very seriously focused on finding the perfect choice. Finally, he plucked a small baggie of candy conversation hearts and gave you a little smile to indicate he’d made his choice.

You chuckled at the precision of his extraction then mimicked his actions, finding a red heart-shaped lollipop. While Austin was distracted by his delicate opening of the teeny clear envelope of his candy hearts, you were carefully freeing the red lolli from it’s plastic covering.

He popped a lavender heart into his mouth and looked up at you appearing content with the flavor, the edges of his mouth curled in a way that accentuated his cheekbones. The moment he saw you drawing the candy from your lips, his demeanor changed. His gaze stayed on the lolly each time you slid it out through your closed lips.

You noticed this and took it as an opportunity to see just how flustered you could make the shy boy. When you opened your mouth, you slowly glided the sugary confection down your tongue, then using the tip to swirl around it. He visibly gulped and pulled the blanket around him fully, shifting a bit in your lap.

You smirked knowing the power you held over him over something as small as a candy. Dragging the lolly down the length of your tongue again, you held it out to him, “Want a taste?”

His eyes widened and cheeks burning red realizing he’d been caught, “I-I um, I just, uh-“

You leaned forward slightly and tapped the candy on his bottom lip, “Open up for me?”

He stilled completely, looking at you wide eyed and hesitated before obeying. He hesitantly took the lolly in his mouth, wrapping his lips around the base. You kept hold of the stem and could feel his tongue move around it, the feeling alone was enough fill your core with butterflies. He pulled off the candy and looked at you as if asking for further direction.

“Good boy.” You said softly and kept eye contact with him as you took the heart back in your mouth, sucking all of his saliva off of it. He began to squirm again. Your fingers followed the edge of the blanket and attempted to tug it open, but he tightened his grip on it. “C’mon baby let me see you.”

He shook his head vehemently, “No-no.” His hand found yours though and guided it up his thigh beneath the blanket. “Only under- if-if you want.” He whispered.

“Okay.” You nodded and followed up his thigh to find a bulge covered by his jeans.

He writhed the moment you landed on the bulge he’d been hiding from you. You pulled him closer in your lap and began peppering kisses along his neck while palming him over his jeans, “Is this what you’re squirmin’ about?” Whispering just under his ear.

“Sh.” He whined, hips slowly rutting against your hand, “Needy.”

You let out a low chuckle at his choice of words, “I see that.”

A sharp gasp escaped him once you pulled his skin into your mouth beginning to form a dark bruise. “You’re so hard for me baby.” Quietly against the darkened mark. “You’re this hard over a piece of candy?”

“M-mhm.” He whimpered softly.

“Mmm.” You hummed against his neck, beginning to unzip his pants and slipping your hand over his boxers. “You wish that lolly was your cock?”

He let out a loud whine and rolled his hips against your hand even faster desperate for friction. “Please.”

“Please what darlin?” Your motion on his stiff member agonizingly slow.

He whimpered and you already felt precum seeping through his underwear. “C’mon use your words for me?”

He kept speechless but he was writhing under your touch and tiny quiet sobs fell from his lips.

“Hmm.” You dragged your hand up to the band of his boxers, slipping a finger beneath it, “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?” You whispered under his ear.

“Y-yes!” He squeaked immediately, “I um- please touch me.”

You smirked, “See? That wasn’t so hard.” Pulling the band over his hard member, it already twitching from your proximity. You began leaving sloppy kisses over his neck while dragging a finger up his length.

He whined, “Please.” Begging again and bucking a bit into your hand.

You chuckled against his neck, “You really are so needy huh?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, letting out a tiny moan when you began sucking marks into his skin.

“I’m gonna mark you up, so everyone in class can know how big of a slut you are.” You mumbled against his skin beginning to pump his cock slowly in your hand.

Whines started pouring from his lips, “Ah! No-no I don’t want them to know! I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Hmm,” Working on an even darker hickey, “You know what’s even more embarrassing?” Your hand picking up speed on his member, driving him crazy in your lap. “That they’ll know who gave them to you, who you belong to.”

“B-Belong?” He asked you wide eyed and innocent.

“Mhm.” Hooking your index under his chin and pressing your lips into his, “Mine. You like the sound of that?”

His cheeks reddened more than you thought possible and you’d never seen anyone look so cute while getting jacked off. “Mhm. Yeah, I like that.” He nodded cutely.

“Good,” Placing another quick kiss on his lips, “Now be a good boy and spit for me.” You brought your hand up to his mouth. He obeyed and spit into your palm, the sight of him with drool dripping from his plump lip was enough to pool wetness into your panties. “Fuck you’re so pretty.”

“Sh.” He hushed, shifting in your lap so that each knee was around your hips then hiding in your neck. “You’re making me all… I dunno.” He nuzzled his nose into the curve of your shoulder.

Your heart fluttered at his reaction to your praise and only fueled your work on him. “Such a good boy.” Your hand having a better rhythm with the help of his spit. His hips were bucking into your hand wildly, letting sobs fill your ears.

He decided to copy you and start trailing kisses up your neck, cause you to suck in a breath not expecting the sensation that his lips burned into your skin. He swirled his tongue just under your ear, growing the pulsing in your clit. You needed his tongue on you.

He whined loudly, “I-I’m close.”

In preparation you brought your shirt up to just under your bust, to make sure he wouldn’t spill on it. “Okay, cum for me?” It earned you some even louder moans, but then remembered his reaction from earlier, “My pretty baby, won’t you be a good boy and give me your cum?”

His rutting in your fist became sloppy and erratic, his whines filling your living room completely. Then one final thrust did him over, shooting milky stripes across your stomach. His head lulled against your shoulder, his breathing rapid obviously spent by the endeavor.

You smiled down at him and kissed his cheek, “You were so good for me.” You whispered and he gave you a lazy smile. Your hand tangled in his hair giving his head a little scratch and as predicted, his eyes fluttered closed with a content tightlipped smile.

Once he came back down from his high, a light pink filled his cheeks when he noticed the mess he made. “I’m sorry I… did that on you.”

“It’s alright.” You said calmly, “But I want you to clean up your mess.”

His eyes widened, “I um- I can get some paper towels or-“

“No baby, I meant with your tongue.” You clarified with a mischievous sneer.

“Oh- um okay.” He nodded but before he could move off of you, you cupped his chin, “The mess on my tummy is not the only one you caused. I want you to clean that one up too.”

His breath hitched looking stunned but nodded obediently. He dismounted from you while you slid your shorts off and shifted to lay sideways on the couch facing him then spreading your legs in front of him. “Well what are ya waitin for darlin?”

He eyed the mess on your stomach seemingly hesitant but surprised you when he leaned down beginning to swipe up his own cum with his tongue. The feeling of his tongue just inches above your core set a rampant buzzing in your clit.

When he was done, he sat back on his legs and stared at your core in awe, like it was some gourmet meal. You noticed that he was hard again in his boxers. “Aw, are you hard again?”

He nodded, “Yes. I’m sorry.” Hanging his head in embarrassment.

“Come here.” You instructed with a curled index towards you. When he move over you at your command, you cupped his cheek. “You wanna tell me what made you hard again?”

He shook his head but kept his cheek glued to your hand. “Was it just from looking at my pussy?”

“A little, yeah.” He said tugging at his lip and keep his eyes diverted, indicating there was something else.

You perked a brow up trying to think of what it could be before a devious smirk spread across your lips, “Was it because I made you clean up your mess?”

Deep rouge returned to his cheeks, “U-uh… Embarrassed.” He muttered into your palm.

“Hmm. Does that happen a lot when you’re embarrassed?” By the way he nuzzled and hid his face in your palm and his cock noticeably twitch in his boxers answered your question.

“I’m sorry just- I can’t help it.” He mumbled.

“You don’t gotta be sorry baby.” You said softly, “Here’s the deal, if you make me cum, I might let you cum again.”

His eyes lit up, “You’d let me cum again?”

“Mhm, if you’re a good boy. But I have some rules.”

“Okay?”

“Rule #1, you can’t cum without my permission.” He nodded, “Rule #2, this time, if I let you cum, it has to be without your hands.”

His look mixed with fear and confusion, “Huh?”

“If you’re gonna cum again, you’re gonna have to do it while humping the couch. In your boxers.” You stated

“W-What?”

“You heard me. Now do you wanna cum or not?”

He nodded quickly, “Yes ma’am.” Then beginning to shift down but you caught his jaw with your hand, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“Are you okay with this? You like when I tell you what to do?” Realizing maybe you got carried away and wanted to check in to make sure you were on the same page.

He gave you an excited and reassuring smile, coming back up to meet your lips. “Mhm. Like it a lot.” Nudging your nose with his. You felt him about to pull away but something in you wanted just a bit more of it, bringing your hands up to his cheeks drawing him into a deeper kiss.

His kiss was gentle but not stiff, tenderly danced his lips against yours. You swiped his bottom lip for entrance, and he obliged opening for you. You tangled your fingers into his long blonde hair and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. You strategically tightened your legs around him so that his covered tip would tease at your entrance causing a sharp gasp from him. “Fuck.” He moaned against your lips.

You giggled in satisfaction, holding his face in your hands, “If at any point you want to stop or you’re uncomfortable just say…” Trying to think of something to use as a safe word but he answered for you.

“Candy heart!” He perked up with a little giggle which made your heart soar at how cute he was, even when you were about to torture him. “That way I can show you one or point if… I can’t talk or something.” It made you wonder if that was some shy way of hinting at some other kink.

You smiled wide, “Okay, Candy Heart it is then.” Lifting up to kiss him again, “Now be a good boy and eat my pussy will you?”

His eyes widened a bit and quickly moved down between your legs, lying flat against the sofa. He spread your lips apart then leaned down to kitten lick at your swollen nub and it felt like heaven. “Fuck,” You breathed out, tangling your fingers into his shaggy hair, pushing him further into you. He let out a moan at your taste.

It didn’t take long for him to start rutting against the couch, which reminded you of another condition. “Oh yeah, there’s another rule.” You smirked when he looked up at you, fear in his eyes. “You’re not allowed to stop until I say so – that includes your humping.”

His eyes widened at your words, pulling away from you, “B-but, I-I’m gonna get close.”

“That’s not my problem. If you cum without permission, there’ll be a price to pay.” He hesitantly nodded.

His whines increased as he lapped up your juices trying his best to get you to finish, his ruts against the couch a bit too slow for your liking.

“Faster.” You demanded and he sped up on your clit. You firmly grasped his hair, “Not on me.”

He whimpered, pulling away from you, your juices slathered all over his mouth and chin. “But I-I’m close.” He sobbed.

“Not my problem.” Shoving his face back into your core needing his tongue back. His rutting increased slightly accompanied by small desperate cries.

“Faster.”

He whined loudly, “I can’t! I’ll cum!”

His absolute desperation was driving you towards your climax, you loved seeing him like that. “You cum, you’ll regret it. That’s a promise. Now faster.”

He fucked himself against the couch, whines and whimpers vibrating against your clit and it was driving you fucking crazy. “Such a pretty little slut.” Combing through his hair to see him better. His eyes scrunching closed obviously struggling to keep it together.

“Faster.”

“I can’t! I can’t! I’m gonna cum!”

“You’re gonna disobey me? Or you’re gonna be a good boy?”

He listened, fucking himself faster against the cushion. His entire body was trembling teetering on the edge of his precipice. You were right there too, just at the edge. The sight of him struggling turned you on in ways you never even know you could reach.

“Faster.” You breathed out, your chest heaving.

“I c-can’t!” He cried into your core.

“I didn’t fucking ask.”

He sped up, “Fuck! I’m gonna cum!”

“Hold it.” You warned.

“I’m gonna cum!”

“Hold it.” You growled through your teeth.

“I-I can’t i’m gonna- i’m gonna cum, I-I-“ Loud moans poured against you and his body tensed up, releasing once more into his boxers. But his tongue never stopped working on you.

The absolute pure desperation of him drove you into your own climax, your moans matching his, rolling your hips into his mouth. His incessant swirling of his tongue pushed you even further, just from how much the entire scene turned you on. Euphoria washed over you, sending tingles even down to your toes. But he still didn’t stop.

“What a good boy.” You groaned, keeping a tight fist in his hair with your thighs clamped around his head. “You don’t stop til I say so.” He was completely in your control, obviously making up for his mistake. His tongue felt so good on you, which answered your question from before – if he’d ever been on a date. There was no way this was the first time he’d ever done anything, his tongue was too fucking skilled to be an amateur. And the way he obeyed you? Listened to you? Begged? He was an expert.

He kept eating you, not too fast and not too slow, just right. Just enough to edge you towards another orgasm. “Fuck.” You practically growled out feeling the buzzing build in your clit again. He looked up at you with round, submissive blue eyes – another indicator that he was no novice. He had picked up on your weaknesses and he knew just how to use them on someone dominant like you. Those big puppy dog eyes and the small curve of his brows that communicated, ‘I’m sorry, I’m all yours to do what you want with, I want to make you feel good’. And it worked, the sight of him at your mercy did you in. The knot in your stomach unraveled and you felt your own cum release all over his face, but he didn’t stop, just like you said. “Fuck!” You cried, arching your back off the couch sharply. He kept devouring you and it was like your orgasm didn’t end, just prolonged. You cum kept flowing out of you like a fountain, more than you’d ever came before. Your chest heaved and when you knew you were finished, you gently patted his head. “You can stop now.” Breathing out weakly.

He pulled from your core with your cum all over his face, dripping off his chin. The sight of him, dripping in your cum and his underwear filled with his own made you ravenous. It reminded you of his disobedience.

You gathered all your strength to pull yourself up and onto all fours crawling over to him. “You didn’t listen to me.” You taunted.

He looked at you terrified, “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t help it!” Scooting away from you to the opposite side of the couch.

You backed him into the corner of the sofa, “I told you there’d be a price to pay.”

“I’m sorry I just-“ You swiftly slipped the soaked boxers off of him, crumbling them up in your hand.

“Open.” Gesturing at his mouth. You could tell he wanted to resist but was too scared. He nodded and opened for you. He whined when you shoved the most drenched part into his mouth.

You spit into your hand and found his cock again, it had softened a bit but quickly hardened again when you started pumping it in your hand. It was dark burgundy red and swollen from all the stimulation. Pained sobs came from behind the underwear lodged in his mouth. He shook his head profusely as your hand sped up. “Oh you wanna be a little slut and cum without permission? Well, if you wanna cum so fucking bad why don’t you cum again hm?”

Tears pooled in his eyes as he wriggled around in overstimulated agony. “Oh, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t that why you came all over me? And your underwear? And my couch?” You hissed through a smirk, getting off on his suffering.

He scrunched his eyes closed, tears being forced out, every muscle in his body contracting from the anguish. His fingers digging into the suede couch looking for anything to possibly ease the overstimulation. Sweat covered his forehead as he struggled beneath you.

“Aw look at you.” Your hand moving even faster on his cock, causing his eyes to widen, “Struggling so much. But even with this, I bet you’ll still cum like the little slut you are.” Taunting in a low voice, now hovering over his face. “Isn’t that right my pretty little one?”

His pained whines increased making the edges of your mouth curl into a leer, “Ah that’s right. Oh, you’re gonna cum aren’t you? You gonna cum like a little whore?”

He whined, still squirming wildly under you. You brushed a stray hair from his forehead, “C’mon baby, you’re so soo pretty like this. Be a good boy for me? Show me how much of a pretty little slut you are?”

All of a sudden, he bucked his hips harshly up into your hand, thick ribbons of cum erupting from his swollen tip. You palmed him til he rode out the high without over stimulating him again, gently pulling the underwear from his mouth. He looked at you through hooded lids, “I- You- We- Wow.” Was all he could muster, making you giggle.

You swiped the pad of your thumb across his cheek bone looking at him in awe, “You were so good.” Softly placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Yeah?” He squeaked only widening your smile.

“Mhm. And you’re so fucking pretty.” You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear.

His cheeks peeked pink again, “Thanks… You’re really fucking hot.” He blurted out.

You busted out laughing not expecting that out of him, “Thanks babydoll.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How about we get you cleaned up and then we can watch a not scary movie?”

“I’d like that lots.” He nodded excitedly, “Maybe we could watch 'Home'? I really like the little alien guy.” He giggled.

You chuckled and pressed your lips against his, “Sure baby, we can do that.”

taglist: @cryingabtab @purejasmine @flwrs4aust @lindszeppelin @slowsweetlove @ab4eva @softsatnin @powerofelvis @navsblog @michellelv @presleysdarling @suspiciouselvis @samfangirls

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story/my writing pls consider giving my main fics, Forever Winter or Just an Intern a read, if you like angsty sad smutty you'll love 'em lol

also pls consider giving this a like, comment or reblog ♡

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withacapitalp · 2 years

Text

Countdown Pt 3

Part One Part Two

Tw: Slight suicidal ideation and general grieving

--------------------------------------

They only carry a couple things with them on the run.

Surviving the apocalypse isn’t pretty, and it’s easier to make a quick escape if they’re always traveling light. Essentials only, with a few sentimental items so they don’t completely lose their minds.

Nancy had her journals, Max had her skateboard (even if she couldn’t use it right now), Will brought a pack of colored pencils, and Steve was pretty sure Hopper had somehow saved a half a pack of smokes.

And Steve….Steve has a shoebox.

It’s an old thing, held together with duct tape and decorated with sharpie doodles. Wayne had given it to him right before he left town, along with the necklace that Steve kept around his neck every moment of every day.

He’s never let any of them look in it. They think he’s insane, but they’re not the ones with zeroed out timers.

This shoebox is all he has left of his soulmate.

What’s inside would seem like junk to most people. A handful of rocks of varying size, shapes, and colors. A leather cuff with spikes that Steve had immediately put around his timer wrist to hide it from view. A matchbook from a gay bar in Indianapolis, a Spalding bouncy ball. Some hand-sewn patches with logos he didn’t recognize, three different mini figures, a dozen faded beautiful photographs, and a single mixtape.

Only Robin knew about the mixtape. He had only told her in case they needed a song for him. That mixtape was the only thing in the world that had the song that could save his life.

But the most important thing in that box was the letters.

He read one every night. He had promised himself he wouldn’t read more than one. It was routine. When it was his turn to be on watch and the rest of their family was sound asleep, Steve would open his shoebox, pull out a letter, and read it.

The first one is probably his favorite. It was written in dark red marker on yellow construction paper, the edges ripped and torn with age. The marker bled through the back of the paper where the child who wrote the letter had pressed down too hard, and Steve could imagine the way his fingers must have stained from the ink. Blood red. The same way his fingers were stained when he died.

7/4/1971

TWO SULMAYT,

HI.

I AM EDDIE MUNSON. I AM FIVE YEARS OLD. I LIKE TRUKS. YU SHUD LIKE THEM TO. WE CAN WATCH THE BIG TRUKS!

WHAT IS YUR NAMY?

BIE

LUV EDDIE

P. S. I HAD A NANA FOR BRIKFEST. YUM.

There was a picture of two giant monster trucks under the words, and a tiny thing Steve assumed was a banana under the postscript. Steve keeps that one tucked in his jacket pocket, just in case he ever loses his bag or his precious shoebox.

He keeps the first in his side pocket, and keeps the last one in the breast pocket right above his heart

6/13/1986

Hi Love,

The first one says ‘Two Sulmayt’ but every one after that starts with ‘Hi Love’.

Steve can’t help wondering if Eddie would have eventually called him ‘Love’ if they had gotten more time.

Well, if you’re reading this, then I guess my plan to be the one that lived really didn’t work out. Damn, that sucks. Probably a little bit more for you than for me.

I don't know how you dealt with knowing we only had five days, but I thought it was kinda fucked. Like damn, really? Five? The universe sure has a funny sense of humor, doesn’t it, Love? Or maybe it just hates me. That is also a very real possibility.

Maybe. But if the universe hated Eddie, then it must hate Steve more for making him continue to live. For giving him other people to love, people to care about, people to force him to not give up.

Anyways this is how I dealt with it. If you only get five days to have me, I’m going to make sure you know me. Or know who I was at least. One letter a month for the last 12 years, and a bunch of random one off ones from when I was little. Before I lived with Wayne it was kind of catch as catch can with paper and stuff, and I was also like seven, so how many letters do you really want from a seven year old who still can’t spell ‘Difficulty’?

I know how to now, by the way. Mrs. D, Mrs. I, yada yada. Do you ever wonder why all those women are married? I think that’s stupid. Forced conformity, even in our nursery rhymes.

That joke always made Steve laugh. He’s read this letter so many times it’s starting to come apart at the creases, but it still made him pause and chuckle.

Anyways. This is yours. Eleven letters a year for twelve years is one hundred and thirty two. Adding in the ones from before, it’s probably around a hundred and fifty. It’s not the same as having me around, but if you spread them out, you might get thirteen years or so before you have to start rereading them.

Or read them all in one sitting. Do whatever you want.

Steve had counted. It was one hundred and forty one. He read one new one a night, because every single day they survived seemed like a miracle right now.

He only had seventy three more left.

Not like I can stop you, haha.

That’s probably not as funny to you as I want it to be. Sorry, Love.

It wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. Steve wanted Eddie here, wanted him to tell him to wait. He wanted Eddie to write him more letters.

Oh, I also included a bunch of stuff I thought was too cool to lose, and a mixtape with songs that I wrote for my band. I thought you might want to get to hear my voice. It’s probably stupid, but you don’t have to listen to them if you don’t want to.

Steve listened to it. They had been forced to scrounge up new batteries for his walkman three times because it kept dying.

Everything in this box is yours, Wayne has strict instructions to give it to you. And, anything of mine Wayne doesn’t want is for you too.

Wow. A whole trust fund of trailer park trash. Some people leave their soulmates huge inheritances. I left you rocks and pictures and a shit ton of letters. Aren’t you lucky, Love?

He was lucky. He had seventy three more letters. Seventy three more reasons to survive another day.

After that…Steve wasn’t sure if he would be lucky anymore.

Now if you’re good at math- which I hope you are, because I’m terrible at it- then you might be saying to yourself ‘Is my soulmate an idiot? Does he not know there’s twelve months in a year?’

No. I’m actually incredibly smart, even though my grades don’t really show it. I rewrite this top of the box letter every year on my birthday, and then I burn the last one. It’s a fun, extremely morbid, tradition.

I’m 20 today, Love. I wonder how old you are a lot. I hope you’re close to my age at least. Maybe you’re like fifty years older than me, and I meet you when you’re on your deathbed, and that’s why we only have five days.

They had only gotten five days because Steve hadn’t just taken Eddie and run. He should have just told Eddie to go as far from Hawkins as possible the second he realized. Fuck the rest of the world, fuck stopping the apocalypse. The best part of Steve was already dead.

Two whole decades, but somehow I’m still in high school. I failed. Again. I wrote a lot about it in my letter last month, so I’m not going to talk about it again. Suffice to say I’m pretty bummed. I mean, c’mon, even Steve Harrington managed to graduate last year, and that guy barely even went to class during senior year.

That part of the letter always made his stomach turn. He hated the reminder of all the wasted time, the little nudge that always told him it was his fault they barely had any time.

If he had only looked up.

Oh, well. This one is it. ‘86 baby! I’d say I want this to be the year I meet you, but I really want to graduate, so maybe hold off for just one more year? Stay wherever you are for just twelve more months, Love, just to be safe. Then I can put a picture of me flipping off my principal in this box for you. I’ll add my diploma in too, just to prove to you I did it.

Eddie wasn’t going to get a diploma.

If you wait a year, I’ll give you twelve more letters. So just wait one more year. By then, I think I’ll know what to say to make this better. I’ll know what to do to fill the gap I know you’re going to have. I’ll have something to say that will fix all this. I say that every year, and I never do, but hey, ‘86.

Nothing anyone said would fix this. Nothing Eddie could write would fill the hole left in Steve’s soul. Nothing.

I’m sorry.

I say that every year too.

Steve didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want letters. He didn’t want a hard to hear voice on a single mixtape.

He wanted Eddie.

Well. Happy birthday to me. One more year without meeting you. Eleven more letters. You better be doing something just as nice for me in case it's you that bites it, or I’m bringing your ass back just to kill you again.

Steve didn’t care if Eddie killed him. Eddie could reappear right now and immediately shoot Steve and he would die happy. He just wanted one more minute. Just a little more time.

…Wait just a little bit longer. I’ll have better words next year.

Can you do that for me, Love?

P.S. You should read the first letter I wrote to you, just to appreciate how eloquent and charming I am in this one.

Eddie called him ‘Love’. Eddie asked him to wait. Eddie wanted to have the right words. He wanted to live long enough to save Steve from his own broken heart.

Steve wishes he had waited.

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stimmingandstruggling · 2 years

Note

Hi. I also think about Light Yagami a normal amount. I am sane and moderate person. I'm so normal about dn.

(I'm insane)

Do you have some more autistic light HC???

The thought of light stimming brings me joy

AAAAA ANON SORRY I HAVENT ANSWERED THIS YET THE BRAIN WORMS TOOK HOLD BUT I ABSOLUTELY DO!!!!!!

this. isn’t really a headcanon but hey i want to talk about it so!!! i write light stimming very specifically, make it a point. with other autistic characters i’ll just reference stimming unless it’s the focus, but with light i will ALWAYS be VERY SPECIFIC about what he’s doing. that is for 2 reasons. 1 light has learned to be hyper-aware of his own stimming, and very much Notices when he does it. 2 light is just a very particular, specific, meticulous person. yeah anyways light stimming!!!!

spreadsheet autistic, you can’t tell me he didn’t have a very large spreadsheet of every single kira victim and their data, complete with color coding

he was scolded a lot by his parents as a little kid for his “odd” behaviors, learned early on to mask

hyperverbal and started speaking very early

teased a lot as a little kid, especially for his large vocabulary, i am giving him my experiences okay. again, learned to mask quick.

in high school, researched like. current trends, thought of them as another school subject. “i’m going to get a good grade in knowing the same things as my classmates, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve”

unusually straight posture

has restrained “acceptable” stims like occasionally finger tapping, pacing, etc when he’s in public, and even those he tries to minimize

alone they get a bit more intense, especially when he’s focused and passionate about something

those dramatic pencil swooshes are 100% stimming

i think if he was able to accept himself and open up he’d have lots of large gesture stims, lots of clenching and unclenching his fists

echographia!!!!

childhood special interest of his was solitaire, this is because it was mine for many years. had a particular deck of cards he carried everywhere, doubled as a comfort object

i cant remember if i’ve talked about this on here before but high pitched noises bad. which is part of why he doesn’t like misa

(l’s voice though, despite his hatred of it, is like. therapeutic. his voice is So Nice but what he’s saying makes light want to throw him out of a window)

a lot of yotsuba arc in my brain is light being SO mad that this is like the most comfortable he’s ever been because he’s consistently accommodated and headquarters with l is like autistic heaven, but also he’s HANDCUFFED to L.

l: we don’t do fluorescent lights

light, stuck between kissing him and using the chain to strangle him: that’s nice.

#thank you anonnn #dn tag #autistic light yagami #autistic l lawliet #light yagami #l lawliet #lawlight #death note #asks

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beansprean · 1 year

Note

Hey bean!!!! I love your art so so much and your comics fill me with joy!! Would you mind sharing what's your process to make them?

Helllooooooo ty!! Of course!! Tbh it’s pretty loosey goosey and procreate isn’t the greatest program for comic building, but I manage lol. I usually start with the dialogue (my favorite thing to write!) which may initially be written blearily in bed at 3am in my notes app or directly onto the canvas. I usually build scenes based on the dialogue, which I’m sure is obvious in hindsight since most of my comics are just long drawn out arguments LOL. From there, I do a very rough sketch/storyboard to get the idea of the page down and how I want the panels to look, expressions, movement, etc. I’ll use a piece from queening the pawn act 2 part 2 as a simple example:

I primarily use the 6b pencil for these two stages. Very rough!! Then I turn the opacity wayyy down and do a cleaner sketch over the top, nailing down more details and expressions. This is also where I will use pose references if needed and warp the lines if I need to make something bigger/smaller (bc I don’t have vector layers and they will get blurry once I resize lol). I also usually add the dialogue text at this stage so I can refer to it without having to open up and squint at the barely-there storyboard layer lol. (More under cut, I am not known for my brevity)

Now I can do the lineart (studio pen!) and draw the panel boxes (by hand like a loser using the monoline calligraphy brush). I do the panels after the lineart so I know exactly how to size them for the characters and what I might be cutting off. I do the background lineart after so I don’t end up drawing more than I need to outside the boxes.

You can see at this point I decided to change Guillermo’s position in the first panel, having his arms down rather than up and removing his glasses - the angle of his left hand ended up being very finicky and I decided I wanted to see his expression (and not worry about his glasses immediately reappearing in the next panel lol). I can now add the background, which I either erase around the characters or use a masking layer on (if I have room for more layers lol) Then I start coloring, primarily using a very plain no-pressure paint brush (custom, for to save my wrist) for base colors and then build on patterns from there, changing layers as needed. I add my cheek color at 50% multiply, pop on the dialogue bubbles, and that’s pretty much it!

Very simple shot-reverse-shot scene, but my process is pretty much the same even for more complex stuff like

I’ll play around a lot with effects and background and lighting if I feel like it or if I feel the scene demands it (like the glasses panel - the Tarantino eyes and the glasses flash add to the dra~ma lol), and one thing I know I need to work on is flow! My instinct is often to expect your eyes to go left to right, down, and left to right again, but it’s really pleasing to have something to follow with your eye -like dialogue boxes. In the above you can see how I warped the panels and the angles of Guillermo’s attack to try to make it more exciting to look at and have a smoother flow. Def better than just two rectangular panels on top of each other, but I could have gone way harder on the angle of impact. Always learning and growing!! I just run out of room so often bc I hate using different canvasses for multiple pages, I feel like I lose the flow if I can’t see them on top of each other lol.

ANYWAY. Long fucking post. If you want to start drawing comics my advice is to Just Do It. The more you do them, the better you’ll get and the more fun you’ll have making them!! I never ever thought I would be the kind of person who does longform fan comics (we love you reapersun), but here I am having a blast lmao. Hope this answers your inquiry even a little bit, I’m afraid I am both long winded and extremely undisciplined!! ❤️❤️

#anonymous #tutorial #sorta #comics #wwdits

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mommalosthermind · 4 months

Text

Get to know me tag game!

tagged by @hawkstincan and I just saw it so oops

Do you make your bed? Mostly, yes. Defensive bed sheets mean I am significantly less likely to have to deal with legos, pencils, crumbs or whatever other random shit The Youngest Monster had in hand while hiding in my room.

Favorite number? uhhh. I don’t really have one? I tend to pick either 13 or 14 for number things bc 13 made people mad as a kid and it was funny, and 14 is part of my birthday.

What’s your job? parent. Using the educational degree to be backup teacher for my three monsters.

if you could go back to school, would you? I mean. The funny thing about school is there’s a lot of shit I want to learn and very little of it is taught in a typical classroom. I still wish we’d lived in an area with a proper vocational school while I was in high school ngl. Anyway things like carpentry and sewing should still be in schools and i want to collect trades like Pokémon.

Can you parallel park? probably not? I have literally never bothered to try after getting the damn license.

Do you think aliens are real? I think it’s arrogant to assume humans are the only ‘intelligent’ anything, even on earth. But realistically, it’s entirely possible the universe is too young to have a lot of life floating around in it. Little green men that made the pyramids and steal cows, though? That’s… silly.

Can you drive a manual? No. I have been in exactly two cars with stick shift, and I would really like to be in none of them ever again. That’s mostly due to the driver being a twat, but like. No. I’m good.

What’s your guilty pleasure? Mmm that’s an interesting one since ‘guilty pleasure’ usually just means ‘this is something that I try to hide’ and I’ve spent a lot of time trying to uncouple my embarrassment with existing from y'know. Existing. So. Probably the thing I get a kick out of that makes me go “i should maybe not enjoy this so much” is listening in on gossip or drama that’s Not Mine ngl. Tell me aaaall about how your auntie X started a fight. If it’s not my family, it’s just story time.

tattoos? Four! I’ve got a mandala-inspired piece on the left arm, a tiger lily +dog tags on my right shoulder, a blue rose + witch’s claw on the left leg, and an anklet that looks like leather with a heart pendant on the right leg. If I had spending money I would have… so many more. So many. My partner thinks it’s funny that I accidentally split things up so the left half is in color and the right side is black and white.

Favorite color? Black, silver, blue, green….

Favorite type of music? The kind that doesn’t annoy me? I tend toward the rock spectrum, unless I’ve got instrumental on. The kids are all into nightcore so there’s a hilarious amount of that in my brain at any given time. They did not enjoy when I made them listen to Dune’s Can’t Stop Raving. Rude.

Do you like puzzles? Putting together a picture? I’m going to sort the pieces into inside vs outside and maybe even color and then get very bored very quickly and wander off. Riddles? I’m going to feel like an idiot and wander off. Numbers? I have spaced out before even completing the question.

Any phobias? Oh that’s a hell of a question. Spiders. I have worked very hard to get to a point where I am mostly nonchalant about it but. Haaa not a fan. I have woken up to Big Fucking Spider In The Bed or On The Window too many times.

Favorite childhood sport? I was forced into a couple different sports as a kid and I did not enjoy any of them really. I was, and remain, the person who’s got five books and even more notebooks in a bag and I am sitting under a tree and ignoring everyone else. I did not do well in any form of a team-setting. Literally ever. I think the one that bothered me the least was track, and that’s because it felt like I could turn off my entire brain and just move from point A to point B and then be done.

Do you talk to yourself? Constantly. It’s almost never complete thoughts though, it’s a bunch of disjointed outbursts that probably make me sound bonkers bc half of the conversation I’m having with myself is in my head. Complete with hand movements.

What movies do you adore? I don’t really watching things these days? So probably things I liked as a kid, like the labyrinth or the goonies or the dark crystal. There’s a theme there, don’t worry about it.

Coffee or tea? Tea. The only time I’ve managed coffee is when it’s vaguely coffee flavored milk and sugar lmao. Or chocolate coffee ice cream.

First thing you wanted to be growing up? you know, I feel like it shouldn’t be this hard to answer objectively innocent questions in a way that won’t make people uncomfortable? but I don’t have an answer to this. So. I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to be someone else. Things like dreaming about jobs and being an adult were not things I had the space to do.

I’m not going to tag anyone specifically today, but if you join in please feel free to and @ me so I can see! <3

#Tag games

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galaxythreads · 1 year

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1, 2 (b – may I also ask what colour?), 4, 8, 9, 12, 13, 15, 18, 20, 25, 28, 33, ✨34✨, 35, 36, 38 (even if you are okay with sharing, i need to know what cats say about us), 39

Quite a lot, isn't it? You may skip numbers you don't feel like elaborating.

One more question from me: what particular question(s) made you reblog this questioner? If I didn't pick it (them) then answer it (them) anyway

What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting? Calibri, size 11 font. Yes I care a lot. I've changed fonts three or four times since I started writing. I used to do Times New Roman, then Arial, then Algeraya, now I'm using Calibri and Arial occasionally.

If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil? I went to online high school and every summer you had to give back the laptops they loaned out. I wrote by hand for three months until I bought a laptop when I was 18. I know I could do it because I already have. Colors usually black or pencil.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? Giggled. I hate it with my entire soul. Or yummy. If I could permanently remove words from the English language, it would be these two ^

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go? Already did. Someone fell from their sky to their death. it was a one-shot I wrote five years about for HTTYD.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know. Yes but no. I am one of the most skeptical people when it comes to the supernatural. I know you're going "........you're christain." and like yeah. Different than a haunting to me. I think 99% of hauntings are just mold or carbon monoxide poisoning. I would personally have to be possessed by a ghost before I took the story seriously. I am always going to try and find a scientific reason first, if I've crossed out all those, THEN i'm like "Yep. Ghost." I genuinely DO believe people have encountered the afterlife. I feel bad energies in places/rooms, and I've seen some stuff. But I DO NOT believe that every haunting is a haunting. It's ridiculous. Make sure your carbon monoxide detector is up to date.

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules. 1 - I get published and get a big fandom, 2 - one of my fanfics gets turned into a movie 3 - ChatGPT becomes illegal and doesn't overtake writing and ruin any potential prospects I have at making writing a career.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy? Hard: child death. Easy: child abuse.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends? No I don't. If you damage a book, I feel annoyed. My sister loaned me a book she wrote in the margins of once and yes it was cool to see her thoughts, but she crossed out sentences and wrote it differently and circled unique words and it was really really annoying because it was so distracting. Have never written in a book that wasn't scripture, have no plans to start.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

"I'm sorry.

He moves down the hall. Tony's enjoying this. Making May uncomfortable. It makes him sick. He wants to scream himself hoarse and demand to know how anyone could ever want that. (She said sorry.) Peter pushes open the door to his room and stares at it.

There's no looming shadowy presence in the corner. Nothing to suggest what's been going on for all this time. (Nothing has been going on.) it looks...painfully ordinary. Normal. Numbingly so. Peter stares at everything with an ache in his chest. Staying with the Starks isn't permanent he reminds himself, just until he can work things out with M&M. Then he'll be back here. He just needs...not everything.

Sorry.

Peter moves into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

I'm sorry.

He shuffles to his closet and digs through the top until he finds a duffle bag and starts to throw things into it. Clothing, his laptop, his phone charger, a blanket, other things he barely processes, and a few books. He doesn't see his phone and realizes that it's probably still in May and Matt's bedroom. Which...great.

Peter moves for his backpack, stuffing anything school related inside. He doesn't know if he'll be back before winter break is over. He doesn't think so.

Sorry.

May said sorry.

Peter's stiff hands move across the desk, fumbling to grab his history book, but it won't stick with his fingers. The backpack falls from his limp hands, landing at his feet with a huff of air.

Sorry.

As if that's supposed to fix it. Take back everything that happened. Half a year of aching. Of hating. Of nothing.

May said sorry.

Matt pushed him down the stairs.

Sorry.

His arm is broken.

May said sorry. And he doesn't want to forgive her."

-> Not one for Chocolate Anymore, I see

This passage is in response to May apologizing to Peter. And Peter just. yeah. This passage went through a lot of revisions that I can remember, Peter fixated on different things. But the sorry was what struck a chord with me.

I was, at the time, struggling with a lot of personal issues with my parents, and had a similar vein of thought to this ^. Sorry doesn't fix it. Sorry doesn't make it better. It's just words. I wanted to showcase that.

People hound victims of abuse for forgiving their abusers, especially if they said sorry. Like it makes it all better. They apologized, didn't they? Yeah. But May neglected Peter for months. He doesn't have to forgive her. This was my response to that. Peter is angry. He's allowed to be angry. Sorry doesn't fix it.

20..If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch One true love. perfection doesn't exist and the potion would be useless. Plus I'm lonely and single and very much wish I had a gf.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? I always write Thor as hating poptarts because I like to subvert fandom tropes.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Loki. His head is haunted. Hela's a close second though. Her head is very haunted.

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate? I draw. I play several instruments. I make collages and I build modals sometimes. The art comes into my writing sometimes, but not often.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go: It is utterly pointless. Look, there are very few instances that you NEED to have the oxford comma there. When you're listing things, people understand the and. I think that English is desperately trying to stick to outdated rules because they're "right" but the thing is, if you don't adapt with the language the language will die. Let it flow and change. It's normal. It's healthy. That's why English is how it is now.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens? No adverbs.

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? I write the chapter, let it sit for 3-4 days and then rewrite and edit it. Letting it marinate is just so weird to me.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up? I like comments. I enjoy putting down stories and sharing them. I like seeing people put the story together in the comments. I like the community.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Poem I wrote a few years ago (I have pages and pages and pages of poems actually, it was my Thing when I was 13-15).

"Trapped and I can't breathe,

Blind and I can't see,

Alone I cry and grieve,

I'm afraid of me,

from this ask game

#answered #ask game #okay #i feel like i've answered every question and it was only one ask #my writing

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ladyswillmart · 2 years

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It Came From the Drafts (unplaced writing snippets)

“Oh stop, GLaDOS wouldn’t show us a snuff film,” Doug fired back, wearily.

Before thinking about this very carefully.

“What am I saying, of course she would show us a snuff film,” he said. “GLaDOS would show my own snuff film and then have the lot of you push your desks around in a big circle and workshop my death.”

“Hey, I got one! I got an idea,” said Rick, his optic flashing a most enthusiastic green color, as usual—for now the only light in the darkened cinema. “I think when it’s time for you to tango with Ol’ Grim, you gotta say something really cool. Like YOU GOT IT DUDE! or HAVE MERCY!”

“So when I die, I should try to crib my last words from an episode of Full House,” Doug noted, nodding, recalling Rick's incurable crush on Kimmy Gibbler. “Got it.”

“Hey, are you a screamer?" wondered Grady from the row behind, idly flinging bits of roughly 50,000 year-old popcorn in the presumed direction of the screen. “’cause, like, you kinda look like you’d be a screamer, with that hair and all, like Thomas Dolby at the 1985 Grammy Awards. I dunno, I don’t mean it in a rude way, but you just look like that kinda guy. Who like, starts screamin’ really crazy when he dies. And maybe sometimes even not, like maybe sometimes just because. I dunno, I just think if that’s gonna be a whole thing, you should try to live up to audience expectations.”

“Expectations.”

“Yeah like, you seem like the kinda guy who would get himself really violently killed while trying to defend something that means the whole world to him, but what’s ultimately pointless in the uncaring face of an indifferent universe,” Grady went on. “See, like I read a lot of Camus.”

Doug felt a stale bit of something pelt the back of his right ear. “I can tell.”

“Or like, I read a thing about him once in the back of a corn flakes box—anyway, so like while you’re doing all that, like dying your pointless but paradoxically poignant death, you should try to scream a lot too. That’s all I’m saying. I think it would help.”

“Help what...?”

Oh for god’s sake. It’s not a snuff film. Today.

Her voice—Aperture’s own-brand Metatron—still sent pangs of panic straight through Doug Rattmann’s heart. Even though, or perhaps especially because he could not see her.

Anyway, lighten up. This week’s mandatory employee retention filmstrip is about our hands-on, team-oriented approach to workplace health and safety, specifically why Aperture Laboratories had to cut every single one of those incredibly broad concepts out of their budget entirely during the mid-1980s after Mr. Johnson... Well. Hmm. You know, I actually do have a home video of his—

“—J-just show the filmstrip!” Doug suddenly cried out; GLaDOS’s alternative screenings came too readily to mind.

“Yeah! That’s it! That’s what I mean with the screaming,” added Grady. “That’s pretty cool.”

Rick blinked thoughtfully. “Y’know, you say that, but I dunno if JUST SHOW THE FILMSTRIP is what I’d be screamin’ right before gettin’ torn to shreds and devoured alive by the 6-legged mecha-cheetahs running wild in the old company superette. Now that sounds like an adventuresome death. HAVE MERCY!”

“Indeed,” Doug muttered, hazily wondering just how far Rick would push his ever-deteriorating self for the sake of raiding more lost arks from the old Aperture Superette. Right now the storage closet in the Juliet Ampere robotics workshop was choc-a-bloc with such treasures—trucker’s hats, oven mitts, Aperture Laboratories souvenir giant novelty pencils, long expired boxes of Aperture Dinner, VHS tapes of Cave Johnson’s funeral...

He shuddered, and even spared a little thought towards the idea of the pointless but paradoxically poignant death as the cinema projector sprang to life, bathing the screen in fabulous 16mm AperChrome, while an unseen hand from behind showered him with yet more inedible conglomerations of carbohydrates.

#i can't remember why i wrote this #but i need to get it out of the drafts before it gets buried hahah #death cw

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jaydonsjam · 2 years

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Ghost Rider I/Hellstrom I

Marvel Spotlight #5-7

(#5-7 Written by Gary Friedrich pencilled by Mike Ploog

#6-7 inked by Frank Monte)

I loved the origin for Johnny Blaze in Marvel Spotlight #5 even though at times it’s unintentionally funny. I don’t know why but every time his adoptive father, Crash Simpson would call him a coward it would just make me laugh cause he went so hard on him with it. It just came off melodramatic just so there’d be tension in the family. I did like the fact that Johnny’s adoptive mother, Mona sacrifices herself to save him. I found that to be a really powerful moment. Along with the fact that she makes Johnny promise her that he won’t ever ride in Crash’s show. Crash being diagnosed with cancer hit home for me (my mom died of lung and brain cancer) and the idea that Johnny turned to Satan cause he was desperate to help his foster father made sense to me especially in their world of the supernatural and superheroes. Cause if I could’ve saved my mother I would’ve. I’ve always liked that part of Ghost Rider and it makes him even more interesting than a lot of other superheroes. He has powers given to him by Mephisto or Satan and uses them to fight evil. I do like that twist and it’s why Ghost Rider (especially 90’s-00’s GR comics) is one of my favorite characters. Note: this is my first time reading these early GR comics. Then of course the reveal comes when Crash dies in a show and Satan tells Johnny that he promised to heal his disease not save him. Classic can’t trust the devil stuff. It’s classic for a reason cause it works as a plot device. Don’t trust the devil, kids. I don’t like Johnny’s love interest, Roxanne Simpson and I found the idea that her being a pure soul can banish demons and save Johnny to be a little lame. Plus she spends most of these issues getting kidnapped.

We start issue 6 with Johnny Blaze being harassed by a group of bikers called Satan’s Saints. He knocks them off their bikes and then their leader, Curly offers him a membership cause he’s cool. Now in my Morbius posts I have mentioned that I find the idea that people think Morbius is wearing a mask to be completely unbelievable. Here, it’s the same situation except for the fact that GHOST RIDER HAS A SKULL FOR A FACE AND IT’S LIT ON FIRE. It’s such a stupid idea that everyone just thinks it’s a mask/helmet. It infuriates me cause it makes everyone seem to be stupid. It doesn’t work. Anyways, Curly is revealed to be Crash reincarnated by Satan so that he can get Johnny’s soul. Again, they use the pure soul/love that Johnny has for Rocky prevent Satan from getting his soul so instead the Devil sends Crash as Curly to retrieve Rocky so they can sacrifice her. It’s kinda weird how willing Crash is to sacrifice his daughter to be alive again. There’s a fight at the motorcycle show with Satan’s Saints. It’s cool and Johnny successfully save Rocky and everyone in the crowd believes it was a part of the show. Johnny sees himself as a danger to Rocky so he ends up leaving her. Guess what happens next? She gets kidnapped.

Crash begins the sacrifice of Rocky but is interrupted by Ghost Rider. Satan gives Crash a flaming sword and basically says he needs to kill Johnny. They have a fight in hell and Crash ends up sacrificing himself to save Johnny. There’s a weird moment where a cloaked figure in hell helps Johnny leave after taking Crash’s body. I will say I liked the fight in hell. It was really cool imagery and I liked that Crash had a redemptive ending. Plus the imagery of Johnny carrying Crash was really sad. I love when the fight is happening, we see lots of red, yellow and Orange flames but once Crash has sacrificed himself, the main colors become shades of blue. Overall with my problems aside, I enjoyed the hell out of this first arc but next story arc is where things get rough. Btw, the ending to this arc is in the first pages of issue 8 but I wanted to cover it all in this section.

Marvel Spotlight #8-11

(#8-11 written by Gary Friedrich

#8 pencilled by Mike Ploog

#8 and 10 inked by Jim Mooney

#9-11 pencilled by Tom Sutton

#9 inked by Chic Stone

#11 inked by Syd Shores)

This storyline came off problematic and used a lot of racial stereotypes plus casual use of R-slur. The Apaches had pink-red skin and it just came off offensive and honestly, racist. I hated this whole story arc and frankly, I almost gave up reading it. I was really looking forward to Ghost Rider and we definitely went off the rails here. Plus, Roxanne got kidnapped again and I’m so tired of the damsel in distress trope. We can only go up from here right?…right? Also, is everyone a satanist in this book? Damn, the satanic panic really had people by the throat in the 70’s.

Ghost Rider #1-2

(#1 and #2 Written by Gary Friedrich

#1 pencilled by Tom Sutton

#2 pencilled by Jim Mooney

#1 and #2 inked by Syd Shores)

I’ve made my point about the way they portray the Apache characters so I won’t retread that just know that it continues here (it’s not as bad but still annoying).

I was excited when the first issue of Ghost Rider opens on Daimon Hellstrom visiting his mother’s grave. Daimon is a character that I had written down to explore more of so I was pumped to see that he takes over the Marvel Spotlight series for a while. Anyways Sam Silvercloud and his father meet with Daimon to see if he can help his possessed wife Linda Littletree, who is a villain named Witch Woman. By the time he gets there though Linda has been taken over completely by Satan and she runs to find Johnny Blaze. There’s a cool scene when Daimon gets to their house and he wraps his wrists around the Chain of Ankhs and tells them not to open the door or help him in any way no matter what he tells them. It’s just a cool setup and immediately makes you wonder what Hellstrom’s deal is. Johnny Blaze is in the hospital after a crash and then at night he transforms into Ghost Rider and heads to Copperhead Canyon to stop Bart Slade from attempting the jump. I will say Bart failing the jump and dying in a fiery explosion was unexpected and raised the stakes a lot more for me as a reader. I gotta say too that Johnny continuously has to flee the police (just wait till I get to issue 3) and sometimes I have to question the writing because it makes Johnny seem like a total moron.

Issue 2 makes Johnny look even worse cause he pushes Rocky down so that she’ll leave him alone and let him give up to Satan. It’s hard to like Johnny when the writing makes him hit women and seem dumb as rocks. Witch Woman (possessed by Satan) appears and wants Rocky’s soul along with Johnny’s so GR refuses and makes hellfire appear between Rocky and WW. I haven’t mentioned this but I love that Ghost Rider can wield hellfire but I’m missing his chains and penance stare. These early Ghost Rider issues are really rough and I’m struggling to be positive here. More motorcycle bad guys appear named Big Daddy Dawson’s Ruthless Riders and these ones are Nazis so there’s that. They start to fight but Witch Woman transports herself and Ghost Rider to Hell. Rocky is then harassed by the nazi bike riders but we don’t find out what happens to her until next issue. Johnny refuses to give up his soul as long as Rocky is in trouble so Satan reveals himself by burning the Witch Woman. He sends his demons against Ghost Rider and they hold him down as the Devil holds his sword above Johnny and ready to stab him. They are interrupted by someone. I love how Jim Mooney draws Hell with a dark cave structure but with yellow and orange flames in the background. Also I gotta say that I’m confused about Satan, Lucifer, Mephisto etc. the Hell stuff is so confusing in the Marvel universe. Anyways, before I move on to the next issue in this story, Daimon is freed by Sam after pleading that Linda is in trouble. We don’t see his costume but he’s in his Son of Satan garb with the yellow boots and red pants. They hid his full costume because they wanted you to pick up the Son of Satan issue of Marvel Spotlight to get the reveal. It’s the same with the ending of this issue. It’s clear that the person who stops Johnny from getting killed has to be Son of Satan but all we see is a speech bubble coming out from the corner of the page. I actually liked how they hid Daimon’s full reveal cause it made him more mysterious. That’s another thing, we don’t ever see Daimon’s face throughout these 2 GR issues, he’s always in shadow or shown from the back. It worked for me.

Marvel Spotlight #12

(Written by Gary Friedrich and pencilled by Herb Trimpe and inked by Frank Monte)

Daimon Hellstrom is freed from the Chain of Ankhs by Sam Silvercloud revealing Hellstrom’s alter ego the Son of Satan! This issue takes us back to the events of Ghost Rider #2 but with the perspective of the Son of Satan. We get a costume reveal of the red and yellow shirtless cape and pants look. He’s holding his badass trident and has his Satan tattoo on his chest. I gotta be honest this was a badass moment. He uses his trident to shake the ground and make a storm and call his chariot. It just shows how powerful he is. It’s a great first reveal. Plus I like going back and seeing his perspective. It catches us up on how he found Johnny in Hell. He’s a bastard too cause he saves Rocky from the Nazis but then when he figures out that they went to hell he leaves Rocky in the desert. Daimon fights off Satan’s minions and we get a reveal that his trident is made from Netheranium which makes Satan’s powers useless. It explains how Son of Satan can fight his father and not just be easily defeated cause it’s the Devil. He leads Johnny and Linda out of hell and then rides off in his chariot leaving them in the desert. I laughed so hard cause he’s such an asshole. The dude flows with arrogance but he can back it up. I’m so excited to continue exploring his character and story. This was definitely my favorite issue from these comics that I read for this post.

Ghost Rider #3

(Written by Gary Friedrich and pencilled by Jim Mooney and inked by John Tartag)

I liked how Ghost Rider learned he can create a bike out of hellfire but the moment he transforms back to Johnny he loses it. One thing that sets Johnny apart from other heroes/anti-heroes is the fact that his powers are on a time limit. If it’s the day, he’s screwed cause he’s not invincible but at night he’s almost unstoppable. We get the return of Big Daddy Dawson who kidnaps Rocky (again she gets fucking kidnapped. This is worse than early Spidey comics). Rocky is only around to be saved. This seriously sucks. She has no interesting character traits, she’s a plot device. Oh, wait she’s pure of heart so there’s that. That’s cool right? Johnny gets hurt, again because he’s an idiot who tries to jump a police blockade!? Johnny has to be stupid. He just has to be. He’s hospitalized and Dawson knows this so he takes Rocky to the hospital cause he wants money from Johnny (he is a famous stunt biker so it makes sense that he’d have money). Every issue feels like it’s just retreading the same story over and over. It’s quickly becoming my least favorite book to read. Johnny fights the Devil or other bikers or problematic villains. At least this issue ends with the Nazi biker driving into a fuel tank and exploding. That was the most interesting thing that happened this issue besides GR creating a hellfire bike. Sorry I hate complaining and being negative cause I know it’s not fun to read but I gotta be honest with my feelings. Thanks for reading this post! Next up we’re Adventuring Into Fear!

#marvel #marvel comics #ghost rider #70’s comics #daimon hellstrom #son of satan #johnny blaze

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