Tumgik
#I don’t really like this drawing but whatever
weaselmcdiesel · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media
ok so it's not a comic hope thats ok with you but instead it's karkat n nepeta but designed by someone whos madly in love with them both
some more au explanations + transcript beneath the cut
they're maybe around 30-40 yo? This was mostly just an exercise to give both of them adult designs. uh. i'm only calling it an au because I made bs some explanations behind their designs while i was drawing them. so uh, in this universe, sburb never happens + things that happened because of sburb don't happen either, but the alternian society is relatively unchanged. i dont actually know.. what.. karkat does.. like i cant figure out why he wouldnt be culled but it doesnt really matter i just wanted to draw him looking cool! (i am. open to hear about speculation if you have any). also i figured that Kanaya would go to the brooding caverns after her lusus dies, bc the wiki said her lusus would die regardless of the game taking place n whatever, and probaly do something with the matriorb there idk. thats all tho! ill prolly draw them more and maybe develop more lore as i do ^^;
--
Transcript!
i don’t know what their dynamic is in the canon of this au… but that won’t stop me from making them kiss :]
The Vigilant adult karkat on alternia
new highly developed shoosing skill
honestly has a calmer demeanor because he’s learned what’s worth exploding about… though he probably developped a crazy resting bitch face
pleased (arrow to karkat with a neutral face)
The sash doubles as a sling for when he visits Kanaya in the brooding caverns. He’s also very tranquil around grubs because they don’t cause unmanageable problems. He’ll get mad if someone else bothers one
(yes i’m obsessed with dilfkat that’s why i drew this)
The Predator adult nepeta on alternia
Taller than karkat <3
still a silly goober, but better at getting what she wants
she probably got her title from a history of single-handedly slaying fearsome lusii. she likely takes assassination type of jobs because of her stealth. one of the more easy-going trolls from the group
--
also! fun fact. i was having trouble designing kk's outfit so i looked in an old antiques catalog book from the internet archive to get inspiration from objects that had the same colors as those that i wanted to use in his design? not sure why i did that. just had a hunch that it would be fun. so this is the object i found that strangely enough inspired kk's fit
Tumblr media
haha.. and i also found one for nepeta, though it was easier to design her fit and i didnt actually need a reference object
Tumblr media
the book was "Antique Trader antiques & collectibles 2009 price guide"
318 notes · View notes
wybienova · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
dream visit (nostalgia) - a 2nd anniversary katfl comic
146 notes · View notes
gretavanlace · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media
Sugar II (part 9)
Jake Kiszka x reader
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, language, the tiniest amount of alcohol consumption, digital penetration, masturbation, oral sex (fem rec), anal play, unprotected sex, etc
Okay, sweet peas, we’ve got one more chapter to go (maaaaybe two idk), but all your favorites will be back! Plus an epilogue. Thank you so much for sticking with me after I did sugar jake so dirty the first time around ❤️
The air is lush and fragrant with herbs, sizzling eggs, and Jake when you wake - though his side of the bed has already cooled.
He’s all around you. Clothes and scuffed boots tossed about the room. Guitar case propped open sans Gibson - where has she gone? The scent of his skin clinging to yours. The gentle bustle of him milling around in the kitchen. You roll over and shamelessly bury your face in the pillow he rested his pretty head upon last night. Drawing him in with a shiver of content…he is home and you are basking in the comfort that is the great return.
He’s humming something to himself, and though you can barely hear - and you certainly can’t place the song - you try to hum along, laughing quietly to yourself when it comes out sounding muddled and strange as you search for a melody you don’t know.
It doesn’t matter. If he’s humming, you want to hum along. You’d like to walk beside him always, twisted and tangled together like a silken braid of devotion.
Seduced by his silly siren’s song, your feet hit the floor as you search for something to throw on. You settle on the black blazer he’s tossed over the back of a chair and pad down the hallway. Lulled and lured by his quiet chaos.
You find him, back to the doorway, gingerly shaking a pan with one hand and tossing what looks to be diced veggies with the other, totally at ease and at home. A gorgeous, disheveled chef complete with yesterday’s sweats, t shirt that’s torn at the neck, and tangled hair.
Should you stand and watch him awhile? It sounds tempting…to watch him work, a sneaky, head over heels fly on the wall. The way he moves, every shift of muscle is intoxicating. Yes, you are bewitched, but even standing here bathed in his presence, you miss him, and that wins out.
”Morning, Jakey,” you smile, breaking his concentration.
”There’s my sugar,” he tosses you a look over his shoulder that stops your heart. “I’m making you breakfast, my love. Would you like coffee or tea?”
Bare feet dancing over chilled tile, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek between his shoulder blades, “Whatever you’re having.”
He backs up a little, no doubt worrying about your arms - though they are protected by his jacket - being too near to the stove, and turns, pulling you closer while walking you backwards towards the island, “How about we share a cup of tea? You hungry?”
Flashes of memories burn through your brain…last night, in the foyer wrapped up together on the floor while he kissed your body and wept. On the couch while you talked about how exactly this all might work. Later, in a bed that wasn’t yours, in sheets you wouldn’t wash.
You should be thoroughly sated, but yes…you are hungry.
”How’d I get so lucky, little girl?” His lips curve into a grin that derails your thoughts and replaces them with something much softer. Your heart is weak for the look in his eyes…the unapologetic, worshipful love that blazes there. “How did I manage to earn this?”
”Earn what?” You smile back, praying that the emotion pounding in your heart is as evident in your gaze as it is in his, “Us?”
His eyes duck away with a shy nod, “I just never thought I’d have you like this again. In my arms, not going anywhere. Staying.”
Your fingertips are at his cheeks, sweeping over the perfect warmth of his skin, soft as air, “Jake, you didn’t earn anything. You’ve always held my heart.”
Still unwilling to meet your gaze, he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “You took it away.”
”No,” you argue in a hush. Can he really not see? “I left it with you. You’re the only reason it beats, anyway. But if you don’t feed me soon, I fear I may perish.”
”Drama queen.” He grins, pecking your cheeks each in turn, grateful that you’ve eased his mind and calmed his tender nerves.
The kettle begins to scream and you patter off to the table tucked into the corner, homey and quaint, to watch him work to take care of you. Soon, you’re gifted a steaming mug along with another kiss dropped atop your head. “Splash of rum and a sprinkle of cinnamon, sugar. It’s 9 o’clock in the morning, you lush.”
”Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Jake?” You tease back, watching as he moves to finish things up at the stove, throat seizing with aching affection…he remembers how you take your tea.
”I don’t have to get you inebriated for that,” he sounds gravelly and full of himself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I could fuck you however and wherever I so felt the inclination, my lovely little doll, and you would grace me with your gracious and enthusiastic appreciation.”
You bat your lashes wildly at him as he presents two plates heaped with brightly colored, expertly sautéed vegetables and fluffy, scrambled eggs like cheery, sunny clouds. A bowl of swollen, fuschia raspberries deposited between your plates like a pile of sweetened jewels steals the show. “Oh, be still my heart…you know how I enjoy it when you speak like a dictionary.”
”I know, sugar,” there’s that beaming smile of his again as he offers you a berry, lightly teasing it at your lips until you open up for him. “plenty more where that came from.”
A comfortable quiet sparks to life as you both dig in and pass the teacup back and forth. He finally breaks it, speaking up around a bite of potatoes and peppers. “I spoke to Josh this morning.”
”And how is your missing piece?” You quirk an eyebrow over the top of the cup you have now commandeered.
He leans back in his chair and settles his gaze upon you, clocking your expression closely, searching for a reaction. “Obnoxious as ever. He’s annoyed with me because I haven’t looked over the lyric revisions he sent me, and I certainly couldn’t care less if I actively tried. However, he’s very excited to see you. Cross though he might be with his dear brother.”
”Hello, Oliver,” you wink, “Let’s have Jacob back, shall we?”
You haven’t forgotten Jake’s tendency for trotting out Mr. Reed when he’s dipping a toe or two into the waters of vulnerability.
“Do you miss him?” He asks quietly, “Do you want things to be the way they were before? Because I can live with that if it means you’ll stay.” He rushes on as if he fears he may lose his nerve. “I want you to be happy, whatever it takes, I just want you to be happy.”
Fork clinking lightly against your plate as your focus zeros in on his lovely face, you lean forward and reach for his hand “Did he tell you he came to see me? After I ran into Danny that day?”
His fingers slip into your waiting palm with a soft squeeze, “He mentioned that he found you and asked you hide away until we’d gone. I’ve never wanted to hurt him as badly as I did then. Not even when we were young and stupid. Not even that night, when he forced me to let you go.”
“He was only trying to protect you, jake.” Your head tilts, watching residual pain flare to life in his eyes. “I’ve done a great many things to hurt you, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hate me for it.”
“He could never hate you, sugar. Don’t say things like that, it would break his heart to hear them.” The conviction in his words is fierce, and that makes sense…they share a life force at times, it seems.
“He did ask me to hide away, yes…” you nod, wrapping your free hand around his knuckles, warming his touch with your own, “But did he tell you anything else about our visit? Did he tell you how easy it was for us? How we caught up and laughed and looked at each other like very old friends that had been lost to each other for too many years?”
His shoulders tense as though he’s bracing for a gentle impact, but on you march, whispering to him in this unfamiliar kitchen that feels fat full of love.
”Did he tell you that it didn’t even hurt, our being in the same room with everything so fucking different? Did he know that all I could do was sit there, falling silently apart and searching for you in his eyes?”
“But you loved him.” Now it’s his turn to search your eyes, but for what you’re not sure. “I don’t want you to have to tamp that out. Not ever. You love so beautifully, sugar. I can share.”
”I did love him,” you nod. “Very much. A long time ago. I love him still. Differently. And not the way I love you. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You don’t have to share. Not anymore.”
His grip is pulling at you now, tugging you to your feet and into his arms, creaking the worn wood of his chair beneath the weight of you both as he buries his face into your bare chest, hiding his tears in the lapels of his blazer as he weeps into your skin.
“Shh, baby,” you soothe, stroking through his hair, holding onto him as he clings to you as if you might vanish like a sigh.
His face tilts upward, lips brushing over your chin and jaw, licking and tasting you through his tears. “I love you, sugar. Sometimes I feel like all this love I have for you is just going to break me into pieces, like I can’t hold it all inside. There’s no room for it. I’m too small.”
”Jake,” you feel like you could break into pieces right alongside him as he begins tugging his jacket away from your shoulders.
He shakes his head, hushing you silently, “So, I’m going to take all this love and I’m going to give it all to you. And I’m gonna fill our house with it, press it into the walls and let it seep into the floorboards. Every nail and every window is going to feel it. The pipes and hinges. The chimney is going to breathe it into the night when we light fires in the winter. And we’re going to have babies and I’m going to love them just as much, and I can’t wait to watch you love them…”
You feel baptized in his tears and the wet, warm press of his mouth as he tattoos beautiful promises into your flesh. How could you ever have believed that you wanted anything other than this?
“I’m going to exist for you every single day, sugar…” a sob escapes him, though he tries so hard to bite it back, “I already do…I always have.”
“I know, baby…it’s okay,” you’re kissing adoration into his hair, combing your fingers through the tangles, coddling him and cooing the softest endearments, desperate to mollify his soul, fraught to offer him peace. “Please don’t cry, jakey. You know I can’t stand it.”
Hearing his own words lilting off of your tongue, he pauses and gazes up into your eyes like he sees everything he’ll ever need in them, “When I said that to you, I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be…gone. I didn’t want to live in a world where you wore his ring on your finger with tears in your eyes. Will you miss him?”
Should you lie? Perhaps. But wouldn’t he see the untruths lying bare? Wouldn’t that hurt even worse? Your deception?
“Yes,” you nod, petting him as he presses in closer, “he was kind to me, and sweet. He made me laugh. He made me half-way happy enough to pretend. I’ll miss him sometimes…but never enough to look back and regret chasing after you.”
“I’m glad he was kind to you,” he whispers, kissing a drunken, winding path across the tops of your breasts, “you deserve kind. He loved you, I could see that. I didn’t want to, but I could. And maybe I hated that, but I would have hated the alternative so much more. I’m sure he loves you still.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you laugh softly, “he wasn’t very pleased with me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sugar,” he stares up at you with eyes laced heavily in adulation, “you don’t leave a man alone so easily. You linger and overstay your welcome in the worst way. Learn to leave a room, sweetheart.”
He has pulled another laugh out of you, louder and bell like this time…it twists his heart with heated, pulsing adoration.
”Jake,” you pause, waiting for him to give you his honey brown eyes, “You were right when you said none of it matters. This matters.” Your palm finds your heartbeat for a moment, and then his own.
”I know, my love…” tears skate along his lash line like blissful, shimmering quartz, “I know.”
~
His mouth is at your throat, gentle hand splaying out across your abdomen, holding you down against the cool, polished wood of the table.
Fingers playing at your lips, he breaks a raspberry apart between his fingers before sweeping it over your waiting tongue. “You’re so beautiful, sugar. Aren’t you? Aren’t you my pretty, pretty girl?”
His shirt has landed on the tile, forgotten and worthless to this task at shaking hand.
“Yes,” nails digging into his shoulders to remind him of where you’ve been, of where your touch belongs, you nod fervently beneath his kiss, “I’m your pretty girl, Jakey. I’m your girl.”
Lips beginning a path up your cheek to your temple, he hums euphorically and grasps at your ankles, tugging gingerly until your heels are resting on the table. “Will you show me?” His voice is silken and inquisitive, tongue fluttering over your earlobe to bring chills to life inside you. “Hmm? Will you show me how pretty you are for me?”
”Anything,” you pant, arching away from the table, desperate to be closer to him as he pulls back.
You watch on, body throbbing and screaming for him while he pops a raspberry into his mouth and settles back into his chair, legs spread wide, hands fisted into flexing balls at his knees, “Touch yourself for me, sugar. Rub your sweet little clit, nice and slow, just for me.”
Maybe you’d like to say your body protests, maybe you ought to say that you shy away, maybe if you weren’t so indescribably in love with him you’d do both of those things, but as it stands….
….as it stands, you give him what he’s asked for without thought. There isn’t a breath of hesitation. You simply roll two fingers over your tongue, reach down between your thighs, and begin.
The hushed moan that tumbles off the tip of your tongue tugs a sigh from his lungs that sets you further on fire. He sounds so beautiful, so wholly under a spell that you can’t fathom having the ability to cast over this deity of a man.
“There’s my good girl,” he is so quiet, you’d scarcely hear him were your focus not so completely honed in on jake jake jake, “Does that feel good, little girl? Is my sugar making that pretty pink pussy feel just so nice?”
He is an obscene angel staring you down with snarled hair and wicked sin in his wild eyes.
A trembling sound is all you’re able to manage as your touch dips inside yourself to draw slick back up to your clit.
”Yeah?” he tilts his head, watching you reverently, “It looks like it does. You’re dripping all over the table. I want to lick it up.”
“Please,” your fingers circle faster, but something is missing. He, close though he might be, is missing.
”Please, what?” He sounds as needy and hungry as you feel. “Tell me what you want me to do to you and I’ll do it, baby. Whatever you want…I’ll fucking do it.”
”Your mouth,” your legs spread wider until your hips protest, and then you spread a little wider in offering. “I’d like to have your mouth please, Jakey. Please. lick me, please, please.”
A groan rumbles out of his chest like pained thunder as he wraps his arms around your thighs, tugging you in and burying his mouth exactly where you’ve so politely begged for it. Another anguished sound pushes from his lungs as he drinks down his first mouthful of you.
The tip of his tongue teases over your shivering clit, and then slinks down to dip inside you, and then down farther still to lap against that heavenly little spot where it shouldn’t be.
He hums against you while you whine and yank at his hair, pulling his kiss in closer as your hips lift away from the wood you’re making such a mess of.
“Fuck,” your fingers lace through his hair perhaps just a bit too tightly, but a quiet grunt signals his appreciation, “right there.”
“I know where you like my mouth every now and then, sugar,” his words are hot against you as his thumb slides, warm and thick, inside your cunt “Dirty girl.”
Watching you shy away so endearingly squeezes at his chest. You have always given yourself to him so completely. You have always been his girl. His mouth has known every breathtaking inch of your body in a hundred different lifetimes. His heart has known your heart in a thousand more.
Your fingers search out your clit, neglected and crying out for attention, completing that lovely trifecta as you rock your hips, fucking his face without shame.
He is yours and you will take him.
Your belly is burning, white hot and tight, coiling and churning as your body begins to tremble and flush.
“Gonna cum…” A complete sentence seems an impossible task “I— oh, please, please, please,”
His fingers replace his thumb with a feral growl low in his throat, tucking up in behind your clit as you watch his arm begin to move rhythmically below the table.
”Don’t cum,” you order through whimpers and whines that sound anything but authoritative. How difficult it proves to be to be bossy when his tongue is warm and wet where you shouldn’t adore it so damn much.
”I won’t,” his promise is beautifully muffled. “But I want you to do it. Cum for me, fuck doll…give it up pretty.”
You tighten deliciously around his searching tongue and delving fingers as it crawls through you like sinking into a warm bath that swirls with glittering, lilac goldfish. They kiss your skin soft as monarch wings; strange, swimming beings in the waters that are Jacob. It is lovely, though given the filth that has ushered you into this state, maybe that makes no sense.
He works you carefully until your breathing begins to stutter and gasp uncomfortably, and then there is his striking and stunning face - cheeks blazing with desire - kissing and licking up your body as you squirm languidly.
“Was that good, baby?” His teeth are dragging against the swell of your breast now, igniting a fire within you anew.
Jacob, always so cocksure and confident, sounds famished for your approval. How strange.
You hand it over willingly and honestly, on a silver platter of affection, “So, good, Jakey…I love you so much.”
“You taste like fucking candy everywhere,” his praise is little more than a whispered murmur as he buries into the crook of your neck, “I want you in my mouth and under my fingertips forever, for fucking always.”
The tip of his cock, full and hot like velvet, sweeps across your entrance, teasing inside just a breath before pulling back and then nudging in all over again.
“Put it in,” your fingers are clawing lazily at his hips, silently trying to guide him into action, “Fuck Jake, please baby, just slip it inside and—“
He grinds his hips forward, cutting you off, filling you up, pulsing and slick and hot and…
”My girl,” his words are humid at your throat as he whimpers through a physical shudder. “My sugar, my love. That’s my baby, that’s it…taking it so well. You feel so fucking good.”
His wandering fingers find and sweep over your clit with a glide as sweet as satin, and it has you clenching down around him so wildly his eyes snap shut with a furrowed brow, mouth hanging open in a silent moan.
Buried to the hilt now, those eyes lull open to stare down where your bodies connect. “Looks so pretty stretched around my cock. How’d this little cunt ever get so beautiful?”
Your cheek turns to meet the cool of the oak you're draped across, embarrassed in the most blissful way, but he is positively weak for the way his words cause your thighs to tighten around his waist.
His name begins to burn out of your lungs, smoking into the sun-soaked kitchen like a prayer.
”That’s it,” he sounds faraway, like he’s crooning to you from across the room, “My name, sugar…always my name.”
And then, there is his thumb, soaked in your need and brushing against that spot just below where his cock is dragging in and out of your cunt.
A wanton cry for more bleeds out of you, bringing forth another knit of his brow as he sinks inside you to follow the deep thrust of his cock, “‘Oh my’, right sugar? Isn’t that how my fuck doll reacts? All sweet like a lady, to being filled up so full?”
His loving, mocking tone snatches you back full circle to that very first night with him that seems so long ago…he has been all you’ve ever wanted, ever since. He is all you will ever want.
He is every direction, the night and the day, every song ever written…every poem ever wept onto pages, every star that will light the skyline tonight and all the ones that came before. He is every beat of your pulse, every breath in your lungs - and when you breathe your last, it will be his name on your lips.
White explodes behind your eyes as fireworks detonate down deep inside you, sparkling a crackling-like frenetic energy throughout your nervous system until you are tightened up and writhing with it…cumming so hard, so fucking hard, that you nearly force his beautiful cock right out of your body.
He follows your lead and pulls away, tugging at himself violently as you shower down over him like the filthiest, most exquisite drops of summer-of-love rain.
“Oh fuck, sugar, please,” he’s whining as his release lands hot and frantic against your quivering stomach, but for what, neither of you know.
You’re lost in his faraway expression, watching him fight for a deep breath as you search for your own composure when your fingers sweep through a milky ribbon painted across your navel…you want to taste him, but his grip is wrapped firmly around your wrist in an instant, with your fingers nestled against his cashmere tongue.
“I’ll clean my pretty girl up myself, if she doesn’t mind.” His mouth brushes soothingly at your hip just before he begins licking up his own release, eyes cast upwards to your own as you shake, stunned and blissfully shellshocked.
At last, you find your voice as his bubblegum pink tongue curls over the last drop, “You taste good, don’t you, Jakey?”
“Not as good as you, sugar,” His mouth is on yours now, kissing far too sweetly for what you know him to be capable of. “not even close.”
“Shower?” He pops another raspberry into your mouth and then nuzzles against your nose.
”Bath.” You correct, nearly melting into the table beneath his love.
~
A sponge, fresh out of its package and now smothered in body wash, drags across your chest as his chest rests against your back.
”We leave tonight?’ Your voice sounds unfamiliar…too content, too relaxed. It’s been such a long time since you’ve sounded this way. Since you’ve been so completely happy.
”I wish we could stay longer,” he kisses at your drenched, now squeaky clean hair, “just you and me.”
”Me too,” you sigh, settling back into his embrace even more, “but I’m also excited to see those idiots you call brothers. Especially the baby.”
”He’s missed you.” More kisses to clutch at your already stolen heart. “Nothing was the same without you, sugar. Time to come home.”
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove
179 notes · View notes
ladykailitha · 2 days
Text
The Harrington Pattern Part 12
Hey all, this story will wrap up today, so next week it will go back to just one chapter a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays and when Glitters wraps up, Sundays will go back to one a day as well.
A short chapter for the first of two, because this chapter got too long and needed to be cut down a tad and the next part fits better as a whole.
Eddie and Steve finally kiss and just giving Steve the loving crafting circle he needs.
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Tumblr media
Steve got to see where the cast ate their meals, where some of the cast stayed in large tents (for those that had traveled from out of state but couldn’t afford a hotel), he got to meet the people who sold the food to the tourists, and the people who cleaned up every night.
It was marvelous.
“So was the two events they were trying to schedule at the same time, the joust and your trick riding?” Steve asked after they left the cleaners.
Eddie grinned. “Close, the sword fighting and my trick riding. I told them that I would happily run over those bastards, but I didn’t think the horses would appreciate it.”
“I bet that got them to change their tune,” Steve said with a laugh.
“It sure did, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured.
Suddenly they found themselves utterly alone.
“Steve–” Eddie began, but Steve placed his fingers on his lips.
“Just wait,” he said softly. “There’s something I want to give you first.”
Eddie blinked at him. “You bought me a present?” he asked. Well technically he said, “Ym brut me apresemnt?” since Steve still had his fingers over his mouth.
Steve laughed and dug it out of his pocket. “It’s been on a little journey, one that nearly gave me a heart attack,” he murmured, “but Jeff was able to get it back to me in time.”
He handed the small pouch over to Eddie.
Eddie took it gingerly and rubbed it between his fingers as he looked at the small thing that Steve had made for him. But as small as the item itself was the giving of it, was massive.
“I remembered you telling me that your dice bag broke,” Steve mumbled, “and I really wanted to thank you for all your help this weekend. I don’t think I could of done it without you.”
Eddie looked up at Steve with glossy eyes. “It’s perfect, Stevie.”
“I plan on giving a bunch to Katie for her to sell while I make the bigger pieces,” Steve continued, “and Robin said that I should give the first one to you, because it’s special. And you deserve something really special, Eds. Because you’re special to me and I–”
Whatever else Steve was going to say got swallowed up by Eddie kissing him firmly on the lips.
He had just grabbed Steve by the face and locked their lips together.
Steve was stocked into stillness, but that didn’t last long as he pulled Eddie close to him and deepened the kiss.
Eddie let out a happy sigh as they parted for breath. “Wow, baby. You kiss like it might be your last.”
“Eh...” Steve said with a half shrug and a lopsided smile, “when you’ve faced more then one ends of the world, it very well could be.”
Eddie chuckled, pressing their heads together. “You’ve got me there, big boy.”
“Mhmm,” Steve said softly. “And I’ve got you here, too.” His arms tightened around Eddie’s waist, drawing them flush against each other.
Eddie swatted at him. “Sap.”
Steve kissed him again. “If I’m a sap, then you’re my tree.”
“That was corny even for you, honey,” he murmured, swatting at him at playfully.
Steve just laughed.
Tumblr media
The end of the Renaissance Fair had come at last. There had been more then a few bumpy moments, but looking out at all the happy faces being lit up by fireworks, Steve was pleased with the results.
And next year was going to be even better, he had plans for helping the kids have quality costumes like Corroded Coffin boys had.
He might still have to do some altering instead of full on sewing all of the costumes, but he was really looking forward to it.
Katie had told him that he had several people offer her crazy money for the pouch he had accidentally dropped, so he promised her a dozen by the end of next week for her next Fair. In different sizes too.
Eddie had been the one to suggest that. Little coin purses, dice bags, and even handbag sized ones. Eddie was even going to help him find the right materials for it, ones that weren’t as expensive as the little dice bag Steve gave him.
Steve was really looking forward to it.
They hadn’t told the kids yet about their change in relationship. Not yet. They wanted to hold onto it for themselves a little longer.
Though, judging from the look that Will and Mike had sent him, Steve was pretty sure most of them had figured it out anyway.
So what started out with longing gazing into each others’ eyes, ended with holding hands under the cover of darkness as fireworks exploded overhead.
Steve had never been happier and he just knew more happiness was coming his way.
Tumblr media
Steve was proven right when Claudia called him up the next morning.
“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve murmured sleepily.
“I’m sorry, dear,” she said, “did I wake you?”
Steve looked blearily at the clock on the microwave. It was after ten in the morning.
“It’s fine,” he muttered, “I don’t usually sleep this late.”
“While that is certainly true,” Claudia agreed, “you also don’t normally spend three full days at a fair. Too much sun, too much fun, and too little sleep makes for a tired Steve. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Steve blushed. “Thanks, Mrs. Henderson. Was there something you needed?”
“Oh, yes!” she said brightly. “Are you free this afternoon, from around two to four?”
Steve looked over at his calendar and squinted. “Looks like it, unless the nuggets call for rides to wherever.”
Claudia chuckled. “I think they’re going to be just as tired as you and not want to go anywhere today.”
He laughed. “Yeah, probably.”
“So, me and couple of the other moms have a sewing circle every Sunday,” she explained. “And we were all wondering if you wanted to come and join us. We have punch and little treats and spend two hours working on whatever project we have going on while we fill each other in on what’s happening in our lives.”
“You gossip,” Steve accused, teasingly.
She giggled. “Gossip is such tawdry word.”
“Like your every day language wouldn’t make a sailor blush,” Steve said dryly.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.
“Ma’am, your son has the worst language I’ve ever seen on a teenager,” Steve said, “and I’m damn sure he didn’t get it from his dad. Even when he was alive.”
Claudia’s giggle turned into a full on laugh. “All right, you’ve got me there, Steve. So you’ll come?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Fantastic!” she cried. “We meet at Joyce’s this week.”
“This week?” Steve asked, already plotting what to bring as a treat and which project he wanted to start.
“Yes,” Claudia explained. “We rotate every week so that one person isn’t stuck hosting every time. And if you come often enough, we’ll have it your place once in a while, as well.”
Steve frowned appreciatively. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later then.”
Claudia squealed in excitement. “I can’t wait. We’re going to teach you how to use a sewing machine!”
That really piqued Steve’s interest. “Oh yeah?”
“It was Karen Wheeler’s idea,” she explained. “Karen doesn’t sew like the rest of us, but she does cross-stitch while we all chat. Apparently Mike was telling her about all the sewing you did for him and his friends and that it was all by hand.”
Steve nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, my parents thought sewing was for girls, so I learned by hand.”
“Make sure to bring some examples of your work,” she said. “I want to blow Olive Peterson’s mind. She’s of the same mind as your parents, even though what she does, the knitting, was originally only for men.”
“I have these pouches I’ve decided to make and sell,” Steve said with a grin, “so I can bring those to work on and bring some of the work I did for the kids to show off.”
“That’s brilliant!” Claudia said. “I see you later!”
Steve said goodbye and hung up.
This just might be the thing he needed.
Tumblr media
Part 13
Don't quote me on the knitting originally being for men thing, it was something I learned when I read a 12 Dancing Princesses retelling years and years ago. The soldier in the story knitted to keep awake at night.
Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369
@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach
@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog
@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690
@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt
@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss
@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv
@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system CLOSED
147 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
trading paper dolls
Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T Word Count: 2228
Summary: Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan.
“You even lookin’ at that paper? Ain’t seen you look at that paper in five minutes.”
Alex smiled to himself as he redirected his gaze to the sketch he was working on. Macon was right: he hadn’t been looking. He didn’t need to. He’d done half a dozen of these sketches already since getting forced into this camp and they were all the same—a collection of curves. Eyes, cheeks, lips. Shoulders, breasts, waist. Hips, thighs, calves. Little round rear, if the request came with a specification for that kinda thing. He had his style. He could draw pin-ups in his sleep.
“I thought your neck didn’t work,” he reminded Macon without twisting his own to look up at him in the higher bunk. “Guess it works just fine for snoopin’ over my shoulder.”
“‘Snoopin’’?” Macon echoed, sounding affronted. “Bullshit, snoopin’. Ain’t no privacy here to violate, Alex. You don’t want me to be able to see over your shoulder, you better go sit on the roof.”
Alex released a soft snort and kept sketching. His latest connoisseur of provocative art wanted a brunette. That was easy enough; Alex added a quick outline of hair—more curves—and shaded it in.
“You get tired of that?” Macon asked a few minutes later. Apparently, he’d abandoned the book Alex had brought him.
“Why, you get tired of the smokes these boys are payin’ me to draw ’em?” Alex shot back.
“Not drawin’—drawin’ that. Your little paper dolls.”
Paper dolls. Alex hadn’t thought of it like that. (He liked Macon too much to be insulted; even if he had been insulted, it wouldn’t be enough to put even the smallest dint in the loyalty they had to one another. Nobody was going to watch out for them like they’d watch out for each other.) The drawings were sweet, in a way, with the coy smiles and O’s of surprise on the girls’ mouths, with the way their delicate fingers twirled telephone cords and pressed with childlike thoughtfulness into their dimpled chins. They belied what the boys who asked for them claimed to want: somethin’ sexy to look at while they pulled themselves off whenever they were alone. Or felt alone. Or even felt alone enough.
No, Alex knew what he was really giving them: a little reminder of tenderness. Tenderness even above femininity, because only one guy had asked him to draw a gal in something see-through, another in a negligée (Like Rita Hayworth in Life, he’d said), and the rest had just wanted to see anything that wasn’t a uniform. Props? A tray of muffins coming out of an oven, a basket of kittens, a field of wildflowers. Things that spoke of home comforts and abundance, that evoked softness and pleasing scents. If these drawings of his were like paper dolls, it made sense, because the boys were playing with them—playing make-believe. And so Alex didn’t mind that he’d done six of these already. It made the white boys happy. It passed the time. It kept him and Macon in whatever pitiful item counted as a luxury on this day, this week. If Alex were to be here as long as some of the boys had been here already, he figured it’d help having something to occupy his mind.
“Not yet,” he said, and drew a pair of sunglasses dangling from the girl’s hand, then put a look on her face like she knew you’d watch her bend down to pick them up when she inevitably dropped them. “Anyway, what else would I draw?”
“Pin-up Hitler?”
They both cracked up.
“Alright, alright,” Macon said as their laughter trailed off. “How ’bout these boys?”
Alex lifted his pencil from the paper. That was another one done.
“Our boys?” he checked distractedly, examining his work.
In the silence that followed his words, he could just about hear Macon rolling his eyes.
“The boys in this bunkroom,” Alex corrected.
“Yeah. Think you could draw ’em?”
At this, Alex swivelled around to look at Macon, eyes narrowed and unimpressed.
“Of course I could, but I shouldn’t.” Expression clearing, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Don’t you want them to like us? Trust us?”
“Maybe I don’t like or trust them,” Macon replied. Alex sighed, then Macon added, “I never said show the drawings. Just do it for our entertainment, shit.”
“And what are you paying me in for this entertainment?”
“In the promise that I won’t snitch to the white boys that you doin’ pin-ups of ’em,” Macon said, chuckling.
Alex grinned and shook his head.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Well, you know. If you ain’t too busy.”
They laughed harder this time, until Macon swore and laid back, rubbing his neck.
Alex did think for a while. He sat there thinking, then got up and walked over to the window to take a look at the bleak view as he thought some more, then sat again. His pencil was there on his bunk. He had more paper. The other guys from their bunkhouse weren’t about—walking someplace, or scheming, maybe. Buck Cleven had let Alex in on the general idea of a breakout, which was significant, but he knew he was still a newcomer, still on the outside.
It was that frustration that made Alex pick up the pencil. It was the fact that Buck had been the only one to initiate a conversation with him that made Alex choose him as his subject. He just knew his face best, had looked at it openly while they’d talked. Round eyes, full mouth. Not so different from his regular paper dolls.
When Egan and Brady wandered in, Alex calmly slipped the sketch of Buck behind the commissioned drawing of the brunette with the sunglasses. When he got the chance, he’d hide it someplace better, but he doubted there was a more suspicious group on earth than his fellow kriegies; if he tried now, it’d give them reason to distrust him, and if they discovered what he was attempting to conceal... it would be hard to explain.
He retraced lines he’d already drawn, darkened the girl’s hair. Brady and Egan were playing cards on the other side of the room. Alex was thinking about casually lying back and pulling out a book he might tuck the drawing of Buck into when DeMarco swung through the doorway and announced Nazis were ordering men out of the neighbouring hut to toss the rooms.
If he hadn’t had to help Macon down from the higher bunk, Alex might’ve had time. If he could’ve done more than flip the pages over, they might not’ve been noticed. If he hadn’t submitted to Egan’s authority as a superior officer and let him be the last out of the room, ensuring the rest of them got out safely, Alex might not’ve worried as he stood outside in the cold, waiting for Egan to follow them out. Waiting, it seemed, for too long before Egan stepped out and the Nazis shoved past him on their way in.
When it was over, Alex walked back inside to find that one of the pages he’d left on his bunk was no longer there.
Bucky leaned against the side of the hut, fingering the folded paper in his pocket. He’d creased it in half quickly, and the edges didn’t line up, giving his fingers something to worry as he stood there, mind swooping and turning like one of the planes the man to whom the paper belonged flew.
It hadn’t been nosiness driving Bucky across the room once DeMarco, Brady, Jefferson, and Macon were out. It hadn’t been mere curiosity. Bucky knew Buck had spoken to the new guy, Jefferson, about helping them work out the topography surrounding the camp. Bucky’s fear, when he saw those pages left behind, was that one of them might have featured some kind of map. And then all their gooses would’ve been cooked. The Nazis would’ve known they were thinking of escape more seriously than a distant fantasy that involved a place to get a steak dinner instead of the crap food that barely kept them alive. Rifling swiftly through Jefferson’s pages was self-preservation—the preservation of the whole group of them. Bucky hadn’t expected to find what was now in his pocket.
Looking at it made him less sure of how to feel, and so he kept teasing himself instead, stroking the edges of the page without taking it out of his coat. Part of what he felt was relief; since it wasn’t a map Jefferson had been drawing, there had been no close call. It also meant Jefferson wasn’t stupid, hadn’t left anything so valuable, so incredibly damning, sitting out in the open like a present for their jailers. But that line of thinking got tangled up with another of the emotions the paper provoked in him: impulsive, hot-headed fury that Jefferson would do a thing like that, would draw Buck like that. Bucky wanted to demand Jefferson tell him who the hell he thought he was to put that down on paper. Only, a confrontation would’ve escalated immediately into a scene—Bucky didn’t trust himself to handle it coolly, not this—which would likely mean having to explain exactly why he was so angry with Jefferson. Buck would see the drawing. Onlookers would see a fracture in their group and think they were weak. It was no fucking good, and so Bucky stood there touching the paper until he couldn’t stand it any longer and, after glancing up and down the corridor between the huts, slipped the page out for further scrutiny.
It was a good likeness; Bucky had known it was Buck right away. If he fought back all the other complex feelings he had about it, he could appreciate that Jefferson had a talent. Bucky cast his gaze around again, then permitted himself to enjoy the drawing on the basis of its artistic merit alone. That was certainly the shape of Buck’s face. Those eyes could belong to no other. He could see what Jefferson had intended with the pose—Buck’s chest thrust forward, his ass pushed out—but it wasn’t as exaggerated as many pin-ups Bucky had seen, and there was still a recognizable Buck-ness in the set of the shoulders, the way the forearms crossed and rested on the bent knee. Jefferson had put Buck in the room they called the library, one of Buck’s shoes planted on a chair as he stared unflinchingly at his observer, those eyes that could belong to no other set in the face with a shape Bucky knew well. And the mouth. The mouth was unmistakably Buck’s too. Like this, Buck could acknowledge what a pretty mouth it was, how swell it would’ve looked on any female pin-up model, but how right it was on the face of his best friend.
Bucky swallowed and refolded the paper. He undid his coat just enough to stuff the drawing into the breast pocket of his shirt, a little closer to his body, a little more secure, he told himself. He possessed no plan for what he’d do with it. Buck, of course, could never see. Jefferson sure as hell wasn’t getting it back; Bucky decided that having to wonder what had happened to the drawing would have to be sufficient punishment for having the nerve to do it in the first place. In a tight moment, Bucky knew he might have to eat the paper. He might have to chew and swallow, forcing Buck’s confident stare and plump lips down his throat. He would hold this depiction of Buck inside himself, break him down and digest him. No one could take it from him. No one would know.
He sniffed and flicked a finger across the end of his nose. He strolled along in the shadow of the hut and, just before stepping out into the pale winter sunshine, pressed his hand to his chest over the place where the drawing rested. No one would know.
Conscious of the need for his shoes to not wear out in case the ideal escape conditions presented themselves, Bucky kept his steps light as he crossed the dirt yard. One of the guards was watching him and Bucky offered a sarcastic smile.
“Beautiful day, huh, Fritz?”
He kept walking until he found Buck. It seemed he was always walking until he found Buck.
They were not yet out of things to say to one another, and there were always new silences to not fill. They could talk close—what petty grievances did they have about the smell of Crank’s socks, the way Murphy had started chewing his fingernails?—and they could talk far—making up baseball scores for the teams back home. Bucky was comforted by their talk, by the undemanding presence of Buck at his side.
Buck was talking to Jefferson, and when Bucky sidled up, he slung an arm around Buck’s shoulders, feeling the paper in his pocket crumple slightly. He looked at Buck as he carried on speaking like Bucky was no interruption. He watched Buck’s lips move, listened to the low, slow, sure sound of his voice. Feeling Jefferson’s eyes on him, Bucky shifted his gaze and stared back. I’ll keep your secret, he told Jefferson with a lift of his eyebrows, and you keep mine.
71 notes · View notes
Note
Marcy: (trying to draw a page of her webcomic but keeps losing focus because of music from outside the room)
Lily, Percy, & Maddie: (listening to the music)
Marcy: (comes out) Will you turn that down?! What even is that?! It just sounds like noise!
Lily: Aw, c'mon, mom! It's the newest style!
Percy: Yeah! Get with it!
Marcy: ...
Maddie: Mommy? Mommy...? Moooooooommmmyyyyyyy...?
(Marcy flashbacks to when she and Anne were hanging out in her room as teenagers)
Mrs. Wu: (bursts in) Will you turn that racket off?! It's just a bunch of noise anyway!
Anne: It's not noise, Mrs. Wu! It's K-Pop!
Marcy: Don't waste your breath, Anne. She wouldn't understand. She's not with it.
Mrs: Wu: (crosses her arms) Oh, yeah? Well, I used to be "with it." But then they changed what "it" is. Now, whatever I'm "with" isn't "it" and what's "it" seems weird and scary to me. And mark my words, it'll happen to you!
(End of flashback)
Lily: -om? Mom? Are you okay?
Percy: Do you need to sit down?
Marcy: No, I'm fine... I think I just need a glass of water or something.
[Sasha comes home]
Sasha: I’m home! How’re my babies?
Calamity Siblings: *”Hi Mom”s mixed with mumbling*
Lily: Oh yeah, Mama Marcy is in her room crying after she asked us to turn our music down.
Sasha: Really? That’s why? Hmm, well I’m going to go check on her. I’ll be back depending on what happened.
[Sasha goes to Marcy’s office where she’s working on some sad art while dramatically crying]
Sasha: Marbles, what’s wrong?
Marcy: Sashy, I-I-I-I’m not with it anymor-or-ore! I’m old!!
Sasha: Oh, I see. Well I’ll let you in on a secret. I haven’t understood most of the new slang my patients have used in the last 5 years. So if anyone’s an old lady it’s me. And I think I’m still pretty hot, don’t you?
Marcy: Y-yeah. Smoking’.
Sasha: So you’ve nothing to fear about being old. Anne and I still love you and always will. Let’s turn into hot old ladies together, okay?
Marcy: *giggling* okay, okay. I guess I should’ve expected I’d eventually get out of the loop considering the internet moves way faster with trends and memes.
Sasha: That’s my wife, my adorable lil optimistic nerd.
56 notes · View notes
Text
Just realized I don’t think I’ve like ever really dug into how I imagine the infection works with Infected/Kasper
To be fair I think it’s been pretty clear just based on my drawings, the ask blog, the uh other stuff also that I forgot
Very ice king/Simon Petrikov sort of situation (I FUCKINGN. LOVE APOCALYPSE SIMON FOR THOSE THAT WERE THERE FOR THAT HI. YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL.)
Kasper is like. A person. Like he acts like a person and is a person (crazy I know) the virus parasite whatever you wanna call it that’s what makes Infected kinda just. Weird. Like something that is vaguely similar but more like something pretending to be him on face value.
infected is a slur sayer put that boy in a cod lobby NOW!
Like ice king is kinda of a severely skewed memory of Simon, yanno? He’s his own kinda silly weird thing but there’s a few parts that’s like oh that’s Simon (😢) same sort of idea
It also kinda plays into an idea I had that Kasper just wasn’t particularly close with anyone outside of Lampert, like those two were basically siblings they literally did nothing unless the other was there, And I think it kind of works itself out, because all the others don’t really seem to care very much about infected beyond yea that’s infected and he is gross.
When kasper was infected, other people just didn’t really notice as much because again he kinda jsut acts at a very flat face value of the person that Kasper was
I don’t know if any of what I’m saying is making sense bare with me
It’s why Lampert really jsut can’t stand Infected, Infected is a bad caricature of Kasper and it’s sickening (also literally, I mean Infected is gross and snotty nasty)
I think how it went was like, Kasper gets whatever it is from the thrift store that has the infection in it (I like to think it’s the roomba, because it’s ironic and also I bought a roomba once and it was fucking full of cockroaches and it took months to get rid of them.)
It infects him and at first it’s like ah shucks sick again guess I’ll stay indoors, but then it kinda just progresses to complete isolation
Kasper may have had pretty bad anger issues but he never took it out on the people closest to him (Lampert) so.. yea
Anyway yah isolates for a while and then suddenly appears in public again, still sick but very much not the same LOL I hate that guy anyway bye im gonna spend exactly $1.28 now
53 notes · View notes
gascansposts · 2 days
Text
Hmmm yes colors
Tumblr media
I gotta do scar maps and also full body stuffs next! And outfit changes (mostly for Gid and Gricko (Hootsie too but that’s a given)) which means research! Fun!! I. Thinking of giving hootsie a little Chest plate and gauntlets for when she gets knighted by the fairy dragon (forgot his name) uhhhh feel free to use as pfps or like. Whatever really, just give credit if your using my exact designs or using these drawings please.
Also also (a lil unrelated but still) I might be able to take commissions soon!! Which like- awesomesauce tbh. I‘ve been thinking about doing commissions for a while and while I don’t know how they work or what sites to use or literally anything about how it works I’m definitely excited to try! I‘d like y’all’s views on if you’d like to commission me to get a good gist on the audience I’d be marketing to haha. (But in all honesty I’d draw or paint anything anyone asks, I like drawing more than money haha)
Anywho I hope you enjoy another segment of vagabonds and vagrants :)
42 notes · View notes
neo404 · 2 days
Note
Reader not even knowing he is into guys till he meet and starts liking nick after harboring feelings for a while he randomly asks nick out while they are hanging out
New Feelings.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: your friend Chris introduces you to his brother Nick, not knowing that you’ll develop feelings for him.
Tw: cursing
I don’t remember when I started feeling like this. I think from the first time I saw him something changed inside of me. It was fall, Chris wanted to go hang out at a park and said his brother will come too, when I saw Nick for the first time something clicked in my brain, maybe it was his tattoos or his messy blonde hair, either way, I was infatuated with him. I got closer to him and started to hang out alone.
Most times I find myself looking at him, staring at his blue eyes, his smile. At first it was scary, I have never felt this way towards another guy, but after a while thinking and listening to him laugh, I realized this feeling is not momentarily.
I know Nick likes guys, I know he would date someone like me, I just don’t know if he would date me. It makes me go crazy to think about him rejecting me, but I’m more scared of never telling him how much I want to be with him. I truly believe he is the most amazing human being alive, he’s funny and handsome, hard working and kind.
‘’Are you fucking listening?’’ Nick softly punches my arm. We are sitting at the same bench we were sitting the day we met, it has been a few months since that day, a lot has changed.
‘’Sorry, I was thinking.’’
‘’Yeah, like you can think. What where you thinking about?’’
‘’Do you wanna go on a date with me?’’ I say without hesitating, he looks confused.
‘’What? Is this some kind of joke?’’
‘’Of course not, why would I joke about something like this?’’
‘’A date? Aren’t you like… straight?’’ he seems nervous.
‘’I’m not.’’
‘’I didn’t know.’’
‘’Me neither… Nick, look. I like you, a lot, I can’t stop thinking about you and us being together, I’m scared of this not working out, I totally get it if you don’t feel the same way but to be honest, I was more afraid of never having the courage to tell you. So, yeah, just tell me hat you feel, no hard feelings.’’
‘’I can’t believe this. I thought you liked girls.’’
‘’I do.’’ I mutter.
‘’I know. I mean like, only girls. Whatever, what I want to say is I like you too, I thought it was obvious, I had to force myself to act a certain way so you didn’t notice it. But I guess I should have just shown my true feelings. I’d love to go on that date with you.’’ He smiles warmly at me.
‘’Really? That’s awesome.’’ I smile widely, my cheeks burn a little. ‘’I already have a plan, oh god, that’s embarrassing, I said it before I though.’’
‘’You are so cute. Tell me about this plan.’’ He laughs at me and grabs my hand softly; I smirk and quickly glance at our hands.
‘’So, I was thinking. Picnic, arcade and ice cream. At the picnic we can do cute things like draw each other or something like that.’’
‘’Oh my god, I have seen people do that all over my tiktok. We have to do it.’’
‘’Great. So, maybe this weekend? Like Saturday maybe.’’
‘’That’s good for me… Have you told Chris about this’’ he says the last part looking at our hands.
‘’No. I wanted to tell him after I made us official, so, not yet. And about the also liking boys too, I don’t think it’s necessary to come out to them, maybe I can casually drop it in one of our conversations.’’ I say calmly.
‘’Sounds great. So, when do you plan to make us official?’’ I chuckle at this.
‘’After a few dates, I want to make sure that you fall in love with me as much as I fell for you, but I think that’s impossible.’’
‘’God, you are smooth. I like that idea, having dates, with you. It sounded almost impossible to me.’’
‘’We’ll we are here now. Sorry for making you think otherwise.’’ My thumb starts to rub his hand.
‘’It’s not your fault, I’m glad you said something about it.’’
‘’Me too.’’
Even when my confession wasn’t conventional, or the most romantic one, I know my feelings for him are real, and I’ll give my best for our next couple of dates to be the best he has ever had in his life. I’m gonna make sure that he sees how good of a boyfriend I will be. I can’t wait for us to finally be together, and for me to not hide my feelings for him anymore.
29 notes · View notes
Text
I’ve been thinking a lot about how people’s reactions to certain queer shows and something I think we need to examine how we treat more ‘dark’ and ‘emotional’ shows versus more ‘happy’ shows in this case I’m gonna be talking about the “debate” between Young Royals and Heartstopper.
Firstly these shows exist in two different lanes, and draw in two different audiences and potential age ranges, in my opinion, Young Royals is for older teenagers (think juniors or seniors or someone who is about to graduate high school and is going into college) while Heartstopper is geared towards those who are just starting high school or in the middle of it and is in that transitional period of their lives. Obviously, if you are not in these age ranges you can still consume and enjoy these shows, But I want to discuss how people act like they both can’t exist and you can’t like both or both shows existing for a reason. I’ve never really been a fan of punching down or belittling queer media (unless it’s harmful) Queer media in all forms is still lacking (especially those mediums centering WLW relationships). That being said the debate of which show is better is honestly so tired.
For people who say Young Royals is so much better (don’t get me wrong it is an amazing show and by all means like whatever you want) but liking it more because it’s “darker and more realistic” compared to Heartstopper which is "much happier" and "unrealistic," To me is so disingenuous because firstly so what? campy shows that feature queer characters deserve to be unrealistic, What's wrong with being unrealistic? Queer media has been subject to the Burry Your Gays narrative for decades or extremely unhealthy tropes and storylines so what's so wrong with having storylines and shows that are unrealistic or extremely happy? (even though the themes in Heartstopper are realistic).
Have you thought about how that may be an intentional choice? Now bare with me here this may be my over-analytic brain at work but Heartstopper has more or less some of the same themes as Young Royals just shot in a very vibrant and colorful manner to showcase how happy and colorful young love is BUT if you actually have watched the show or read the graphic novels you would know the show and graphic novels cover some heavy themes.
SPOILERS AFTER THIS POINT……
I want you to keep the song Pumped up Kicks by Foster the People in mind throughout this...I have a point I promise. Heartstopper is shot in a very poopy colorful way and in my opinion, symbolizes how when you’re young and in love everything feels warm, colorful, and vibrant. While Young Royals doesn't utilize this cinematic style they do use some form of vibrancy to convey tone and emotion. In Young Royals many of the scenes featuring Simon and Willhem's 'good moments' feature the sun especially shining on Simon when Willie is looking at him or whenever they are just in each other's company, this is especially prominent in the last scenes of the last two episodes of season 3.
So while people's criticisms of Heartstopper can be warranted (not saying you can't dislike the show) the comments that it's just so bubbly and bright just aren't true. The last season of Heartstopper saw multiple characters go through traumatic situations and it has been building up that way from the very first scenes in the first season of the show (but for the sake of time I'm only going to discuss both main characters in the two shows) Charlie not only is still struggling with being outed but is also battling with an eating disorder, this is foreshadowed throughout the first two seasons leading up to its inevitable blatant reveal when he is at dinner with Nick and his family where Nick starts to piece together why he is never hungry, passed out on the Paris trip and never finishes his food, which leads his to eventually research the signs of an ED. Nick is also still figuring himself out when it comes to his Bisexuality, while also dealing with the feelings of, feeling abandoned by his father, and having to reckon with the fact his brother is not supportive and dismissive of his sexuality and relationship.
Now before I said keep Pumped Up Kicks in mind that's because while this song has an upbeat, catchy tempo the song actually has a really dark undertone and meaning. So while Heartstopper is shot in a very vibrant colorway most of its characters and content of the show deal with dark themes and it's not all just a happy love story, and if the script for the next season follows the graphic novel closely, then we will see the characters go through even more challenges which also falls inline with the "darker" more emotionally message of the show. So to end this so it doesn't become a dissertation, both shows more or less have the same themes they just exist in two different lanes, I don't know why exactly people are fighting for one to be more valid than the other. When both can exist and be impactful to both or each audience, more queer shows need to exist where the characters are just happy and in love and I need y'all to unpack why you view more doom and gloom (for a lack of a better word) queer shows or movies are more valid than ones where the characters are just happy and have relatively in some aspects great experience when it comes to young love and figuring out one's identity. Sepreatlty why do you want these characters to suffer to find love? Why do characters have to go through something traumatic for their identity to be more valid and for you to relate and want to root for it more versus the latter?
Anyway, this was longer than I intended it to be but I just had to get my thoughts out there. TL;DR: Heartstopper and Young Royals are two great shows and if you think one is better than the other cause it has darker themes you are missing the point or probably objectively missed the dark undertones of the show, and one isn't more valuable than the other.
27 notes · View notes
meepmoopdraws2 · 2 days
Text
Since my hand has been hurting too much to draw I give you my unhinged unfiltered not proofread thoughts… K so like I know what Ryan and Oliver keep saying… and I hear them… vulnerable this… new that… I love you to the core blah blah… but I need them to be so realistic about this. What do you mean we’re going to see them interact in new ways we haven’t seen before. Um yeah freakin right… the only difference is going to be that their going to acknowledge that their doing it in front of our salad. NEW? U mean they’re gonna flirt, cry, be touchy, be parental, be honest, be gay, be nervous, happy, not subtle, never not together, telling each other everything? Angsty when they’re sad? NEW? WHY DO U THINK WE SHIP THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE. Sorry it’s making me laugh but I just don’t believe them “new”. New my a*s. You’re just going admit that we’re not complete clowns. The only ONLY thing that would be new that I can think of is them actually talking about their relationships. Buck dating a guy and Eddie’s sexuality arc? But not their dynamic. That will not be new. Just louder?
Side note: Since the beginning of this show Ive been rooting for a bisexual Buck who just is. He knows who he is, Maddie does, and people are just oblivious. Basically that the extent of his “coming out” is him just talking about whatever and it’s a non thing… like “omg I dated this guy who was obsessed with alligators” and we move on. Its so powerful to have that kind of rep too. Even if they have a realization arc for him this season I would rather it be something more along the lines of him getting asked out by a guy or vice versa and him being like “at some point I felt like I had to fit the majority so I just stopped letting myself feel anything for men. Ive always liked them ive been with them…” so on and so forth. Or “yeah blank asked me out and we had fun” and blank is a guy and no one is like “U LIKE MEN?!” Or even if they are he’s just like “yeah haven’t you been knew?” Imo the realization arc there should be more Eddie realizing he’s jealous of Buck even when he’s with a guy”
On the other hand-Eddie’s sexuality arc is a really beautiful opportunity. Especially him talking with Athena and Bobby. Cause I feel like Eddie would have so much guilt or has so much guilt. Like he feels like he wasted so much of Shannon’s life when he was never able to love her in the way she loved him and then she died. And Bathena are obviously like “sometimes life works out that way but you got Christopher and a beautiful friendship and nothing would change that-do you really think she would hold that against you.” And Bobby is like “I got a second chance” Athena js like “I don’t regret that love it led me to such a beautiful thing.” Etc etc. and Eddie realizes Athena is Buck. Okay now im rambling and incoherent byee
31 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
𝜗𝜚 ❤︎ ໋𓈒 ˖ It’s My Scene .ᐟ 🎀⭐️🫧
Tumblr media
…📧; Ugh! im literally just can help but always steal the spotlight, im literally the ultimate “Little Miss Steal The Spotlight”!! so might call it me being stuck up but its so true though , every time im in a room im always best dressed and have the most alluring aura that just naturally draws people in and i can’t help but to always be the center of attention and not even exaggerating when i say this but the world literally revolves around me i mean just think about it im the prettiest,cutest,best-dressed,dolliest,most spoiled girl ever!!!
it’s really not my fault that im so pretty,smart,talented,spoiled,stylish,talented and everyone fawns over me that’s just the way it is and the way it is supposed to be i mean some might complain that i have princess syndrome but honestly i’d call it just knowing my worth and knowing i was born to be spoiled and have everything i want!!! i don’t care what people have to say i know for a fact that i was never meant to have a hard life and i will never settle for anything below princess standards bc im like all the way in the clouds and everyone else is just low to the ground!!!
No one is perfect except 4 me! im theprettiest,dolliest,most spoiled,most perfect babydoll ever and i only deserve and accept things that are up to my standards call me whatever you want i don’t care that’s the way it is snd the way it always will be there’s only one perfect person and its me sorry about it!!!🎀⭐️
Tumblr media
24 notes · View notes
wyrm-clangen · 2 days
Note
Orangestar looks like she’s ready to retire and needs to be a kittypet again so she can be pampered and spoiled for the remainder of her life
Velvetstar reminds me of a catfish and I wanna put them in a tank and watch them do their thing
Tornstar makes me think of a cookie n I wanna eat them (they have my favorite design of the leaders)
And Beestar… I respect their authority. I don’t wanna touch them or even look at them wrong. I am at Beestar’s service and do whatever it is they require of me until the end of my days (something seems royal about them and the kinda royal where it’s best you don’t question them haha)
(/pos for all of this btw they all look so neat)
Orangestar's definitely ready to retire. She's going a bit senile at this point and doesn't leave camp too often. Usually at gatherings nowadays, it's the deputy Rattlejay speaking for her, but Rattlejay is ALSO starting to get up there and is starting to think about her replacement. (I really need to draw the deputies from this era...)
I'm SO glad that Velvetstar makes you think of a catfish, that's what I was going for! The whiskers are a trait of FloodClan major family lines. Cats like Eddymist, I imagine, were adopted into the clan, thus no whiskies. She would escape captivity and wreak havoc.
Tornstar is one of my favorites because she's, like, one of those naturally five pound cats; she's tiny. But that doesn't stop her from hunting birds of prey with her clanmates. Plus, according to the game, she's clairvoyant and strange, so I imagine her as being incredibly intimidating.
Beestar is actually a very insecure cat! She's got a regal stone face, but is a wreck of nerves on the inside. I like to think that she suffered from terrible stage fright when she first became leader. Her mate Sharpdust is her deputy and her biggest cheerleader, they're very cute together.
28 notes · View notes
burberrycanary · 2 days
Text
I thought I’d be feeling more triumphant to have wrapped up my post-TFATWS stucky endgame fix-it series, A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River, which is now complete. And believe me, I’m pleased and relieved to have the whole thing out in the world. But it’s also bittersweet and there’s an odd little feeling of let-down, too. 
I’m going to miss these versions of Steve and Bucky—and Sam and Sarah. These are the most psychologically complex stories I’ve written as Steve and Bucky slowly and arduously figure out how to live with themselves and with each other in the post-Snap, post-Return, post-Endgame world as it is. How do you move forward after all the mistakes and injustice and everything you’ve had to survive to reach this point?
Not an easy question.
But in the same way that I view Steve and Bucky as fundamentally hopeful characters, these stories also contain a lot of joy and hardwon moments of happiness. As Steve thinks at one point—
But that’s the world, bleak turned one way and then somehow still beautiful when turned inside-out with the bleak waiting again for the next reverse, not really gone anywhere: just out of sight.
I’ve been working on this series for years—I started the earliest drafts back at the end of 2021—and it’s been very much a labor of love. So if you’re interested in trying an Endgame fix-it that doesn’t let Steve off the hook for the choices he made but also gives him the chance to do better; and a story that lets Bucky keep the hardwon connections and growth we see in TFATWS while bringing Steve and Bucky, these two profoundly intertwined characters, back together and then asks: after everything, how could these characters live, really live, in the world again?
“If you didn’t live in New York,” Bucky asks while passing over another ice cold beer before he takes his own, “where would you go?” Steve has seen a lot of the world, in passing, coming from one fight or heading to the next. “I don’t know.” He slumps further down in the sloped deck chair and tilts his head to watch Bucky’s face in profile, silhouetted against the heat-warmed bricks and the long slice of purpling sky that hangs between buildings over the road. “Anywhere you wanna see?” Bucky wets his lower lip and takes a swallow of the sour beer. Steve shoves down the desire to draw Bucky’s hands, doing the ordinary things of living, until he can bury Bucky in a cascade of those images. “Some days, feels like there’s not much in the world I haven’t seen. Seeing it during peacetime, though, that’d be something.” Bucky slants that dark, dangerous grin at him that’s straight from the spring of ‘44. “If you can call this peace.” Reaching out, Steve offers the neck of his beer. “What’s peace, anyway?” Bucky clinks their two bottles together. “What the hell is peace?”
This series is the story of two old soldiers trying to find some peace, whatever that may be.
Read A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy)
24 notes · View notes
butterscotchx98 · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Uhhh destiel for ur viewing
5K notes · View notes
ink-the-artist · 7 months
Text
Dude some of those popular so-bad-its-good movies are unironically outsider art and I don’t think they get enough appreciation for that
707 notes · View notes