#Study blurbs

[heavenbarnes]

@abcdbleh you little beauty 🫶🏼 this is in the “cellular-device-universe” | p1 p2 p3 p4

you had managed an incredible feat, what with bringing your older bf!simon around to the idea of sex over the air waves.

you’d effectively achieved the impossible.

well, something you’d thought impossible given who he was as a person. some guy, simple guy, practical and not remotely interested in anything he doesn’t think worth his time.

that’s the thing- when it comes to you?

everything is worth his time.

you could tell him that you’d booked an all expenses paid couples trip to the fucking moon and he’d have your bags in the car before you’d even finished speaking.

he likes that look on your face when you’re happy.

you’d imagined that getting him to send you videos whilst he stroked his cock would be difficult, but now your hidden folder is bursting at the seams.

you had no idea how easy it’d be to have him send you photos in just his briefs, tattooed arm barely illuminated by low light as his large hand gripped himself through the fabric.

but here you were.

laid back in your bed, awfully roomy without a hulking great simon to take up three quarters of it, your phone was pressed to your ear.

“what y’mean, love?”

the deep, rolling rumble of his voice would probably do it if you tried hard enough. you could have him read the menu from the local chinese takeout and make do. he just had that effect on you.

“i mean- i want you to touch yourself and talk me through it, si”

you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, a stuttered little exhale and a crackle over the line. he was in the middle of nowhere (far as you were concerned) but he could still find it to keep you satisfied.

simon would never have you settle for less.

the quiet you could hear on his end wasn’t nerves, you knew him well enough to immediately detect- inexperience?

there was very little simon didn’t know how to do in the bedroom but bring any virtual factors (like a cellphone) and he just needed a couple directions.

he needed an order.

“si, i want to get off to your voice, the sound of you touching yourself- i want you to cum and i want to hear about it in excruciating detail”

you could hear how scratchy his military grade blanket was, woollen and likely older than you, being pushed down his body.

no shuffle of clothing, he was already stark naked in his cot. he’d been with rest of the 141 long enough, you just assume they’ve all seen each other in their entireties. sharing rooms, sharing showers.

you can’t think about that kind of thing too long. the implications that come with it.

the sound of simon spitting in his palm drags you out of steam filled visions, kyle asking your boyfriend for help getting his back, johnny watching wide-eyed but waiting for his signal.

anyway- anyways, the sound of his large palm dragging along his cock had you back in the present for good. you could almost picture the way his foreskin would be rolling down the head.

“already s’fuckin hard for you”

“i bet”

a bet that’d make you a billionaire.

you could count on simon for a lot of things but as sure as the sun rises in the east, that man would be hard for you.

you’d say a gentle breeze would do it. he’d say only if you were blowing.

cheek of him.

faint sounds, faint sounds of his hand tugging on himself but you needed more. you needed it fucking filthy and unmistakable across the line that he was doing one thing.

“more spit, si- need to hear it”

and you could, spit mixed with the leaking pre-cum that was running from his head. soon the sound was circling your eardrums as he worked up a steady rhythm.

“been lookin’ at y’little pictures”

deep sigh as he said it, like he was thinking back to you in compromising positions. you could almost see him with his eyes drifting shut, phone between his ear and shoulder whilst both hands preoccupied by his cock and balls.

“can’t hardly wait to get home to you”

as one hand stroked along his length, running his fingers over the head, the other would be cupping his heavy sack as he rolled them both in his palm.

“y’been teasing me, sweet’art”

large feet would be planted on the threadbare mattress, his thighs tensing the more he tugged himself off. you knew he’d be imagining you in his lap, doing all the work for him so he could focus on running his mouth.

“jus’y wait till i get m’hands on you”

your heart was in your throat with every word he said, you’d no doubt he’d stay true to his word. you had visions of him throwing the front door open and telling you to run.

finding you crawling across the bed to duck down the other side but his grip tightening around your ankle before you could get away.

you had to leave that feeling in the pit of your stomach before you got lightheaded but, as usual, simon knew you better.

“what’s goin’ on in that pretty head f’yours? thinkin’ about all the nasty things i’ll do t’you?”

a squeak of a moan slipped out of you, back arching in the bed as simon chuckled down the line. he always knew exactly what he was doing to you.

calculated man, comes with the territory.

“first thing i’m gonna’ do is stuff my cock in’y, got a couple’a loads saved up just f’you”

you couldn’t imagine how, all the filthy videos he’d been sending you. thick load after thick load spilt over his chest, his thighs, the shower drain.

but, then again, you’ve yet to find a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

“gonna’ keep y’in that fuckin’ bed till y’begging f’mercy”

you could hear it on his voice, the strain that was behind it. he was close, closer than ever but you couldn’t stop him once you got him going.

whenever he was on that precipice of bliss, the things that’d come out of his mouth could turn you inside out.

“gonna’ cum f’you, sweet’art- need you to-“

the blood was rushing so hard in your ears you nearly missed his words as they tapered off into broken moans. nearly missed.

“what d’you need, si? tell me, whatever you need it’s yours”

distant filthy sounds of a wet palm sliding along his cock was ever present in the background of the call. a long sigh drifted from his lips as he spoke.

“tell me t’cum, please”

jesus fucking christ.

there’s no coming back from the sound of simon riley begging.

“cum f’me, simon- need to hear you- make a mess f’me, baby”

the sound that left his chest was filthy, a deep groan intertwined with the sounds of cheap mattress springs. breathy stuttered moans broke through, your name a constant on the tip of his tongue.

he sounded desperate, no doubt still stroking himself even as his hips lifted off the cot. he wasn’t about making it easy on himself.

everything he did was for you.

listening as he rode it out, you could hear him still muttering between the other debauched sounds.

“fuckin’ take it, s’fuckin’ good f’me”

anther broken cry of your name only confirmed it. in simon’s eyes, he wasn’t pumping his cum across in his chest, he was pumping you full of it.

he’d gone too long without the feeling of you wrapped tight around him, only knowing the rough drag of his palm. he’d give anything to be in his bed, buried to the fucking hip in you.

simon’s breathing evened out, broad chest rising and falling with a sticky sheen across it. you could even make out the sound of his head hitting the pillow.

“fucking ‘ell, sweet’art- how was that?”

nothing if not an overachiever.

“perfect, si- you did absolutely perfect”

if he was with you he’d been keening into your touch, a soft side of him that only you were allowed to see.

softening further in his afterglow, you wrapped up with praises and promises to be waiting for him soon as he got home.

your entire body felt like it could sink through the mattress as you curled into his side of the bed, letting the scent of him overwhelm every part of you.

eyes shutting on their own, you’d nearly hit sleep when your cellphone buzzed on the bedside table. a little bleary eyed, you reached for it in the darkness.

“si sent a photo”

your heart sped up, teeth digging into your lower lip as you slide the message open. your screen went from light to dark in an instant.

thick thighs spread apart, toned barrel chest, tattooed arm, and a slightly scarred chin in the shot. in this light you could see it, so faint but still there, the streaks of cum dripping down the lines of his stomach.

the grip on your phone was so tight you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had shattered in your hands. in the corner of your screen, those three dots were taunting you.

your phone buzzed, you could almost hear it in his voice.

“could really do w’you here to clean me up, sweet dreams sweet’art”

[yuwuta]

please feed us some yuuji blurbs there’s a lack of him rn :(

ofc… sweetest boy all time… here’s something was was meant to be a longer project but got lost in the editing whirlwind… love him so bad... 

NEVER LOST IN TRANSLATION, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT 

notes: reader is implied to be american/english-speaking, yuuta and megumi are bilingual, yuuji, bless his soul, is not. i didn’t use italics for conversations between yuuji and megumi because it would all be in japanese, but when they get mixed later in the scene, japanese is differentiated with italics. hope that’s not too confusing lololll

Honestly, Yuuji tried his best in school. Some things came easier than other, but with a bit of hard work, and help from his friends, he always managed to pull pretty good grades. But right now, his biggest regret is not taking english more seriously in high school, because it’s been about three weeks since he met you, and he’s only been able to say maybe five full sentences to you without the help of Yuuta or Megumi translating. 

He was excited when Yuuta said his friend from abroad would be coming to visit and study, but god, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty. To have such pretty eyes, and pretty lips, and pretty hair, to have the prettiest voice in the world despite him only understanding every eighteenth word you say. You’re beautiful to him, and Yuuji thinks that even if he could speak your language fluently, the words would still get caught in his throat. He’s so lovesick, it’s embarrassing—his friends have been harping on him blushing and stuttering over you for the past month, and he can’t even blame them.

“What does she say to you when you guys talk,” Yuuji whines, hovering around Megumi, and not-so-discreetly looking back at you where you’re still sat in the living room laughing with Yuuta, “Does she ever say anything about me? I mean—probably not right? Which is fine! Actually, dont tell me—no, do. Or maybe—”

“She asks about you,” Megumi says, matter-of-fact in delivery, as he places a bag of popcorn in the microwave, but that doesn’t curb Yuuji’s enthusiasm. He’s practically bouncing, if he weren’t already—begging Megumi to spill the details, “What did she ask? Tell me! Tell me!” 

“She once asked if you dye your hair.”

“That’s it?!” Yuuji screams, heartbroken, and visibly deflating.

Megumi shrugs, “Yuuta probably knows more. She’s his exchange buddy friend thing, so ask him.”

“I can’t ask him, he’s right next to her!” Yuuji pouts, “Wait, what does ‘exchange buddy friend thing’ mean? You don’t think they’re more than friends, right…? I can’t blame her, senpai is really pretty, too, and he can actually talk to her… so unfair.” 

“You know, she’s not fluent, but she can understand some Japanese,” Megumi reminds him, “So, she can definitely hear you, and probably understand you.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slump, and once again, he turns around to look back at you. This time, you two make eye-contact, and that instant, Yuuji’s cheeks go pink, a nervous hand raised to wave at you, and instant internal regret at his actions; but, then you smile, and wave back, and Yuuji stays like that, dumbfounded and lovestruck and on autopilot as he waves with hearts in his eyes until Yuuta looks up from his phone and catches him.

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.

“I.. I think I like it, too.”

[little-pondhead]

Both Danny and Phantom have freckles. The only reason Wes can’t use this fact on his conspiracy board, however, is because Danny has freckles in the summer, and Phantom has freckles in the winter.

Every time Wes tries to convince people that Danny and Phantom are the same person, people around him being up this fact and his whole argument crumbles to the ground. He spends weeks trying to find any possible reason Danny’s freckles are on the opposite sides of the seasonal scale.

This is the only reason Danny’s identity has not been blown yet.

[hannie-dul-set]

saw ur post abt idol and ship dynamic so can i request model ricky x fashion designer reader where all of the collection were designed for ricky? like there's a runway event and of course ricky being the main character of the event but also whipped for reader ^^

[when there’s a lock on the door]. ricky shen— whose face is on billboards and advertisements at every corner of the country, whose name is in the mouths of every tabloid, every passerby in the streets, and in every column and every article in weekly magazines— is currently on his knees on worn out the carpet of the dressing room floor.

“eyes up, pretty boy. look at me.”

he’s got his head resting on your lap, buried by his folded arms as a groan rumbles in his throat. the vibrations shoot into your bones when he peers up to look at you. “i’m tired,” he says. “kiss me.” now, you can’t quite pinpoint the correlation between those two phrase, but does logic really matter when forbes-declared, one of the most unattainable men in the country, is driven senseless at the mercy of your touch?

“come and get it.”

those fierce eyes on the runway are gone— half-lidded and replaced by dark gems dipped in sweet, sweet, honey. his once perfectly styled hair is now a mess under your fingers, crisp jacket now wrinkled and folded when he scrambles to his feet, stumbling off-balance in the rush to capture your lips with his.

his entire frame eats up your own, a tight grip on the back of your chair as he groans into your mouth. if the journalists right outside the door could see him like this right now, a storm would brew.

“i thought you were tired,” you laugh softly, fixing your hands on the back of his neck. your eyes flit over to his smudged lipstick. when you bring down a thumb to wipe it off, he presses a kiss to the pads of your fingertip, down to your palm and wrist until his face somehow sinks into the warmth between your neck and right shoulder. ricky is tired. he’s straddling your lap and sinking himself deeper into your scent, his body engulfing yours, and you let him. 

[stevie-petey]

Hi m! I had a short blurb idea for you. Could we see Jonathan's pov after his fight with Nancy, and what drove him to go to bugs house? Also his POV throughout their car ride together? Thank you! ❤️

finally had time to get to this one and YES i can <333

enjoy !

"well then i guess we just dont understand each other anymore."

the pain in nancys voice hasnt left jonathans mind since he dropped her off at home hours ago.

he lays in his bed, sheets cold as the night creeps upon him. do they really not understand each other anymore? jonathan knows he understands nancys frustration, how painful it is to be overlooked, but how can he explain to her that hes unable to understand the feeling of security?

hes never had that before in his life. ever since he was a boy, his life has been defined by instability and insecurity.

it was meeting you that brought some sense of security into jonathans life. youre the only thing jonathan considers a constant in his life; he trusts that youll always be a part of him.

he isnt like nancy. he doesnt have a mom who attends to his needs. a house in a cul de sac with freshly painted shutters. jonathan doesnt have the privilege of being a kid, not when hes been helping to pay for his familys rent ever since he was fourteen and legally able to work. he isnt able to lose a job that can pay for his college like nancy can.

security is a foreign concept to jonathan that he cant understand, yet he understands that the burn within him is his love for nancy. and he understands that he cant lose her.

sighing, jonathan gets out of bed and towards the phone in the kitchen. he has to hear your voice, soothe his nerves, maybe even cry. right now, jonathan needs his best friend.

youll know what to do. you always do.

when he calls you and you sound just as exhausted as he feels, he knows that tonight will be one of your driving nights. a few years ago, when your only worries were exams and parental issues, you and jonathan would drive around hawkins late at night and pretend you were the only two people to exist.

as you got older, the need to drive became few and far between, but tonight jonathans chest is heavy and your voice sounds frail.

hes at your house in ten minutes, and within fifteen he has you in his passenger seat with an old mix tape playing as julys cool night seeps through the car. and, within thrity minutes, youve unwoven all of the intricate strings of fear and uncertainty within jonathan.

he loves you for how easily you put him at ease.

you simultaneously support jonathans side while also vehemently defend nancys. you console him, yet you also gently pry his head out of his ass.

"it frustrates me how you always manage to say the right thing." i love how you love me.

"youve known me for years now, its your fault for not getting used to it." ive grown up learning how to love you.

its easy. its as easy as breathing when it comes to you, and jonathan inhales as much of you as he can. for as long as he can, for as much as hes able to.

and then you break jonathans heart with six words.

"im terrified he'll be another 'almost'."

its as easy as breathing, and jonathan wishes that he could exhale for you. he hasnt forgotten the lines that were once almost his to cross. how he had you, all of you, and now youre steves and hes nancys.

in the end it was all for the best, but jonathan hates the scars he left behind. he hadnt meant to, they will always mar your body, and he will never forgive himself for it.

"im sorry, bug." he shouldve apologized earlier. he knows this.

he wishes that there was more he could do, more he could say. but hes never been good with words and hes scared he'll overstep somehow. say the wrong thing, hurt you even more. so instead jonathan holds your hands, kisses away your tears, and silently prays that steve doesnt make the same mistake that he did.

youre steves now, anyone can see that. you love him so deeply and freely that jonathan cant help but admire how beautiful it is. he can see it in steve, too. how much he loves you.

that boy adores you.

jonathan understands the feeling. he always will.

[underoospeterparker]

peter distracting his princess while shes trying to study for an exam. needy peter basically

i think this is for peter sutherland but i thought it would fit peter parker too so you can read it for either <3

"baby," peter whined softly, turning your chair to face him. "you've been studying for ages. can we cuddle?"

you giggled, cupping his face in your hands. "are you four?" you asked, half joking and half serious.

he pouted. he literally pouted and you burst out laughing; a loud, wheezing one that made your boyfriend's face brighten.

"just a little longer. please?" you gave him your best puppy dog eyes and he finally relented.

"fine," he said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "come outside in 20 minutes."

an hour later, your boyfriend slammed open the door again. you pretended like you didn't notice peter glaring at you from across the room, and you stayed silent until he gave up.

he closed your laptop lid with so much force you thought it would break. "have you seen the time?" he asked you angrily.

you lifted your eyes from your closed laptop to his face, eyes slightly watering. at this, his entire demeanour shifted, face softening and eyebrows creasing, a look of worry prominent on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, panicked. "did i do something? sweetheart, i-"

your face betrayed you, lips curling into a smile at his concern even though nothing had happened. your giggles turned to screams as peter picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"peter!" you shrieked, still laughing. "what are you doing?"

"kidnapping you," he grinned. "you've been studying for so long, i think you've gone a bit mental."

[formulaforza]

puppy-- m.schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x reader word count: 680

“Oh, look at this one!” You grinned at your phone screen, turning it to show Mick, grinning at him. On the screen, a picture of a puppy that was up for adoption at your local shelter. You’d been looking, trying to convince Mick that the two of you needed to get a dog together, to get Angie a playmate, for months now. He’s completely against it, but, you know he’s wrapped around your finger. It’s only a matter of time before you break him. 

He doesn’t even look at the screen, dramatically covers it and turns it back to you. “We are not getting another dog.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Angie needs a sibling.” You say, and the dog’s ears perk up from the end of the couch at her name. “She told me.”

He laughs, cocks his head to the side. “Did she, now?”

You cross you arms over your chest, reaffirm your statement with confidence. “She did.” He nods, pets her. “When you were in the shower earlier.” You say, return your attention to the website, try to find a dog he’ll think it cuter, one he won’t be able to resist. 

“Oh, well if Angie told you.”

You head shoots up from the screen to him. “Really?”

He smiles like he’s going to say yes, even nods, but then his face drops. “No.”

You roll your eyes, and he chuckles. “Fine.”

You trick him into just looking a few weeks later. Run errands with me, please, you asked him that morning, and he agreed, figured he be spending the day twiddling his thumbs and walking the line of honesty and cruelty while sitting in the boyfriend chairs at your favorite stores. Maybe, he thought, if he was really lucky, you’d take him to the grocery store and he’d get to have a say in the snacks in the house this week. 

“We have to stop at the pet store,” You told him. “Ange needs more food.” You’d seen on the shelter’s social media page that they were hosting an event at the pet store in hopes of getting some of their dogs and cats adopted this weekend. Mick, was clueless, didn’t even notice the sign at the front of the building, didn’t put the pieces together until he heard the little yelps of puppies and was being dragged to the play pens by you. 

“I just want to look.” You said, knew there was no way you weren’t leaving the store without one of these sweet dogs. There’s no such thing as just looking, it’s a ponzy scheme created to manipulate your partner into falling in love with an animal, and it works every time. 

It’s not ten minutes later and Mick is in love with a puppy–a golden retriever mixed with a super mutt, probably. Very fitting, very cute. “We’re just looking.” He says when he catches you smiling, giddy, because you’re looking at your new dog. You nod, pretend, just like he does, that you don’t know the truth. 

A couple hundred dollars worth of toys and food and a collar and a bed and all the other necessities–luxuries–a new puppy needs are being purchased by the end of the hour, along with the little golden puppy. “I think we should name him Gary.” You say, holding the dog, kissing his little nose. “Gary and Angie.”

“Absolutely not.” He says, takes the receipt from the cashier and sticks it in one of the many bags. “We are not naming our dog Gary.”

“Do you hear that Gary?” You say, voice half and octave higher, baby talking the dog. “Dad doesn’t like your name.”

“Your name isn’t Gary, Gary.” He tells the dog. 

“But he just called you that, didn’t he?” You giggle, follow behind Mick to the car and half-ass helping him put the bags in the car because Gary is already falling asleep in your arms and you don’t dare wake him. 

“I’m never just looking at anything with you, ever again.” He says in the car.

“I think we should just look at engagement rings.”

[talaok]

Don’t go

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You have to go, but Joel can't let you

Warnings: angst (?)

The words lingered on his tongue like tainted poison.

lingered in the air, in the space between you, 

in his eyes and the way they bore into you, the way they begged you.

don't go, he had prayed, stopping your hand as it turned on the knob.

You let your arm fall to your side, the weight of his words striking you defenseless.

He wasn't supposed to say that.

"I have to"

You watched as his throat struggled to swallow what felt like sand in his mouth.

"You don't," he said "you don't have to"

You heard the shield, the facade, breaking with each letter spilled from his lips.

"I do, Joel, you know I do" you whispered as if it was a secret, as if the walls had ears to attend you with "And you know you'd do the same"

He had to stop at that, to breathe, for he knew that to be the truth, but could not accept it as such.

"You can't," he said, the last brick on his wall tumbling down with the rest "Please"

You shook your head, your eyes damp with sorrow 

"Why?" you could not comprehend "Why are you telling me this now?" you had to ask "Why now that I've made up my mind? Why now that I finally know what I have to do?" you sighed "why, Joel, why?"

He knew this was coming, and yet he felt his skin prick with fear.

"Because I can't do this without you" he confessed without hesitation, feeling all the blood in his veins flow to his heart as it pumped relentlessly. 

He had to calm down. He had to tell you. He owed you at least that.

"Because I can't lose you" he said "not like this, not you too"

And there it was, the truth. The unspoken promise you had vowed to each other, 

that after everything, after everyone, you would be the exception,

That the nagging phantom cursing your existences was going to let this one slide, closing both eyes as it hovered above you.

"Then you won't" you breathed, as your fingers grazed his "But in order to do that, you have to let me go" 

[shellshooked]

whats ur process for landscape studies? im absolutely obsessed w ur painting style 🙏💖

hi darling! here’s a video of my usual process:

this is very simple and i am by no absolute means a professional (in fact very much a beginner when it comes to perspective and backgrounds) but what helps me the most to figure picture studies out is the following:

a) figure out colors and how they work in context to the picture BEFORE you start. make a palette, and the background color (in this example, the sky)is crucial to understand the value/hue of the other colors since it is the background that essentially dictates it. I usually start with value (is the color dark or light?) then hue (what color is it?) and lastly saturation. Picking in this order helps me find the colors of the picture without color dropping which i think is really important to understand how to color. Pick the colors for the main objects of the picture and not necesarilly every detail, also pick colors of the high lights and shadows!

b) divide everything into shapes as much as you can, and do it with as few brush strokes as you can. This is smth i very much still need to practice since i tend to fixate on details when i paint, but the point of picture studies is to mimic an environment/picture and interpret it in our own way. Find geometrical shapes for trees, mountains (in this painting i chose grass to be rectangular while the mountain follows rounder shapes only) so as to help the viewer understand what you’re mimicking without actually copying the exact shape you see in the picture. this is by far the trickiest step for me but once you master shapes and how to apply them to your study, i think picture studies will become playground material to you.

I hope this helped, again, i am NOT a professional and I haven’t mastered these tricks yet, but they are what’s helping me learn a lot as I make them! I think picture studies are a lot of fun and the fastest way of learning how light and color work together. Sorry for the chunk of text, I’m unable to not be lengthy when explaining stuff😭 God bless you!

[goodnight-whore]

Just a bunch of random studies and doodles

I ended up drawing MC too so I might as well post it

[robinsfilm]

A little small something I made while listening to Madds Buckleys My love is sick.

Since I'm new to all of this, I tried to study Jasons character again. Its difficult to find one version of him where his trauma and personality is done somewhat realistically. For me, if I'm being honest, it's hard to understand that some traumas run so deep they might never heal. It's a grim reality we all have to face, I suppose. Maybe thats why Jason character is so close to my heart.

My point with writing this to understand the part of his situation that we sometimes look over and ignore. The "ugly" parts. I'm still a idealistic bastard so there is comfort at the end lol. It feels a bit hypocritical for me to that. But I'm sorry I just can't do it (⁠T⁠T⁠)

[tboybuck]

swallowing hand grenades

wc: 601 | cw: mention of passive self harm, description of internalized meltdowns, references to parental violence | autistic eddie munson, inspired by the meltdown i had at work today

All his life, Eddie has been swallowing hand grenades.

At least, that’s what it feels like when everything around him is too bright, too loud, too hot, too cold, too itchy, and the tapping of his fingers against the table or the bouncing of his leg beneath the table isn’t enough to stop the explosion that’s building behind his eyes. When he was little, his mother taught him to internalize his explosions so he doesn’t turn out like his dad with his violent angry outbursts that left fist shaped holes in the drywall. 

The flooding of his overwhelmed senses always feels like he’s holding a hand grenade without a pin, and if he throws it the shrapnel will go everywhere and cause destruction in its wake, so... He swallows it, keeps the shrapnel inside where it won’t hurt anybody but himself. And most times it doesn’t even hurt him, not really. It leaves behind an ache that he doesn’t have a name for, a bone deep exhaustion that'll knock him out and let him finally get some of that blessed, blessed sleep that escapes him, more nights than not.

His mom used to say he was full of nervous energy, like a chihuahua or a Jack Russell terrier, but the older Eddie gets the less he believes that. It’s not really that he’s nervous. Sometimes, sure, that's what it is. But usually it’s the buzzing of the too-bright fluorescents overhead and the murmured conversations happening around him that sound like bugs. It’s the itch of the tag at the back of his tee shirt and the fact that one of his shoes is tied just a little more tightly than the other. It’s the furnace that kicks on in the middle of class and blows thick, hot air down on his scalp and makes his hairline sweat.

It’s the panic that rises like bile when he realizes he forgot the homework again, third time this week, and the teacher is looking at him with an arched brow and that lip curled in a sneer.

He can’t sit still, but he can’t rock side to side the way he wants or everybody’s gonna fucking look at him funny again. He can’t chew on the inside of his cheek because there’s barely anything left of the skin in there. He can’t bite his thumbnail anymore because he bit it down to the quick earlier and made it bleed. He can’t pick at his eyebrows anymore because if he goes home again with half an eyebrow missing Wayne is gonna have that look in his eye, that worried look he gets when he starts suggesting things like maybe a counselor…

So Eddie excuses himself to the bathroom and locks himself in a stall and he swallows the hand grenade, lets it pop in his tummy as he takes his rings off and shakes his hands out, flaps them a little bit so that he can start to feel human again. He presses a palm to each temple and squeezes, imagines the top of his head splitting to let all the gunk out, a pimple that’ll scab over later, one he won’t be able to resist picking at again until it bleeds.

In a few years, when he finally lets Wayne talk him into counseling, Eddie will have the language for this. He’ll know that these aren’t anxiety attacks, they’re meltdowns. He’ll know that they happen when he’s overstimulated and has nowhere to put that building feeling behind his eyes. He’ll have methods to cope with them.

Until then, Eddie will keep swallowing hand grenades.

[ducky-mae]

Bruce Brooding (as per usual)

This started as me trying to write about Clark and Bruce on an off-world mission but turned into Bruce spiraling about his kids. I've been thinking about parents dealing with their kids gaining independence because of my internship so I guess that's what this is. It's basically stream of consciousness and unedited.

Bruce hated this. He hated being far from home for so long. He knew Dick could handle Gotham. All of the kids could handle things without him just fine. It causes such conflicting emotions in him, that his kids are so capable. Bruce was proud, so proud of all of them, but he hated that they didn’t need him. That is the point of all of this, though he rarely admits it to himself. When he started Gotham needed the The Bat, nobody needed Bruce Wayne. Sure his bank account was helpful for establishing The Batman and the Justice League, but he wasn’t. Then he took in Dick, and he needed Bruce. The Batman helped him channel the pain of losing his parents, but he needed a guardian, a father figure, and that was Bruce. It was the same with Jason and Tim, and all of the children and young vigilanties he had taken under his wing. Some needed The Batman more than Bruce but they all had needed him. Now none of them did. Not the League, not Gotham, not his children. They could take care of Gotham without him, take care of themselves without him. And they didn’t want him. How many times had Damian demanded to be left to work on his own, how many times had Jason told Bruce he hated him? Perhaps it would be best to leave them to their own devices.

[okayto]

Once I read an little article-blurb--a magazine or newspaper or digital equivalent or something where they were paraphrasing some newly-released study that apparently said that people are more likely to buy things in stores if they put it in their cart (/basket/hands to carry). So if you could get people to take a thing, even if they were still debating whether to buy it at the time, they were more likely to buy it.

I never looked up the actual study, but I've been grateful for this little report because ever since then I've been much more conscious of what I do with items in stores. And I've found that for me, if I'm really debating an item and having a hard time, carrying it with me actually makes a decision later easier, and I feel like it's easier for me to resist impulse purchases.

That doesn't mean there's problems with whatever that long-ago article said. This isn't me going "ha ha, research wrong," because I don't know what the research actually said, or how common those results in the probably three-sentence thing I read actually are.

But I am glad I read it years ago, because it directly led to me being aware that when I'm standing in a store staring at an item, debating whether to move on or not, there's the feeling of immediacy pushing me to make a decision. And I've found, personally, that if I add the thing to my cart and then walk around for a while, the feeling of urgency fades, because I've partially filled the desire to keep the thing take the thing, and later I can make decisions with a clearer head. A lot of times, I put things back.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Studying with Aaron [requested]

All photo credits after the tag list.

Hello, loves! I hope you are all having a good day/week so far. This post is for my sweet anon who asked for some Aaron study inspiration. Thank you so much for your request. I had such fun coming up with the mood board, HC's, and a little drabble. I hope you enjoy it and good luck with all of your studying and exams! You've got this! Love Levi -❤️

If you'd like to submit a request of some kind, please see this post, Request Post (linked)

Aaron knows that it gets cold in the library, so he brings an extra sweater or blanket for you to wear while you both study.

Aaron gets you any candy or snacks that you want from the vending machines on the second floor. He also knows that apart from the basics, the machines don’t have everything you like, so he buys a few bags of your favorite chips and salty snacks and has some in his apartment and in his backpack in case you need a change from sugary snacks.

If you're on the quiet floors of the library and a person or group is being loud, he will go and tell them to move and is serious about this request. He will stand and glare at the individual(s) until they are gone.

Aaron will quiz you on formulas and concepts for your math and science exams and has written a detailed list of major dates, people, and events for your history courses. He takes all the time you need to remember the important things for each class. He suggests memory devices and tricks to help you retain the stores of information you need.

Even if he says he’s not a good writer, Aaron is a good editor. He will read over any papers or presentations you must turn in. He will make remarks on the whole paper and major points, but he’ll also correct you on your syntax and grammar. As a prelaw student, he is used to detailed work and he wants you to present your best work.

He doesn’t bother you when you are working. He has his own studies too, but every hour you will both debrief and say one major point that you have both learned in that time. You write them out on a whiteboard next to your table. You and Aaron also both have major goals or assignments listed on the board and when either of you finish one of them you cheer each other on! (This is on a non-quiet floor of the library of course).

The short Hotch drabble is below the cut. 1.2K words.

Pairing Hotch x gender-neutral reader

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word count: 1.2K

Content warnings: None

A/N: Two things. 1. This isn't well edited and 2. I use the slang Diffy Q which stands for differential equations. If you liked this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

_y/n_ = your name

You look at your phone again. It had been nearly half an hour since Aaron had run out to grab a drink. Unless he was getting plastered somewhere off campus then ‘Going to grab a drink’ shouldn’t have taken him more than a few minutes. Just as you were about to shoot him a text asking him where he was, the man in question came walking down the hall and toward your table. He was rather awkwardly holding two 711 Styrofoam cups. He took a sip of one of them to make sure he was giving his partner the right cup. He was right and set the other cup in front of you. You smile at him and in a teasing voice say, “Have you suddenly anthropomorphized into a car and needed some petrol to keep that brain of yours going?” Aaron scoffed and replied, “You know you stop making sense when you’re this tired _y/n_.” You jokingly pouted and said, “What are you talking about, I’m at my peak performance right now.” Just as you finished saying this, you couldn’t stifle a yawn from coming out of your mouth. You hide the betrayal of your body with your mouth. This really had Hotch laughing, and he said, “Well maybe your soda will help you a little bit.” You smiled up at him and grabbed the cup. You take the straw in your mouth. Once you had taken a sip, you smiled even more. Aaron watched you. The little gleam in your eyes at tasting the drink was worth the walk to the convenience store just across from campus. Once you had taken a sip, you said, “You didn’t have to get me root beer Aaron, that was very sweet of you.” Hotch pulled out his chair and sat back down, as he said, “Well you deserved a treat. After all, you finished that twenty-page sociology paper. And I needed to stretch my legs. My eyes were starting to glaze over with this reading.” You looked over to the large textbook in front of Hotch and asked, “Is this still Poli Sci?” Hotch nodded and said, “Mhm.” You reached over and pat his hand as you both slipped back into your respective studying.

A half hour later you ran a hand through your hair and made a sound of frustration. Hotch looked up and asked, “What bothering you _y/n_?” You set down your pencil and said, “This freaking calc review is impossible. I don’t know why my professor decided to include problem types that we’ve never seen before here? I’ve tried working problem seventeen three times and I’m still not getting the answer provided. I’ve checked my stuff and it’s not working.” Hotch nodded and asked, “What concept it is over?” You looked back down at the guide and said, “antiderivatives, which I’m normally good at. But this is something else, let me tell you.” Aaron steepled his fingers under his chin and said, “Why don’t you try writing it out on the board. Maybe seeing it bigger will help you see something differently?” You stand and say, “Well it can’t hurt my chances of figuring it out.” Aaron smiled and said, “That’s the attitude I’m looking for,” as he tossed a green marker at _y/n_. You grabbed the marker and wrote out in neat writing: f(x)=ex−3x2+sinx­

You continued to work on this problem for another few minutes before hearing someone call you and Aaron’s names out. You turn and see Spencer and Penelope walking toward you. You beam and move away from the board; the annoying problem is momentarily forgotten. Garcia rushed forward and gave you a hug, while Aaron gave Reid a strong pat on the shoulder. When Penelope had released you, you and Hotch changed positions as you hugged Spencer and Aaron gave Pen an embrace. ­­As everyone pulled apart, you asked, “What are y’all two here studying for?” Spencer spoke first saying, “Diffy Q and computational engineering.” The thought of Spencer’s highly advanced school load had your head spinning and you were grateful when Penelope said, “And I’m here to write an essay for Brit Lit and remind myself for the seventieth time who Plato was and why his cave is important.” At hearing this, Spencer rolled his eyes as his gaze moved to the whiteboard, he clocked the unfinished calculus problem. The boy genius asked, “You working on calc, _y/n_?” You sighed and said, “Yeah, unsuccessfully.” Reid smiled softly and said, “How about I solve this one for you and then give you another similar problem? I won’t tell you how I’m solving it, but I’ll leave my work and you can reference back to it?” Hearing this, you smile and nod saying, “That sounds great Spence, thanks.” Reid annoyingly quickly solved the problem and provided a new one. Once Reid was back next to Garcia, Hotch asked, “Would you like to join us?” Penelope nodded no and said, “We booked out a room upstairs for the next three hours. I need ultimate silence to write.” You nodded in understanding and asked another question: “We’re still set to meet tomorrow at Commons to work on the speech, right?” Garcia and Spencer nodded, and Pen replied, “We sure are my sweet. Darn was I lucky to be put in a group with all of you. My friend Stacy who’s also in the class said half of her partners hadn’t even started their parts of the presentation.” Aaron chimed in with a “Here, here to that.” The friends spoke for a few more minutes before Spence and Penelope moved up to their booked room. As you turned back to the board to study Spencer’s work, they reflected on how they had met their best friends at school. It was fate or the academic advisors who had thrown the four into the same Intro to Communications class. You had sat next to Penelope and across from Aaron on the first day of class. They had all hit off well. In the second week, Spencer had heard Pen complain about her history class and he joined their group. It was Garia who had told you that she thought Aaron had a thing for them. You hadn’t believed her, but later that week, Hotch had texted you asking if you wanted to grab dinner off campus sometime? And the rest, as they say, was history.

            You spent another half hour trying at the problem, but you were getting tired and frustrated. You flopped into your chair and put your head in your hands saying, “I’m gonna fail this exam.” Aaron reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder saying, “Hey, no negative self-talk. This exam isn’t until Wednesday and it's only on Sunday. Reid will help you, and you can meet with your professor if you’re really, really concerned. You’re incredibly smart and capable _y/n_. Don’t let this one problem get you down.” You looked up slightly from your hands and saw how genuine Aaron was being, and how proud he was of you.” Softly you said, “What did I ever do to deserve you, Aaron?” Hotch smiled and said, “Nothing. And you never will, _y/n_. Now, it’s getting late. How about we call it here? I can drive you back to your place.” You agreed. You both packed up and as you walked toward the exit, you were very happy to be at the library at 12:30 a.m. As long as you had Aaron as a cheerleader, you knew you could make it through finals. You were pretty sure you could make it through anything with him by your side.

______________________________________________________________

tag list: @criminalskies @tgskitten @geminitapestry

Want to be added to the tag list? Please see this post, CM tag list (linked)

_____________________________________________________-----------

Photo credits

Top row: Center and Right (@shakespearesdaughters)

Center row: Left (@shakespearesdaughters) Center: (@foldergif

All other photos are mine.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

most likely to trip over their feet and spill wine on you on your first date 🤭

oh god i wanna go the cliche route and say charles but honestly, daniel.

▾ picture this ▾ daniel's hands are shaking. for a man who was rarely nervous, who drove speeds ridiculously too fast for the average person, and is widely known as the most charismatic guy out there: his hands are shaking terribly.

he clutches the stem of his and your wine glasses tightly, taking quick and calculated breaths to calm his quickly beating heart. you look radiant, glowing so brightly he can catch it from across the room. he's glues to the ground, watching as you laugh at something a friend said to you, admiring the way you throw your head back and your eyes squint with glee.

daniel moves through the room with ease, the tremor in his hand forgotten as he makes his way over to you. he smiles at the ones he recognizes, exchanges brief pleasantries with a few acquaintances as he moves about. it's when he clears the crowd, when he has the perfect view of you, do the nerves begin to rattle his fingers. his grip tightens on the glass, offering you what he hopes to be an easy going smile when you finally notice him.

he's only a few steps short of you when the toe of his right foot hits the back of his left, knocking him off his balance and further more splashing whine on your baby pink dress. the red stains his button up too, but he could care less about that.

"i'm so sorry." "no, no it's fine. are you okay?"

daniel set's the glass down on a cocktail table to his left, pulling napkins off it as he tries to pat the stains away. but he knows better, he's worked with wine before, he knows that red wine pretty much stains forever. your delicate fingers grip his wrists, eyes cast up at him as you smile up at him reassuringly.

"daniel, it's fine." "i feel terrible." "don't! it adds... character to the dress."

daniel stares at the splotches of wine on your dress, comparing it to the mere droplets that managed to make it's way onto his white shirt. he reaches over, grabbing the spilt glass with just a bit more than a sip left. he holds it out to you.

"it's only right you get me back." "daniel no." "c'mon, don't be shy. you know you wanna."

you hesitate as you take the glass from him, watching as he takes a small step back. daniel puffs his chest out slightly, arms outstretched as if to tell you to hit him with your best shot.

and you do. a weak swing of the glass, wine sliding out and onto the white fabric of his fancy shirt. a few people watch the interaction, the way daniel so willingly accepted for wine to be poured onto his shirt. it was only the first round of wine tasting, how drunk could they be?

daniel looks down at the fresh splash of wine on his button up, eyes flickering up to see your matching one.

"now we're even." "we look ridiculous." "we look great."