#maybe one day i’ll clean up that sketch

[shortbreadly]

my daddy said ‘the devil looks a lot like you’

[monsterbroth]

i woke up early today and am way too energised my brain is like spilling in circles but I still have not the right energy to be coherent or focus on actually doing anything with it

[alexxness]

Sketching my Roommate <33 - A Short Fiddauthor FanFic

Once again, here's another silly one-shot I just posted on AO3!!

This is an apology one-shot, for the angsty one I previously posted lol

Summary: Ford receives some art supplies and sketches his roommate :] [recently I also got a box of art supplies for my birthday, so I decided to make a silly one-shot based on this present :D]

Another day was passing on Backupsmore University…

Fiddleford was playing on his banjo, while Stanford was reading “A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeleine L’Engle. They were taking a short break from their college projects.

Someone suddenly knocks at the door…

“I’ll get it.” Stanford closes the book and gets up from his bed. He walks up to the dorm’s door and slightly opens it.

“Hello, there. I’ve got a delivery here for Stanford Pines?” A delivery guy asks from the other side.

“Oh, that’s for me!” the six-fingered answered, fully opening the room’s door.

“I just need you to sign over here.” The man delivers a pen for Stanford to sign, and he does so.

“Thank you, have a nice day.” the delivery guy exclaims while walking in a rush.

Ford closes the door and starts giggling in excitement.

“Whatcha got there, Fordsy?” Fiddleford wonders.

“Oh nothing, just some new supplies I ordered!” he replies, placing the delivery on his bed.

“New supplies? For what?” the Western boy stops playing his banjo, and gets up from bed.

“Art supplies. It’s for my sketchbook. And maybe for visual scientific projects. Who knows?” Sixer explains, ripping the package paper.

Fiddleford sits on Ford’s bed, while the six-fingered happily grabs a box.

Stanford kicks his feet with excitement, and his partner lets out a giggle. He opened the box, which was full of pencils, watercolors, and some watercolor paper to test the supplies on.

Stanford looks at Fiddleford, with an extreme glow in his eyes. He quickly grabs his sketchbook, and opens it on a clean page.

“Strike a pose, I want to draw you.”

“E-Excuse me?” Fiddleford flusteredly asked.

“I want to draw you,” Ford repeated.

“I got that, but… I’ve never been a drawing model before.” the Western boy scratches his arm.

“You don’t need to be an actual model to be drawn.” the six-fingered replied with a chuckle.

Fiddleford blushed and looked away.

“Hey, I’ll draw you as handsome as you already are.” Sixer winks at his partner.

The roommate giggles and gets up. “Alright. What if… Huh-” he looks at his banjo, and grabs it, sitting on his bed. Fiddleford starts playing the instrument while smiling at his boyfriend.

Stanford softly smiles back, grabs a pencil, and starts sketching his roommate.

Took about 2 minutes to make a simple sketch. He then grabbed a thicker pencil to make a final sketch, which took 5 more minutes.

“Done!!” Stanford exclaimed while putting his supplies down.

“Already? Can I see?” the Western boy stops playing.

Sixer turned his sketchbook to show his roommate his drawing.

The sketch was somehow so detailed, so perfect, Fiddleford was so wondered by it, a big glow appeared in his eyes.

“It’s… Beautiful,” he said.

“Exactly like you,” Ford replies, slightly blushing.

“Oh my God, you’re amazing.” he kisses his partner on the cheek.

“Heheh, you’re welcome.” the six-fingered replied, kissing him back.

[wheatnoodle]

there’s a dynamic shift when hopper moves in. there’s a father back in the picture.

jonathan does not have good experiences with fathers.

now, he likes hop, he really does. jim’s great to his mom, an incredible dad for el, and he helped save will. jonathan and hopper liking each other is not the issue.

the problem is that when hopper gets angry, he yells. and he likes to have a couple beers at night. and he calls jonathan “kid” like how he used to. so jonathan, who’s already a quiet person, is now next to silent. he speaks when spoken to, doesn’t leave his room and tiptoes on the hardwood floors.

it gets on jim’s nerves. he thought they were a good family. he thought they all got along just fine but now he’s moved in with them, and jonathan is acting like a ghost in his own home. he’s tried to talk to joyce, she tells him to “give him time”.

so hopper is sitting at the kitchen table one night after dinner, reading through the day’s reports. joyce is helping el with her math homework and will is sketching in a notepad next to her. jonathan’s washing up the dishes, scrubbing a glass with this one spot that just won’t. come. off.

and it slips. and glass is shattered on the kitchen floor. jonathan is on the ground in an instant to pick it up, slicing his palm on a shard.

“sh-shit, sorry, im sorry. i- i didn’t mean to, im sorry,” he’s apologizing before he can stop himself.

“honey!” joyce gasps and hurries over, squatting next to him. she places a hand on his shoulder and he looks up, eyes huge and glazed over. “honey, what happened?”

hopper crouches down. goes to grab jonathan’s injured hand. jonathan jolts up, backs up so fast he slams into the counter and hits the back of his head on the overhead cabinet doors.

“i promise i didn’t mean to, ill clean it, i’ll- i’ll fix it, i’m sorry.” jonathan’s shaking his head back and forth, cradling his hand to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut. his breathing is shaking his shoulders. “please, please, please, im so sorry.”

“hey, kid,” jonathan flinches at the name, “it’s okay. nothing to apologize for.”

jim nods once at joyce. she understands and manages to usher el and will into their rooms. she rejoins them soon after. jonathan is still shaking in the same place while hopper is trying to approach him.

hopper lifts a hand and runs it over his face. he doesn’t miss the way the teen’s face cringes up. like he’s waiting for something. like he’s waiting for…jim looks at his own hand and back to jonathan.

“jonathan.”

“i didn’t mean to break it. i swear.”

“i know. it was an accident. accident’s happen.” it’s the calmest joyce has ever heard jim speak. his voice is low, easy and soothing. he’s quiet. he’s warm. she’s watching from the doorway as he opens a new side to himself, just for her kid. just for what he needs.

“im sorry.”

“it’s okay. can i come closer?” jim asks gently, takes a small step forward. jonathan tenses and he stops. “okay. okay. can i see your hand? it looks like you cut yourself pretty good on there.”

he hesitates, but jonathan holds his bleeding hand out, palm up. his arm trembles. he’s eyeing jim wearily, ready to run.

“i just want to look. maybe clean it, if you’ll let me. i’m not going to hurt you,” he says the last part in a tone that sounds like a promise. jonathan stays silent, staring at his hand.

“hey, can you look at me?” jonathan looks up, meets his eyes with terror washed over his own. “i am not going to hurt you.”

“but- dad-“

“lonnie isn’t here. i’m not lonnie. i am not going to hurt you. i will, eyes on me, i will never. hurt you.” jim steps forward again, into jonathan’s space this time. he doesn’t flinch this time, stays where he is as hopper bends his knees a bit to be eye level with him.

“lonnie-“

“is not here,” he’s even quieter, letting the words be heard just for him. “you are safe with me. you hear me? you. are safe. with me.”

jonathan’s subconsciously matching his breathing to jim’s, his eyes never leaving the man’s gaze.

“good work. can you say it?”

“i…am safe. with you,” jonathan whispers, his shoulders slumping tiredly.

“nice job, bud. you are safe. im not angry with you. i will never hurt you. never. okay? you’re my boy,” hopper says it like it’s always been true. like even before he was with joyce, way back to making house visits when lonnie would get violent. and he would see jonathan, only this tiny little kid, and even then, that’s his boy. his oldest. his son.

jonathan visibly relaxes, moving forward and shocking both jim and joyce as he plants his forehead into jim’s shoulder. he doesn’t hug him, just stays there. hopper brings a hand to rest on the back of his head, stroking comfortingly through his hair.

“get something comfy on, we’ll watch a movie or something and relax. but first, let’s go clean up this hand.” and hopper walks with jonathan down the hall, past joyce, a hand on his lower back and jonathan still pressed to his side. joyce cant help that she has tears in her eyes, smiling brightly at her husband as he walks past, protecting her son. he smiles back, warm and full of love.

this is progress.

[days-until-burnout]

joel is having a panic attack in season 10 hc over missing lizzie and all the pressure falling onto him, but gem comes along and cheers him up with hugs and wholesomeness.

no little text because this is important-ish. i did no research on panic attacks, and have forgotten what i know about it, so this depiction may be inaccurate. however, i am still choosing to post it as is because otherwise, it would defeat the purpose of this challenge o7

_____

📧 Day 18 -

Characters - Gem & Joel Words - 1,190 Time - 47 mins Content - Hermitcraft | panic attack | hurt/comfort

“Do you like this?” Joel lifted his sketchpad, a rough sketch of a new build covering the new page. His fingers were colored with charcoal, the edges of the pages decorated with his fingerprints. He stares at the back of the sketchpad, tracing the outlines from pressing into the pages too hard, pictures the sketches in his mind. Counts the material, remembers what each shop sells, who sells what, what they charge, how many diamonds he has, did he have enough? Was it easier to get it himself? The material? Maybe the diamonds? Would it be easier to get the diamond ores to get more diamonds to go shopping to get the materials he needs to build something new? 

His fingers jerked. His eye twitched. His tail flicked. 

“Do you like it, Lizzie? It’s for you. I will build this for you. Here. No– Not here here, but on the server. For you. And– And I will take many photos. I will show you when I next see you. Soon. I will see you soon, Lizzie. I will show you everything I’ve done.” He lowered the sketchpad into his lap, the edges of the pages crumpling under his hands. He stared up at the statue of Lizzie, in her Ocean Empire attire, her blue skin, her long pink hair. Beautiful. Beautiful. His wife, his beautiful wife. He missed her. “I’ve done a lot, Lizzie. You’ll like it. We talked about it before, I’m doing it, Lizzie. Building it all. For you—”

Joel stared into dead eyes. Into the miniature replica of himself in her arms. His eye twitched. The pad of paper tossed to the side, replaced with the handle of a sword in his hand. 

One strike. Clean. The head came off. Now he could look at her in all her glory. He missed her a lot. 

“I’ll show you around,” he hummed, a small smile in his lips as he put his sword down. The sound of a decapitated mannequin head rolling echoed in the distance. “You’ll visit one day, I know. I’ll show you around when you visit.”

He grabbed his sketchpad, grabbed his charcoal, sat at the base of the statue by Lizzie’s feet, happily scribbling again. 

“You will like it. Everyone likes it, or at least they say they like it. You’ll like it, right, Lizzie? Of course you will. You wouldn’t lie to me. I’m doing everything, meeting expectations. I am. I have to be. My base– It’s big. It’s growing. No pressure. No pressure. They are friends, we are all friends, I think we are all friends. No pressure.”

The charcoal scratched the paper. He stared at useless, senseless lines. Stared until it lost meaning. Lavender fabric swayed on the corners of his eyes. Caught his attention. His hands– The hands in front of him, dirty with charcoal. Dirty. Why was he so close to the ground? The floor was dirty. His clothes– The clothes, dirty. He was breathing, right? He could hear it. Heaving. Shallow. Stuttering. That was his breathing? Right? Not the wind. The wind was more consistent. It was cold. That was the wind. No. What time was it? Why was his body not moving? His chest tight. Where was he? Whose hands were these? What were these scrabbles in the page?

Joel. 

That was his name. Joel. His name. Joel. 

Joel? 

Right? Joel, his name. That was his name.

Joel!

He snapped out of it when the world shook, unfocused eyes focused on the sunset, no– Not the sunset, just orange. Orange and blue. Pale skin. Green. Emeralds. Gems. Gem.

Gem!

“Gee, hint taken,” she huffed.

Joel blinked. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Sixseveneightnine—

Deep breath. 

“What are you doing? And why is your head gone?” She questioned, looked up above his head then back. What head? He had his head. It was right there, on his neck. A hand touched his cheek, pressed against it. Slightly cold. Windy, must be. A hand– His hand. His hand touched his face. “Are you jealous of your own statue? You’re losing it.”

Words. He needed words. A response. Words. Words. He was okay, he was not jealous. He needed words. Respond to her. 

He stared. Mouth agape. He had no words. 

“Joel?” 

Joel. His name. Gem. Her name. Right. That was right. 

Arms crushed his body. Tight. Anchor. Seasalt in the air, her hair. Soft leather, her vest. Her face, warm, against his. Slow breathing. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. In. Out. Slow, steady. Grounding. In. Out. In. Out. He closed his eyes, too bright. In. Out. In… 

“There, there, breathe out now, yeah, just like that. Good, you’re doing good.” She said, softly. Like the breeze. There was wind. He breathed out, followed her voice. Sound by sound until the words came back to his mind. Words, right. She spoke words. “Breathe. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Gem…”

“I know, I know, I’m here, you’re okay.” 

She placed a hand behind his head, threaded her fingers on his hair. She hummed, her voice, a light grumble from her throat into his shoulder. It tickled, like her curls. He concentrated, put all his thoughts into moving his hand again, pictured it in his mind, lifted it to brush her hair away from his nose and eyes. He breathed out, didn’t taste the salt in her hair. 

They sat on the shrine a while, until Joel could hold his own, then a while longer until Gem was satisfied. She pulled back, sat on her calves, he looked away in shame. Down at his sketchbook, at lines that roughly made up a box, more lines that made up windows and doors, vents and pipes. Slowly, it all came together, the clear image. It was a new building with another aquarium for axolotls. He wanted to increase his chances of getting a blue axolotl. Maybe it was a plan for another time.

He looked up at Gem eventually, and she smiled at him. She probably had questions, worries. He could see it in her eyes, in her expression. She was easy to read, and he twice as much. 

“Gem.”

“Joel.”

“Did you know tanukis are territorial?”

Her eyes widened. He smirked. She frowned. 

“Nuh-uh, you told me they were social. Highly social even. You can’t lie to me, Joel.”

“But what if I lied that other time?”

She squinted, “Nope. Not believing you. You are a big meanie, stinky liar.”

Gem huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned away. Joel giggled, slowly, slowly regaining control of himself. His ears flickered, his tail thumped behind him. Slowly, there was no rush. 

“Gem.”

“Joel.”

“You are in my territory.”

Before Gem could reply, Joel leaped forward, tackling her to the ground. She yelped, her fox traits popping out as he grinned. Soon, they were scuffling and rolling on the ground. Gem had charcoal prints in her clothes, Joel had a lighter feeling in his chest. She would understand. If she fought him the way she did, then he was sure she would understand. 

It was fine. He was fine. Or would be in time. Really. 

_____

not much to say today. other than take care of yourselves and those around you<3 do these two have a duo or ship name. i wonder

[llvmos]

"Hi, could you make a fic where Dalton lambert where he teaches the reader to draw, and one of these days she draws a drawing of him"

This was requested by @daltonshotgf!

A/n: I finally finished this even though it took forever. I decided to make this multiple parts just so i could include the progress of the readers drawing ability. Im thinking maybe this will be 3-4 parts but im not entirely sure. (I dont own any gifs used in my fics)

Warnings: gn!reader (but reader is Chris' roommate), use of y/n, i think thats it.

Word count: 1.6k

!Not proofread!

I’ll teach you. — Dalton Lambert

Everyday, you would let yourself into Dalton’s dorm while he was at class and wait for him to come back to his dorm.

This wasn’t a new thing. Ever since you and Dalton met, due to you being Chris’ new roommate, you guys instantly connected and its like you had known each other for forever. Since Chris still had the key to Dalton dorm from when they were roomed together, she would let you borrow it if you ever wanted to.

You started coming over before he got back from class so now he just expects you to be there. If you aren’t at his dorm when he gets home from school, he will text you and ask where you are. It has become a routine in which you both follow.

Today, Dalton gets back to his dorm from class at 3:15. So, following routine, you let yourself into his dorm at 2:45, 30 minutes before he gets back.

You try to find ways to entertain yourself. Playing on your phone, listening to music, watching Netflix, but everything bored you out so quickly.

You look around his dorm and noticed the clothes, papers, and artwork scattered everywhere around his room.

You let out an audible sigh as you stand up and start to pickup the clothes and set them in his laundry hamper, pick up the papers and set them on his desk, and organize his artwork, notably because cautious of the not yet dry painting of what looks to be a door.

You start to pick up the various drawings and take a look at each one. You notice his pattern of his drawings being people. Specifically, people that are important to him. As you flip through the drawings, you recognize his mom, brother, and his grandma, all of which you’ve seen in pictures and other drawings that are hanging above his bed.

You notice the immense amount of detail Dalton has put into these drawings. It seems as though he had thoughtfully placed each and every freckle and eyelash.

While you look at the drawings, you cant help but wish that you could’ve been blessed with such talent.

You continue to admire the drawings when you hear the door of the dorm open.

“I’m back.” Dalton states as he sets down his portfolio as he shuts the door.

“I see that.” You respond, as you set the sketches down on his desks.

Dalton looks around his room, noticing the cleanliness of his room. You see him looking around, looking a bit confused.

“I got bored here alone so i cleaned your room for you, like the good friend i am”

“And somehow you manage to make my room look better than when I clean it. ” He chuckles a little as he sits on his bed, looking at you still picking up random things off the floor.

“That’s not very hard to do, Dalton.” You say with a sarcastic tone.

“Well, if you enjoy cleaning my room for me, be my guest. Less work for me.”

You continue cleaning as you think about how good his drawings are. Part of you wants to ask him to teach you but you think he probably doesn’t have the time for that. You look at him and notice that hes on his phone, probably texting Chris.

“How did you learn to draw so well?” You ask, suddenly.

“I don’t know. I guess i just practiced and overtime it got better. I used to draw a lot when I was little.”

You pick up the last shirt and set it in the hamper. Then, you go to sit on what used to be Chris’ bed.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to draw, but I think with my lack of talent, im hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless…maybe.”

You fake gasp as you walk over to him and sit down next to him on his bed.

“I’m so very offended.”

“I don’t know why. You said you were hopeless first.” He looks back at you with a slight smile on his face.

You look at him as you back track on the conversation.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes. You did.”

“Oh. Well what i’m trying to get at is if you will teach me how to draw.”

He looks you and acts like he is thinking about it, when really he would want nothing more than to teach you one of the things he loves doing most.

“Mmm. Sure.”

You’re heart jumps as you think about him teaching you.

“Really?”

“Yeah, ill teach you. You don’t seem too hopeless.”

You roll your eyes at him before he continues.

“You want to start now? I don’t have anything to do for a while.”

“Yes, yes.” You say quickly, sounding almost too eager.

He grabs his sketch book and sits down on the ground. You follow after him.

As he starts explaining drawing and art to you, you start to notice all the light freckles that scatter his nose, one freckle that is placed below his right eye appearing slightly darker.

You notice the way his hair falls in front of his face when he looks down at his sketchbook.

You notice the way his lips move when he talks.

You notice how he smiles when he talks about one of the things he most passionate about.

But what you didn’t notice is that he had asked you something.

“You got all that?” He looks back up at you from his sketch book.

You look down at his paper and see that he has some sort of shape that resembles somebodies jawline.

“Yeah…” You say with an unsure tone of voice.

“You didn’t draw anything.” He looks down at the piece of paper he handed you and sees its still blank.

In fact, you didn’t even realize he had given you a piece of paper.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” You grab the pencil you had next to you and try to copy what he has on his paper, but no where near matching it.

He looks at the paper you had drawn on and sighs as he looks at the 3 lines you had drawn.

“Okay, lets try something different.” He says as he goes to sit next to you instead of across from you.

He grabs your hand along with the pencil as he guides your hand where to go. You feel your heartbeat speed up at the unexpected contact. The only thing you could think of was how his hand would feel casually holding yours. How it would feel resting on your waist as you kissed him.

All of these thoughts were all hitting you at once. You had never thought of Dalton in a more-than-friendly way. So why were you thinking of him like that now? Was it just your mind confusing a close friendship with romantic feelings? Or was there something there?

Once he had sketched out a similar pattern to what was on his paper, he lets go.

“There you go.” He smiles.

You don’t say anything as you smile back.

He disregards your silence and continues on with his teaching.

“Okay, so, you’re going to sketch out the features. I cant help you with that since that’s probably one of the most difficult parts.”

He offers to basically hold your hand again. But it was only to teach you what you asked him to teach you. Right?

“Ill try it myself.” You say to try and avoid anymore physical contact with Dalton.

“Yeah, I don’t think i can draw.” You say with a laugh as you try to sketch out the first eye.

“Here, let me show you a trick.”

He brings his paper over to yours and tells her the trick that helped him learn how to draw symmetrical and proportional facial features.

“Now you try it on your paper.” He hands you the pencil back and looks at you as you try to draw the features.

—

After 2 hours of drawing back and for and little side conversations, its hits 5:45. Your hand was cramping, and your legs were numb from sitting in the same position for so long.

“My hand hurts, Dalton. I don’t want to draw anymore.” You whine out.

“Fineee, we can finish it tomorrow.” He says as he stands up and sets his sketchbook on his bed.

“Yes, tomorrow. I just need to stand up and walk.” You say as you try to stand without falling over.

You pick up the piece of paper you had been drawing on. You weren’t aware of who you were drawing, but you were just drawing whatever Dalton told you to.

“I’m gonna go back to my dorm. Chris should be there by now.” You grab your bag and the drink you had brought with you there.

“Alright, Ill see you tomorrow though, right?” He says as stands up and walks towards you.

“Of course, you see me everyday.” You laugh as you guys pull each other into a hug.

Even though you guys have hugged a million times before, this one was different. Maybe it was his hand placement, or maybe it was just the thoughts you had before, or just maybe it was the fact it lingered a little longer than previous hugs. But whatever it was instantly made your heart race and your face grow pink.

Dalton pulls away as he smiles as you.

“Well, ill see you tomorrow then.” His hand is still laying on your hip.

“Yeah, of course.” You open the door and walk out into the hallway.

“Bye.” You smile at him as you see him walking back towards the bed with his hand in his hair.

He swiftly turns and looks at you.

“Bye.”

[specialagentlokitty]

McGee x reader - this moment

When you have time, could you write something abt artist reader and Tim relaxing with each other on a day off. Maybe Tim is playing his games or typing away on his typewriter and reader is sketching away in their sketchbook but they have writers block so they decide to use Tim as their muse? Just extreme fluff please 😭 if there is anything else you’d like to add, please go ahead! Thank you 🫶🏼 - Anon💜

Sometimes you liked spending time with Tim, learning about the games he liked or just watching films or just talking.

Today you were sitting on the couch, sketchbook in your lap as you listened to music through headphones.

He walked in and when he saw you sitting there he smiled and got changed, heading over to his computer he sat down and loaded up one of his games.

You knew he’d come home, he had made you a drink and sat it on the table next to you, but you were so immersed in what you were doing you didn’t have time to process it.

You sighed, flicking to a clean page, you got up and pulled your headphones down around your neck, taking a sip of your drink you stood up and stretched.

“Hey darling.” You spoke softly.

Tim pulled his headphones down and turned around, smiling softly at you.

“Hey, you seemed really focused so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He took his headphones off and stood up, walking over he slipped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck.

“That’s alright, how was work?”

“Not to bad, one day I’m going to smack DiNozzo though.”

You laughed a little and leant up, pressing your lips softly against his in a gently kiss and he softly kissed back.

You pulled away and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Just ignore him Tim, you’re twice the man he’ll ever be.”

“Thanks sweetheart.”

He gave you a quick kiss and you rested your head on his chest, and you both just stood there for a few minutes happily holding one another.

“Im going to go for a bath, do you want me to order food after?”

“I’ll do that don’t worry, I’ll get your favourite.”

Tim kissed you again and let you go for you bath.

You were in there longer than you though, just relaxing and enjoying the warm water and when you got out you realised the food had come.

Tim was back at his computer and you just walked to the couch and sat down, looking at your sketch book then to him you picked it up.

You kept looked at the pages and at Tim, very carefully drawing, making sure to pay close attention to the detail.

Tim had no idea what you were doing, even as the hours passed and you started new sketch after new sketch.

When he realised what time it was he shut down his computer and stood up, stretching.

“Sweetheart?” He asked softly.

He turned to the couch and saw you fast asleep, sprawled out, book on the floor.

Tim laughed a little and walked over, kneeling down he picked up your fallen pen, and set it on the table.

Then he picked up your book, going to close it he stopped when he saw the sketch on the page.

Looking at it, he smiled and just admired how well detailed it was, every careful stroke of the pen, every careful attention to detail.

Smiling to himself, he closed the book and set it on the table and brushed some hair from your face, kissing your forehead.

Standing up, he carefully picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, laying you on the bed as he walked over to his side and laid down.

He laid there just looking at you, a smile on his face as he reached out and gently touched your keep.

“Tim…” you mumbled.

“Go back to sleep…” he whispered.

You just nodded tiredly and got into a more comfortable position and reached out, lightly grasping on shirt.

He smiled and ran his thumb along your cheek.

He just admired you, taking his ever possible moment of this as he could, burning the imagine in his brain.

Reaching over, he pulled you into his chest and tucked your head under his chin and closed his eyes as he held you lightly

[maccaronimassacre]

Some angsty Ethan Headcanons because I’m procrastinating.

A/N: Should I be doing the coursework that I was supposed to do over the summer? Maybe. For now here are some headcanons while I question my sanity (Who knows, maybe I’ll do some more for my favourite mold man.).

—————————————————————————

Ethan definitely viewed himself as an alright looking guy. Not ugly but not incredibly attractive either. Just kind of average. However, after Louisiana his self confidence tanked HARD.

Ethan’s the type of guy to cover his mouth with the back of his hand when ever he laughs or smiles, but the way his eyes crinkle and squint after a particularly funny joke is beyond adorable.

He impulsively wanted to shave his head after the events of Dulvey out of sheer desperation to get rid of the mold on his body.

He probably scrubbed himself to the point where it hurt just to feel clean again.

Definitely wears long sleeved shirts and hoodies or even watches to cover the scars on his wrists.

He can’t stand looking at photos of himself or looking in the mirror, feeling like something is constantly looming over him and reminding him that he will never be the same person he was before Dulvey.

Enjoys making small sketches of all the people that he meets whether it’s a cashier from the local grocery store or Chris after a day of training under him.

Ethan never draws himself though and if he does they are usually scribbled out or torn up immediately after.

Always makes a conscious effort to stay out of photos or have himself be the camera man. (Most likely afraid of ruining the photo or feels undeserving to be included in such a special memory).

He can’t stand the look or smell of raw meat after the Bakers so he’s usually the one to cut vegetables and prepare side dishes while his partner is the one to cook and prepare the meats.

Before Dulvey he found bugs annoying and creepy but after Dulvey he developed a legitimate fear of them, including insects like butterflies and moths.

[brokenheartedartichokes]

Limits

Some days I wish to be one of my paintings

Fluid colors trapped in beautiful liminal space

And all they are is my mind poured onto canvas

My heart beating through the brush

The world being to much it bubbles up and overflows into the messy pages of my sketchbook

My pain turned to watercolor bleeding through the pages

Entire notebooks filled to the brim with pen scratched heartache

And endless renderings of your perfect face

Some days I wish I could wash away

I could drown in my paint cup and be whisked down the drain

Or maybe sat on the counter left to slowly evaporate until the sadness breaks

I wish to be in long forgotten sketch pads

Laden with long forgotten teenage dreams

I can jump through hope for the future

That leaves me longing for the past

I wish to be art

Trapped beneath always clean glass

Or maybe in a Bansky watching the world slowly pass

And I’ll be labeled graffiti and painted over

But come back again in a crayon drawing on someone’s mothers fridge

I wish to be limitless

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

With a faint ding the elevator doors peel open. Steve's been reassigned enough times by now to know the drill, and this, stepping out into a narrow, dingy sub-basement corridor, isn't it. The place seems more likely to house cleaning cupboards and dusty storage rooms than offices. If he thought his own cubicle upstairs was depressing, it's nothing compared to being forced to work down here every day.

It doesn't exactly fill Steve with confidence.

"This way," says Agent Cunningham. The click of her heels echoes off the bare walls as Steve follows.

"So, are the rumours true?"

"I don't know what rumours you're talking about."

"Cunningham," says Steve.

She stops with a sigh and looks back at Steve. "He's mostly harmless," she says.

"But he likes the freaky cases."

"Well that's why you're here, isn't it, Agent Harrington? And if your record is any indication, you shouldn't have any trouble at all finding a scientific explanation for those freaky cases."

She turns and walks ahead, leading Steve farther into the forgotten depths of the building until they reach a door with an X on a scrap of paper taped in place of a name plate. Cunningham raps primly at the door – not that anyone inside is likely to hear it over the heavy metal blaring from within – and lets herself in.

Steve takes a cautious step after her and peers around the room. It's more of a closet than an office, the precariously stacked archive boxes and piles of manila folders loaded atop every surface only adding to the claustrophobic feeling. Newspaper clippings are pinned to the walls alongside blurry photographs of dark shapes in the sky and what Steve's fairly sure is another Bigfoot hoax. There's even a poster of a UFO right opposite the door, for God's sake.

If someone was trying to decorate for a deranged conspiracy theorist, they'd come up with something like this.

Steve wonders if maybe that's the point.

Finally his eyes land on the mop of dark curls bent over the desk, haloed in cigarette smoke and bobbing along to the music until Cunningham turns off the stereo.

"This had better be good, Chris."

"Eddie, this is Agent Harrington–"

He spins around in his chair to face them, and Steve's eyes track over him; the scars on his left cheek, faint but still visible; the shirt sleeves rolled past the elbows to reveal tattooed forearms; the dark eyes glaring back at them. He doesn't look like a conspiracy loon. He doesn't look much like a federal agent, either. What he looks like is the kind of guy Steve would drag home from a seedy bar and never see again come the morning.

Steve shakes away that thought.

"I told you I don't need a partner."

"And I told you that decision is out of your hands," says Cunningham. She turns to Steve with a smile, as if the two of them aren't currently being glowered at from across the room. "Steve, meet Agent Munson."

"Harmless, huh?" mutters Steve.

"Mostly. I'll leave you two to get acquainted," she adds, louder, and gives Munson a stern look. "Be nice."

Before either of them can protest she's stepping out of the room. The door shuts behind her with a definitive click, plunging the room into a stony silence.

When Steve looks back Munson's already watching him, sizing him up without subtlety. A hint of a wry smile hovers at his lips. "Is this a punishment for me or for you?" he says.

"Both, I suspect." There's a pencil sketch tacked up beside him – some kind of monster without a face that he's willing to bet Munson drew himself – and Steve studies it with a grimace. "You really believe in all this stuff?"

A quirk of a dark eyebrow. "You really trust your government to be wholly open and honest about the existence of the paranormal?"

"We work for the government."

"And?" he says. He shakes out another cigarette and is about to place it between his lips when he frowns down at the pack and decides against it. Instead, Munson picks up one of the pens scattered across his desk, clicking it over and over, so fast it grates on Steve's nerves.

He watches the discomfort flicker across Steve's face, and doesn't stop.

"So you're here to, what, report back to the brass that I'm as out of my gourd as you all think I am?"

"That's not my brief."

"What is your brief?" Munson shoots back. His eyes fixed on Steve are hard, but wary, perhaps. Defensive. It's not a look Steve was expecting from a man who drapes his reputation around himself like a mantle.

"These cold cases of yours," Steve says. "Maybe there is no scientific answer out there. But where there is, it's my job to find it."

"What happens when you can't?"

The words are a challenge, and after a lifetime of competitive sports the old cockiness is creeping back in before Steve can even think to repress it. "I don't think that's likely."

Munson grins and pushes himself out of his chair, snatching up one of the folders on his desk as he saunters across the room towards Steve. "Beg to differ," he says. He hands Steve the folder.

Inside is a picture of a doctor surrounded by smiling patients and a lurid newspaper headline about MK-Ultra by some writer called Murray Bauman. The publication is unfamiliar, which doesn't do much to reassure Steve that this Bauman guy isn't a quack.

"You ever heard of Hawkins, Indiana?" says Munson.

[red-baron-wolf]

Hello all! Thought I’d address some questions in my inbox.

Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone for all the support and concern! I promise I’m not ignoring you or this blog out of spite!

I’ll try and be more active but atm, I don’t have much new content to post. But I will post some of my own sketches and art.

“Where have you been?”

I’ve spent the last few years training to be a commercial pilot and now have a job flying. (Unfortunately not flying Typhoons like Baron does but still pretty cool)! This has however taken a crazy amount of commitment and work to afford it so been working all hours. These last few years have been mad, I’ve been dealing with some personal issues that happened that I don’t wish to disclose here but it’s been tough. Things are on the up now thankfully and I now live with my partner.

“Why don’t you respond?”

I haven’t logged into this account in ages so simply didn’t see any messages. For that I apologise, I had to prioritise my own mental health, work and career progression.

“Why no new fursuit content?”

I haven’t worn Baron in over 2 years due to being so busy. His suit is well looked after and kept brushed/clean. I want to take more photos and will do when I have time. I know I have some specific requests which I’ll do at some point!

I haven’t been to cons since 2019 and not sure if I will bother with U.K. ones again but maybe EF one day!

Thank again for your support, I’ll try my best ❤️ (I’m not flying the Q400 in the photo fyi! I fly something else similar 😉)

[alvfr]

The Ex from Hell - Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

I think this is related the demonic ex prompt I wrote here. I’m not sure if this goes before or after, but I’ll figure it out and link accordingly. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you take the time to read and feel free to reblog if you want <3

WIP: The Ex from Hell Excerpt rating: T Word count: 1.74k

It was a dull Sunday in March when Cousin Kathy knocked on my door. The sleet of a poor man’s winter clung to the black felt of her wide-brimmed hat, and she huddled in her fashionably oversized coat, also black, where she stood on the steps of the sober living house I currently called home. She looked like the singular inked character in a pencil sketch, all sleek black lines separating her from the muted gray background that made up the neighborhood. The deep, rich black of her clothes clashed with the vivid red of her hair, toning into her pale skin that tinted pink from the nippy weather.

“I would say it’s good to see you,” she said after being ushered inside, her voice thin and girlish. Just like her face was seventy percent eyes and two percent nose. So pretty, she almost looked fake. A doll. “But that would be a lie, so I’ll abstain. I would also say that you look good, but alas, another lie. You’ve gained weight.”

“You know, for a second, I was actually happy to see you, Kath.” I left her standing in the hallway that was under constant maintenance and always smelled of paint, and I trudged up the stairs. All too aware of how my steps made the old wood creak with discomfort and remained mum when Cousin Kathy flittered up to follow me. “Not surprised, though. Figured it was only a matter of time before one of you showed up to gloat.”

“I wish I was here to gloat.” Like the rest of her, Kathy’s voice felt foreign in the somber house. Too thin and too sharp, like a stiletto dagger piercing the delicate ecosystem within the walls. Disrupting the relative peace of people like me just existing. Shuffling around and doing their chores, trying to get one day to turn into the next. Kathy kept her hands inside her coat pockets and gave the impression that if she’d had a handkerchief, she would have held it over her nose and mouth. Like she had entered a phthisis ward and not a sober living facility. “Alas, I have come for more serious business.”

If the house was a sanitorium, my room was the plague pit. Kathy visibly recoiled when entering, the bare landlord-white walls and naked linoleum floors apparently too much for her sensitive disposition. I would be the first to admit that it was not much to look at — a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a chair — but it was clean and organized, all of my meager belongings safely tucked away in the closet. Orange floral curtains, probably donated by a previous resident, covered the windows, and I could picture someone adding the pop of color as an afterthought. Maybe hoping it would help brighten the place up and instead only emphasized the dreariness of the room.

I kicked off the soft slippers I wore indoors, sat cross-legged on the bed, which I made every morning before inspection, and gestured for Kathy to have the chair. It was the polite thing to do, after all. Seeing her squirm, caught between gentility and repulsion, was just an added bonus. She ended up perching on the very tip of the chair, trying to sit on it and not touch it at the same time, and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

It had been years since I last saw Kathy, and I knew those years had been less kind to me than her. Both in our early thirties, we looked roughly two decades apart. Some due to genetics, and the rest probably due to makeup and other kinds of camouflage.

It would be a tough sell to convince anyone about both our shared age and our relation, so opposite in every sense of the word. Kathy’s red hair swept around her face, so perfectly blown out it belonged on the cover of a magazine. In contrast, my curly locks hung limp around my face, scrubbed of all volume and shine from the industrial-strength shampoo provided in the communal showers. And while Kathy’s skin could be described as porcelain, white, and smooth, I was more like an old tablecloth, pale and riddled with mysterious spots. Only our eyes were alike, light gray and unblinking, with one pupil slightly bigger than the other.

“So, what’s new?” I leaned back on the bed where my gray sweatpants blended in with the bed sheets that had probably been white a couple of hundred washes ago. “What serious business brings you all the way across town?”

“We think it’s time you come home.”

Once, those words would have slapped me right into sobriety. Pity I had taken the hard way there instead. It cost every iota of self-control to keep still, to avoid bursting into laughter or tears or hysteria at those senseless, reckless words she had just uttered like she was commenting on the weather. That was Kathy for you, she did not beat around the bush.

“I am home.”

Kathy narrowed her eyes slightly, squinting in hopes of seeing me more clearly. As if her dear old grandmother suddenly had grown pointed ears and a mouth full of fangs. I did not move from my spot, biting my teeth together as hard as possible and hoping she did not see how my jaw tightened. It was not a lie, I reminded myself. Technically and legally, this was my home.

“You know what I mean,” Kathy eventually said as if daring me to contradict her. “We feel that now that you have served your sentence, you are ready to return to the Manor.”

“Which one?”

“There is only one Manor, Cousin.”

“No, no, I mean, which sentence are you referring to? My two-year stint in Pollwood or my lifetime banishment from our family?”

She stared at me while I stared back, neither of us blinking for an unnaturally long time. A game we had played as children and brought with us into adulthood. A game I had always excelled at, and sure enough, it did not take too long before a hint of a nervous smile played upon her doll-like lips. “Both.”

“Lifetimes sure aren’t what they used to be,” I said and kept staring unblinkingly at her to look for any clues. “What’s changed?”

Kathy’s little mouth pursed into a pin-prick before she answered, clearly choosing every syllable with care. “We need you back.”

“Need is not the same as want.”

“I never said it was.“ She rose from her chair, smoothed her hands over her coat, and nodded to herself. “A taxi will come around tomorrow at eight. That should give you plenty of time to pack and settle whatever affairs you might have.”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m not leaving.” I settled further in the bed, subconsciously emphasizing my words. “No matter when the taxi comes around, really. So you just run back to the Manor and let them know that, as far as I’m concerned, my lifetime is still rolling. I’d thank you for stopping by, but I won’t.”

Kathy paused, looking like a magazine clipping pasted into the trepid room. “You are aware that your accommodation is sponsored by our funding.”

Not a question, did not beget an answer and yet I failed to keep quiet. “My inheritance after Granny pays for my accommodation.”

“An inheritance that is managed by the family, as stipulated quite clearly in Grandmother’s will. A copy was sent your way, but I suppose you were too busy to bother reading it. Like you were too busy to attend her funeral.”

“Funerals are for the living,” I said, a mockery of the whole truth, but an acceptable substitute ever the same. “But I managed without your cash for about ten years. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Managed.” Kathy smiled, showing off teeth that seemed too large for her head. “I suppose you can call it that. But I don’t suppose you have a plan. Except maybe taking your ex-husband back to court, see if there’s a chance of reinstating the alimony? I would suggest hiring a proper attorney this time. He did get out of your previous deal quite fast. Just as the marriage itself.”

“So you have been keeping tabs on me all these years. Good to know. I don’t recall seeing your name on the registry for our wedding though. Not that you were invited, of course, but when has that ever stopped Katherine the Great?”

“Never.”

“Yeah. If you must know, I’d rather cut off my own arm than accept any kind of help from him again. And I would cut off my other arm rather than return to the Manor. You can quote me on that when you go back to kiss Hester’s ass.” As predicted, Kathy recoiled at my crude word choice. “Close the door on your way out, please.”

She remained immobile where she stood on the floor. “This is non-negotiable, I’m afraid.”

With a shrug, I picked up my phone and swiped through non-existing notifications to feign disinterest. “It often is with you guys.”

“You guys,” Kathy parroted and my neck prickled from the power of her stare. My phone screen flickered and went black, forcing me to look up at Kathy’s pinched face. “You guys. How many days do you have now?”

“Ninety-one.”

“Not those days.” Kathy swivelled back to face me, feet and hands together, like a ballerina. “Don’t give me that look, you know what I mean. Don’t make me ask you outright.”

“Like I said, it’s been about ten years now.” I tried to shrug, to give of the impression of ease, to distract from the way my teeth ground together. “So three thousand days, maybe, give or take.”

“Three thousand days since you practiced,” Kathy’s head tilted to the side, like a predator catching the distant pattering of prey, “or three thousand days since you tried?”

The strain from my jaw planted up to my temples, setting off thumps of a brewing migraine. “Yes.” We stared at each other, waiting for the other to blink, but now Kathy had the upper hand and she knew it. I swallowed the sharp edge in my throat. “No.”

Instead of the victorious smirk I expected, Cousin Kathy’s eyebrows softened and she gave a sad nod. “Come home, Harmony. We need you to come home now.”

“Why?”

“Because people are dying and we need your help to stop it.”

[ruinedgautier]

sorryyy if this is odd but i loveeee the dynamic between lita and sylvain.... i know obviously probably litavain is the most fleshed out, but are there any friendships or other dynamics that lita has? :)

Not weird at all! I'm just so excited about people liking my oc waow 🩷💗💖💞💖💕💞💕💗

Litavain is for sure the most fleshed out! But I also did make Ingrid and Lita friends before the whole fake dating thing happens.

ITS A LOT SO IM GONNA PUT THE FULL ANSWER + MORE CHARACTERS UTC LMAO:

Ingrid really cares for Lita, and she dislikes how much Sylvain is messing with her. The Faerghus Four, including Dedue, are aware that both parties are consenting to the plan— it's just that Sylvain is lying about the reason for it. Ingrid, for the most part, lets it slide because Lita and Sylvain seem to be equal parts invested in the relationship. It isn't until Ingrid begins checking what they think of one another that she realizes how one-sided it actually feels. Here's an excerpt about that:

Ingrid's also noticed how Lita looks when she's describing Sylvain. She likes him, maybe a little more than she lets on. She just can't really convey whatever feelings she has, so whenever Ingrid asks about Sylvain, Lita gives short, generic answers.

“He’s nice to me,” she would say. “And he’s not that bad looking either!”

It's always variants of the two. However, more things slipped past her short responses the longer these past few weeks have gone on.

“He’s nice to me!” turned into, “I lost my mother’s ring in the library the other day, and he spent the next day trying to track it down for me. Turns out, some guy found it and gifted it to his girlfriend. He had to fight the boyfriend for it, but he said a black eye would be worth it if it kept me happy. He’s so… He’s really sweet, Ingrid.”

Then, “He’s not that bad looking either!” turned into, “I think Sylvain’s gotten more tan these past couple weeks. And you can see more of his freckles, too! I tell him that I think they're cute, but he never believes me.”

Ingrid frowns. She doesn’t seem to remember such comments coming from Sylvain. Whenever she asked him about Lita, he’d brush her off and say things like:

“Oh, you know! She’s great.” Or, “We have a study date today in her room. Do you think I’ll score big?”

It frustrates Ingrid to no end. Is he really all that selfish? He’s hurting Lita while he’s just trying to mess around. Sure, Ingrid hasn’t caught Sylvain running off with other girls in the meantime, but that doesn’t ease her mind at all. Maybe he’s just gotten better at hiding from her watchful eye.

——

Ingrid, the poor girl, feels stuck between a rock and a hard place. She doesn't want to hurt her friend by making Sylvain tell her how much he's lying to her, but at the same time, she's tired of needing to clean up Sylvain's messes and thinks that Lita would set him straight after he confesses.

Or something like that, I haven't exactly finished hammering out the details yet 🤧 just know that Ingrid and Lita are friends LMAO

As for other dynamics, she has a small (unnamed) friend group. They're not really mentioned often, but they like teasing Lita about dating Sylvain. They don't know that Lita and Sylvain are pretending to date.

Lita also enjoys hanging out with the Golden Deer a lot. She tags along with Lysithea to learn makeup tips from Hilda– they get ready for the ball together ♡ She goes painting and sketching with Ignatz and values his crit when creating art.

Adding on more to Hilda and Lita's friendship, Hilda passively mentions that Lita should join their class since she seems to get along with everyone there already. Lita always declines, saying that she likes the BL class, but she'll always hang out with her friends in GD. They kiss a little bit in my brain teehee ✨️

Ummmm I FEEL like that's all of them? I want to build more on her relationships in BL, but I have yet to sit down and figure them all out 🤧🤧

[endeavour12345fics]

Saving a life, chapter 4

A few weeks went by, and Eleazar was getting stronger as they passed. He still slept a lot but was able to spend longer and longer periods awake. Philip was with him when he wasn’t in class or sleeping.

One of these days, he had brought a poetry book he’d got in Hogsmeade, Idylls of the King, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. As he started reading “The Passing of Arthur” aloud, softly so that he didn’t disturb Eleazar, the old man looked at him.

“What are you reading?” he asked, with a note of excited curiosity in his voice.

“’The Passing of Arthur’, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.” Philip replied with a smile.

“I see.” Eleazar said, after glancing at the text. “Would you like me to read King Arthur’s lines?”

“Only if you feel strong enough to do so. There’s quite a lot of lines. Please don’t overexert yourself, dad.” Philip couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice.

“I think I can do it.” Eleazar said, smiling. Philip moved his chair so that the two of them could see the text in the book.

Philip started reading, his voice soft and calm: “That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,/…”

When it was his turn, Eleazar started his own lines. “"I found Him in the shining of the stars,/I mark'd Him in the flowering of His fields,/But in His ways with men I find Him not./I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.” He kept going, his voice growing stronger with every word. When he finished the first verse, he helped himself to a glass of water on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling?” Philip asked, not being able to contain himself.

“I feel good, but tired. This was fun, but maybe we can continue later.”

Philip nodded, marking the page, and closing the book. “Please rest. I will still be here if you need me.” He tucked him in the blankets, then sat down again.

After a few hours (Nurse Blainey had meanwhile checked on them), Aesop appeared. He smiled at Philip, glanced at Eleazar, and conjured a chair for himself.

“Thank Merlin he’s sleeping.” he said in a low voice. “I have something for him, but if he was awake it would ruin the surprise. I’ll be right back.”

He left for a few minutes, coming back rolling his wheelchair in front of him. “I thought it may cheer him up.” He sat down and waited for Eleazar to wake up.

When he did, the first thing he noticed was Aesop sitting next to him, for he wasn’t there when he’d fallen asleep.

 “Hello, Aesop. You look rather pleased.”

“I am, and you’ll soon see why.” Aesop replied, getting up and rolling the wheelchair closer to his friend.

Eleazar looked at it, then back at Aesop, then at Philip, both of them smiling.

“Do you want to try it?”

“In fact, I do. This bed is really comfortable, but I’m growing rather tired of it.”

“Alright. Please put your arm around Philip’s shoulders.” he instructed, as he put Eleazar’s other arm around his own shoulders.

“Are you ready?” he asked the two of them, who both nodded. “Let’s do it on 3. 1.., 2.., 3!”

Eleazar found himself sitting in the wheelchair. The three of them smiled widely.

“I want to record this moment.” Aesop said, almost solemnly. He took a charcoal pencil and a piece of parchment from his pocket, and sketched fast, the lines quickly becoming a recognisable drawing. When he finished, he showed it to Eleazar and Philip, who nodded approvingly.

“I will copy it into a proper sheet of parchment and clean it up. Then you can hang it in your rooms or in your dormitory.” He said, smiling at both of them.

When it was time for lights out in the hospital wing, Philip stayed with Eleazar until he was asleep, then went to his common room.

He had been as surprised as Eleazar had and couldn’t forget his dad’s smile as he sat in the wheelchair. He was recovering well, and Philip was really happy for him.

Notes: The poem mentioned and quoted is "Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur", by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Here's a link to the full poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45325/idylls-of-the-king-the-passing-of-arthur There's also a song I really like, based on part of this poem: https://open.spotify.com/track/2wxxqsy0JGHba7WYTTDDZ9?si=298d44c95a724113

[usabitto]

Old sketch I cleaned up a bit, the middle of a crusade, they take those bats seriously (can’t really dodge on time lol)

Maybe one day I’ll finish this

[palettepainter]

If Zoot’s cousins visited the muppets who would they get along with outside of the band?

So I’ve actually thought about this and I already made a small list of characters they’d get along with! I’ll start with Liv since she works with The Muppets as the bands sparky 

Liv: 

Beauregard: While Liv is the bands sparky she kind of more or less keeps their hangout space/the bus clean out of habit. Her and Beauregard sometimes hang out. Liv also finds him a calming presence since Beauregard, intended or not, tends to dodge most of the chaos at the studio. Liv also knows Beauregard can be forgetful in a harmless way, so she hangs around to remind him his cleaning cloth is in his back pocket when he thinks he’s lost it 

Swedish Chef: Chef is one of the first people Liv meets when she goes to the studio for the first time. She felt awkward about the language barrier so after going on tour with the band a few times to places with different languages she decided to try and learn Swedish. Chef is more or less her tutor who offers her pointers when she accidentally says something incorrect 

Scooter/Walter/Skeeter: Liv was in school was Scooter and Skeeter growing up. Her and Scooter were often paired together in sport actives since both were lacking in stamina. She later meets Walter after spending some time at the studio, she was a bit intimidated by his overzealous/energetic personality but she got used to him. Skeeter isn’t at the studio but she’s Scooter brother, so she went to the same school as her and later became her girlfriend 

Rowlf: The band are frequents at the Tavern, and with Teeth being Rowlf’s best friend Liv naturally would have met him at some point. She first meets Rowlf when she gets invited to a party of sorts the crew are having after she’s finished wiring the bands set (events that take place in Hired Sparky. She later moves into the apartment above the bar and Rowlf becomes her landlord. When she’s not on tour with the band for whatever reason she babysits Newphew for Rowlf when he’s managing the bar 

Bunsen/Beaker: Liv is a nerd, Bunsen and Beaker are king nerds. I wanna write a story about how these three meet because Liv likes to help out with their experiments sometimes when Bunsen needs a third assistant to test a new invention or something. The band more often then not have to stop Liv from accidentally signing herself up to being a Guinea pig, she sometimes forgets her own safety when it comes to cool science stuff 

Zephyr-

Yolanda: Girl buddies, they probably met when Zephyr was still working on Muppets Tonight. Zee likes a bit of gossip as much as Yolanda does, so the two like to have frequent gossip sessions together when Zee comes down to visit the studio 

Teeth/Floyd/Janice: Zee spent her summers down in Louisiana with relatives, over time she became friends with Floyd, spending many sunny afternoons listening to music in the shop he worked at. Through Floyd she became friends with Teeth, while the two dated for a while they ultimately decided to mutually break up but still remain close friends. With Janice being the only girl of the band Zee extends an invite to her whenever she and her other friend go out for a girls night (Janice is one of the few who knows Clifford and Zee are dating again. They both talk about their moustaches boyfriends)

Sam: Since Zee is a teacher she obviously has some standards towards what kids should and shouldn’t be exposed too. As a teacher she tries to keep the space she holds her dance lessons in a safe space, language is strictly NOT allowed infront of the kids and she prefers to not raise her voice. Thanks to her career in teaching Zee can, to some degree, understand Sam’s pushiness to remove certain aspects of the show in fear of it being too PG for younger audiences. She tries to at least hear him out before making a judgment. 

Pepe: She met Pepe back on her days working on Muppets Tonight, maybe worked on a few sketches with him and Seymour. Pepe jokingly flirted with her off stage and Zee often rolled her eyes at his affections (not unkindly). Zee probably finds him fun to be around but has to sometimes remind him that she’s kindly not interested in anything he can offer her romantically 

Rowlf/Kermit: Since both of them have newphews she often volunteers to babysit them when either are busy. Sometimes she’ll get up and dance with them to one of Kermit’s songs or when Rowlf plays his piano. Outside of babysitting their newphews Zee also finds Rowlf and Kermit good company. They sometimes talk about their work and how shifts have been to wind down from stressful times when they meet up 

Raphael-

Janice: Spiritual, hipsters besties. Even if they’re apart a lot because of where Raph lives and Janice often touring with the band they communicate over the astral plane. Having many deep, emotional talks about plants, crystals, and social trees they’ve encountered spiritually. I imagine Janice sometimes, on the rare occasion, will vent to Raph about stuff she wouldn’t tell anybody else so Raph deeply treasures their talks 

Camilla: Raph is not apposed to having conversations with poultry. He’s just as happy to sit and chat with Camilla as he is talking with cacti, ants and stray cats. It takes him a while to decipher her clucks and bawks but he more or less understands her 90% of the time. They talk about boys together 

Sweetums: Raph simply believes that someone as big and as clumsy as Sweetums is simply a misunderstood soul. Raph will have tea with Sweetums and the two just talk about stuff, he thinks Sweetums is faithful to his name; he’s a sweetheart in his eyes 

Sam: Raph likes messing with him in a teasing way, he doesn’t mean genuine ill-will, but Sam sometimes makes it a bit too easy to mess with him 

Penny-

Piggy: Might be obvious but yeah these two get along very well. They share similar talks about fashion, beauty and fine dinning. They like to sass each other in a half-hearted playful way. Whenever they meet up it’ll either end in a fun trip shopping or a fabulous beauty battle to the death (most of the time it’s the former)

Deadly: She gets along better with Deadly then Piggy, since both are fashion designers they naturally have more in common. Penny likes to buy clothing, but she has a lot more fun thinking of all the details that went into a gorgeous dress rather then be the one wearing it. Penny is also so utterly in love with Gloria Estefan and spoils that penguin rotten. Deadly had tried to stop her but his attempts are futile, Penny is basically the fine wine auntie to Gloria (teases Deadly sometimes that he’s going soft to which he will squint at her silently) 

Yolanda: They talk shit about coworkers and clients that get on their nerves, they hit up bars together. If Penny where to get drunk, Yolanda would be one of the few who’d probably see it 

Lips/Animal: Nature and environmental bestie with Lips. They talk about preserving endangered species and ways to use recycled materials, they coe over cute animal videos and watch nature documentaries together. Lips has probably ordered clothes through Penny’s company and she gives him a discount.

Penny was at first terrified of Animal, but I like to thought it would be cute that Animal would be smitten with Penny sort of like how he is with Nora in Muppets Mayhem. Plus since Penny’s trans I thought I’d be cute if Animal got especially protective of her sometimes, and it was that that finally got Penny to warm up to him. It was basically an overnight change, one day she was terrified of him and the next she treats him like she does Gloria (prolly joked - but also kind of not joked - to Floyd if she could borrow Animal from time to time at pride parades when she has the courage to go to one)

Beauregard: I’m not too sure how these two would end up meeting but I think they’d be a cute pair. Maybe Penny had a meltdown over something right by Beauregard’s storage cupboard and he stumbles across her. Penny’s anger goes right over his head, but her annoyance at being found shifts to unease when she sees the state of disarray his cleaning cupboard is in. She ends up re-organising it and maybe from there Penny just goes to hangout with Beauregard when she needs a break 

Lazer-

Rizzo/Pepe: Drinking buddies, they talk about girls and guys they like. They’ve all probably ended up drunk together and woken up hungover in weird circumstances none of them remember how they got into

Animal: Digs his energy and is not phased by his loudness in the slightest. Lazer feels more of ease to be himself, stim and be loud around Animal because he doesn’t judge. As well as being a DJ I can picture Lazer playing the drums so him and Animal sometimes jam together, or Lazer will listen to Animal bash his drums and offer feedback (it’s very positive and encouraging everytime, Lazer just loves the energy!) 

Fozzie: He actually likes Fozzie’s jokes, doesn’t understand why some people don’t find them funny, he thinks he’s genuinely hilarious. Lazer likes to do deliberately stupid puns to mess with Penny so he and Fozzie exchange joke material and even brainstorm stuff together 

Gonzo: Lowkey Lazer is probably a huge fan of Gonzo and his stunts. I don’t know how old Gonzo is but  imagine he’s older then Lazer, and Lazer probably huge idol like respect for him. Nowadays I like to imagine Gonzo as a writer, his stunt days are behind him - but he’s still prone to dancing with danger when he gets the chance to, you can never retire from the daredevil lifestyle, as he says. Lazer did fanboy so hard when he saw Gonzo for the first time to Penny. Shaking her arm and everything while whispering stuff like “Look! Fucking LOOK! It’s Gonzo!-“