#so much easier than colored stuff

[planetformer-central]

"Beware the Immortal Jester."

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[royalnavyart]

value study

ref: if you had been the moon (2009)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

and so begins the making of christmas presents

[aquilamage]

[Image Description: a set of five edited bug fables screenshots from the pre-battle zommoth encounter. The first is the same as in-game, Kabbu saying "W-What is that!? Something's coming!" The second is of zommoth appearing on screen with its sprite edited to be various shades of pink and yellow, wings the same pattern as Leif's (but still with the purple blight magic stuff in the chest area.) The next three images have the sprite edited in the same way.. The third image is of Leif's saying "...Wh, Rkejrm-m-Muse!? Kjdrira, mebsrgr...!!!" The next is Kabbu saying "Muse!? Leif, that's..." The final is Vi saying "T-That doesn't make any sense!" End ID]

I thought about one of my fucked up and evil au ideas for five minutes again, so I decided to spend like fifty hours making a thing about it. Basically what if Muse went back into Snakemouth later to try to rescue Leif or at least bring back his body and got caught by the roaches.

Putting just the edited sprites under the cut if you wanna see those without the lab mood lighting:

[solvicrafts]

WIP: Gomp's Robe

I haven't shared any WIPs in a while, so here's Gromph's gray archmage robe!

This one is a prototype and will be my own personal plush, so I glued the accent ribbon on instead of sewing it. It's not as noticeable in person, but definitely shows in the photo. That said I might stick with gluing them, but use a metallic glue stick instead of the clear ones to add a few extra visual effects, since it's a little too thin to sew.

I have a few more little accents I'd like to add, like embroidered runes, but I'm not sure how well my glow thread will show up on this fabric D:

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Yeah okay after falling into this hole of research (scrolling Instagram and looking through every account that sells fiber crafts handmade things) I'm sure I want to try out selling stuff because god not to brag but I can make better stuff than some of the things I've seen and if I can somehow surpass the huge obstacle of being a nobody and get my stuff seen by people I should be able to sell things for real

[y2khaos]

finally gave my boy a proper ref sheet <3

[coquelicoq]

Hi again! Thanks for answering my previous ask! I find it funny that I have the opposite thoughts about story formats, feeling more comfortable with static images from manga (or words in a book) than the fluidity of animation/live action series. I guess having read manga since I was like 10 I'm just used to it as a format and don't find the points you make any issue? (Always read top to bottom, then right to left, and dialogue has pointers or an icon in/besides the bubble, rarely left wholly to context.) While in contrast, during dramas I often feel that I didn't get to catch the details before they're gone from the screen. Regardless, it was cool to hear your opinion on manga! 🐰💛

(By the way, yep, natsuyuu simply comes from mashing the words together to make the name shorter, which is pretty standard, especially if there's not enough words to make an interesting acronym. And if I may comment, I love the FMA manga, so if you do get to watch either of the anime version, I would enjoy knowing your opinions on the FMA:B adaptation, since it's the one that's closest to the manga. Only if you decide to watch and share, of course. 🐰💛)

that is really interesting! i like that you're distinguishing between static forms like books/manga and moving forms like animation/live action. that makes a lot of sense. my first instinct is to think of it as forms with pictures (manga/graphic novels/animation/live action) vs. forms without pictures (books), because any time there are words and images, the images become secondary to me. i'm so into words that sometimes i don't even look at the images because i just want to get to the next words! whoops!!

thank you for explaining the whole "natsuyuu" thing because i was almost at the "i don't know what this is and now i'm too afraid to ask" point and then i would have just been suffering in silence lol. i think FMA: Brotherhood is the one that was recommended to me earlier, so hopefully i will get around to watching it someday! thank you for all of this info and for your thought-provoking questions! have a lovely friday <33

[mel-addams]

HEY there's new folks here since I last rambled about Rebelle, and they've got a HUGE sale going on for the preorder of the next version, SO

TL;DR: amazing traditional-paint-emulating drawing program on huge preorder discount, $30 for Pro version GO GET YOU YOURS

I've been using the digital art program Rebelle for a bit over a year, and it is SO GOOD at emulating the feel of working with traditional paints, pencils, and pastels! It's got thick (or thin) impasto texture for oils/acrylics, water physics (!!) for watercolors, and can actually use the texture of your canvas to affect both wet and dry media brushes. It feels SO MUCH better than hooking a texture into a brush and working on a canvas that just...doesn't match it, or applying a texture afterward. BUT ALSO they're gonna be updating it soon, and adding not just standard digital niceties, but also METALLIC. PAINTS. Plus more texture stuff you can control, and even better texture reactivity, but METALLIC! PAINTS!! USING THE BUILT-IN LIGHTING AND TEXTURE SHENANIGANS, INSTEAD OF HAVING TO MESS AROUND WITH WRANGLING/OUTSOURCING EFFECTS YOURSELF

And the pre-order price from now until November 30th is ONLY $30 for the Pro version (which I absolutely recommend!), when the price is usually $150 (!!). The Pro preorder price will increase to $50 from December 1st to the 13th, then full price when it releases on December 14th. And they don't do subscription! Just free updates (typically good and/or requested features, as well as bugfixes), in between full upgrades like this that have been HUGELY discounted on release.

You can check out further info on Version 7's upgrade features, as well as the link to buy it, via the link at the top of the post. BUT if you wanna test out basic watercolor simulation, and/or test the trial version of Rebelle 6 (I think) to see if you like how it feels? You can check out this link: https://www.escapemotions.com/products/rebelle/try/

(Also they often do this sort of thing with the free bonus papers for spreading the word, as mentioned at the beginning of the Version 7 info link. I think it's happened...at least each time they've done a version upgrade, maybe once or twice in between? And it's been a different set of papers each time. But I already did my shared-post earlier. This post is genuinely just 'cause I think stuff like the feel of brushes reacting to visible texture and water physics (which you can pause!) are SO NICE, and the preorder price is bonkers-cheap. I still need side stuff like Affinity for like...fonts, but Rebelle is my current favorite for actual drawing and painting.)

PERSONAL EXAMPLE TIME

Playing around with watercolor drips, because you can control the "tilt" of the canvas (via either a tablet's features if it can, or a disk in the UI if not): Bakuratober Ghost prompt

Using canvas texture to get a RAD cracked-paint look on a dark canvas (I used the Straw canvas from the "Mulberry Coconut & Straw" purchasable paper set): Bakuratober Vampire prompt

Taking advantage of thick acrylic texture (plus watercolor which flowed into the brush streaks for emphasis), to simulate both muscle and sand texture (body horror warning): Bakuratober bonus prompt (Nightmare)

Combining a mildly textured pencil with a subtly textured canvas to emulate how I use physical colored pencils (plus layer effects for glowy ghosties): Bakuratober Dancer prompt

Combining wet canvas and watercolors to let the pigment feather out to create a "blurry" foreground effect (plus setting lineart as a masking fluid layer to keep colors contained): Disco (Elysium) Harmony

[okcoolthanks]

Earlier I wrote down what I was thinking during what I thought was a school shooting from a while ago and I ended up shaking so bad I misspelled like half of the words so it’s staying in the drafts forWVER

[ppulverse]

ok that's enough i'm sorry i just HAD TO gif her

[writersdrug]

Price getting reader a step stool cause she keeps asking Bartender!Ghost to reach stuff for her. Simon obviously brakes it when no ones looking. 👀🤭

LOL

"Is this your way of insulting me?" You ask, holding the colorful, children's stepstool in your hands. You're grimacing at it, a look that has Price chuckling as he folds up the bag from the store.

"I figured you could use it - now ya don't have to wait for Simon to grab anything for you." He says, patting you on the shoulder.

"I don't mind the wait..." You mumble under your breath. The stool feels as decorative as a clowns nose as you tuck it under your arm and head towards the stairs. "I'm keeping it upstairs, I don't need customers laughing at me when I pull this out. Might take it home and spray paint it."

"Suit yourself." Price calls as you bound up the stairs. He heads over to the bar, where Simon is currently polishing the glasses you convinced him to order for the Halloween drink.

"Got a problem with me helpin' 'er?" Simon says, thick fingers rubbing the glass with a rag. He doesn't mean to sound defensive... but he can't help the bite in his tone.

Price smirks, picking up on the jealousy laced into Simon's words. "Thought you might like it. Makes your life easier, and 'ers." He pops open the register and starts filtering through the bills, replacing the larger value ones with smaller ones.

"You don't think I'm capable of runnin' a bar and helping you waitress at the same time?"

"No, but I think you'd be better off if you didn't have to run so much. She's brought in so much business as it is, your workload's gotten heavier."

Simon huffs. "Ya just want to separate us, hm? Want 'er all to yourself." He jokes, grabbing another glass and buffing it.

Price shrugs. "And if I am?" He says, giving him a side glance.

Ghost slows his ministrations, turning his head to his captain. They both stare at each other for a moment, Simon with his slightly angry, slightly questioning glare, and Price with his unwavering eyes. Simon wants to tell him to back down, that you're his - but he can't say that, because you aren't his. He wants you to be. But he doesn't know how to make it happen without letting his walls down.

Price chuckles, turning back to the register to continue swapping bills. "Y'know, if you want to say somethin' you'd best say it." He comments, snapping the drawer shut. "Missed opportunities often come from miscommunication."

He leaves Simon at the bar, heading towards the stairs with his money folder. You jog down the steps and nearly crash into him - he quickly grabs your shoulders and spins you out of the way before you can collide with him. You throw a "sorry!" over your shoulder as you carry an armful of various fruits, leaving Price chuckling as he ascends the stairs to the office.

"The oranges up there aren't looking too great." You chirp, dumping the fruit onto his workspace. A few lemons and limes roll onto the floor, and you bend down to chase them. Simon watches you, a bit miffed at how unaware you were of the situation. What do you think of Price? Do you like him? Would you flirt with him as much as you do with Simon?

You return with the escaped fruit. "I can run to Sevvy's store and grab some for tonight, if you want? The ones upstairs are looking a bit pruney."

"Are you actually gonna use that thing?"

"Huh?" You look at him with confusion written on your face. "What thing?"

"The stool." He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. "'S a bit demeaning, don'tcha think?"

You paused, watching him move the fruit to the side and grab a plastic cutting board. "I mean... he bought it, and I wouldn't have to bug you so much. If I spray paint it black or something, it won't look that ridiculous."

He nods. "Hm."

"I used it to grab the fruit."

"That's interestin'." He mumbles, slicing through an orange. You were right, they have seen better days.

He turns to pop open the register and hands you some bills. "Go get a few oranges, no more than ten. Order should be comin' in tomorrow."

You smile and take the money, stuffing it in your back pocket. With a few hours remaining before the restaurant opens, you go through the kitchen, grab your jacket, and head out the back.

Simon's back to chopping fruit and dumping it into a small bin, bitterly thinking over what Price had said. It's a stool. Price got it to help you and himself. It was a thoughtful purchase. But it's not just that. However unserious this is to Price, he's trying to rile Simon up. He's treating you like the last slice of cake in the tin - Price would like to have it, but he knows Simon's groveling for it. He's forcing Simon to ask for what he wants, and the bartender doesn't like that one bit. Normally, it wouldn't be something that irks him so easily - but this is you we're talking about. Not just anything. You. He wants to grab Price by the collar and throw him into next week with how he's trying to wedge between you and Simon - but he doesn't like having a weakness. He'll keep his cool for now. He'll make a move... eventually.

For now, the only aggressive side he'll present is passive.

Price leaves late that night, somewhere between two and three in the morning. He's beat, spending most of the night between helping you run food and drinks, and fifo-ing the pantry and overflow rooms. He's planning for a day off - of course, after he goes to the bank and comes back here to pay everyone. He's jealous of Simon, who's already upstairs for the night - he wishes he only had a short trip to the third floor before he could crash into his bed. Rather, he has to trek a hefty number of blocks home through the dark streets. He's more worried about going to bed at a decent hour than walking around at night with a bag full of money - people usually steer clear of him when they see his stature.

He locks the back door behind him, puffing out a foggy breath into the frigid air. It's only getting colder - he'll have to break out his cloves and scarf soon. The beanie won't be enough. He shoves one hand into his pocket, the other holding a small bag of trash from the office. He mentally ticks off what he needs to do this week as he grabs the garbage bins, dragging them behind him and towards the street for the trucks to empty in the morning. He pushes them against the store front, taking the lid off and dropping the light trash bag inside.

The loud thunk makes him do a double take. Did he throw away something important? He lifts the bag once again, and a disappointed expression falls upon his face. The colorful kiddie stool he bought for you is there, pieces snapped apart and shoved deep into the bin. Simon didn't even try to hide it underneath the other bags. It's almost like he left it there for Price to catch.

He sighs, dropping the bag and placing the lid back. He trudged down the sidewalk towards his home - he's not too upset by it. He had a feeling Ghost was sinking his teeth into you, and frankly, it's gotten to the point where Price is afraid of what the man might do if someone else tries to take you away. But damn, if his ex-lieutenant's going to make a move, he'd better make a fucking move. For your sake, if not his own.

He pulls his phone from his pocked and shoots Simon a quick, blunt message.

You're paying me back for that.

[planetsage]

NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🪷 LUST FOR LIFE 𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── choso kamo 𝜗𝜚 . . . SAVE ?

“and i was like take off, take off, take off all your clothes”

contains. nsfw so, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. f!reader. dom!choso / bsf!choso, kinda ooc, mentions of sex toys, solo masterbation, getting caught, m rec oral, deepthroat, spit, dirty talk, missionary, some possessiveness, overstimulation, creampie. 2k words.

choso realized early on in your friendship that he finds issues in locating exactly where the metaphorical line lies between you two.

he knows that, yes; he loves you with an unconditional devotion that scribbles color over every inch and corner of his life. if he could, he’d bring the moon down and bottle it up for you. in the shape of his love. he’d steal the stars.

but sometimes his brain cramps up in confusion because he shouldn’t be imagining how soft and clammy his best friend’s pretty little hands would feel wrapped around the girth of his cock, right?

he knows it’s wrong. he knows he’s just being gross; there’s always a subtle pang of guilt that strums and strings at his heart when he’s with you, but every time he stiffens at his very, very lively imagination, he just can’t help the tight grip, his thumbs rubbing little circles on his sensitive tip before moving with the rest of his fingers to jerk off to the pictures you send him throughout your day.

and you don’t make it any easier for him.

the way your touch lingers for too long, your gaze planting camellia seeds over the plot of his cheeks.

and now, he’s staying at your place while his ac gets fixed; he spent a grueling few days in the oppressive summer heat, sticky and sweaty, and couldn’t bear it any longer. naturally, like the great friend you are, you warmly offered up a guest bedroom to him. and he accepted.

he quickly went to pack a few days’ worth of clothes and toiletries. while scrambling around his room one last time to make sure he had everything, he saw the pink lip outline of the fleshlight he stuffs full almost every night; the fleshlight that he bought in your exact skin tone.

he almost brought it. almost. but decided it’d be rude to indulge himself like that in your guest bedroom after you so graciously offered the space to him. so he left it.

god, does he regret it now.

lying in bed after dinner where you must’ve been trying to kill him, wearing nothing but a little crop top and some boy-shorts underwear. the cotton mockingly hugging up on the cuff of your ass. doing nothing to clothe you.

even in the guest room, everything smells like you. the soft of the sheets, the silky pillows, hell, even the air. it’s too much. like your scent took a physical form to torture and encase his entire body.

“haaa … fu— fuck” his hips roll languidly against the plump mattress as he groans out, ravened locks falling all over the bones of his flushed face. he sinks his teeth into one of the pillows, drooling all over it, and screws his eyes shut to imagine how your pussy would feel letting him in, stretching around his cock, “nghh ... yea. just — just like that …”

sitting up, he pushes the heavy covers off of him; he’s hot, sweating under the thick duvet. pulling his shorts down because it’s too much. poor boy is too hard, throbbing and leaking all over your sheets with a pretty pink dusting his body, “shit..” he whispers sweetly, laying his warmed, wet tongue flat against his palms before wrapping around himself, almost whining at the contact.

he flicks his wrists rhythmically, his mouth bowing open at how loudly his messy cock squelches, filling the room, his hips canting up into his fists.

but he wishes it was you.

the pretty wings of his eyes flap and flutter shut, picturing the way the fat of your ass would bounce on him, how you’d cream all over his cock, “so fuckin’ messy for me— oh my god” wondering how you touch yourself. do you use your fingers? toys? he could probably fill you up way better than any plastic ever could .. do you ever think of him when you play with your pussy? “fuck— fuck fuck fuck”

his eyes peel back open to the door he purposefully left cracked. though he knows getting caught now, like this had the potential to ruin the entire friendship, he banks on the chance that you want him too. his head falls back against the wooden headboard like a marionette’s dropping from its strings. so caught up in making himself cum he doesn’t hear your feet shuffling, nearing the room.

the deep groans you heard from your room stirred you awake, urging you to check on him, pulling you closer and closer to the door until you’re right up by it. you can see his dark silhouette through the crack. your eyes growing big at how he’s quickly pumping himself.

you move closer; the door is only slightly ajar and something inside you wants to see more. hear more. your heart thumps rhythmically in the drums of your ears and your shoulder presses against the wood, causing a creek to sound and cut through his moans like velvet.

you freeze.

his eyes lock onto yours, and he freezes too. even though this is what he wished for deep down he didn't actually expect the stars to align, for better or worse.

your breathing picks up, your feet glued to the ground as if gravity hated you, rooting you in place. and choso can’t think of anything to say but a meek, “sorry” waiting and watching how you react:

your teeth clamp down to chew on the fat of your bottom lip. your breaths coming out in quick winds, big eyes falling to where his hand squeezes and coaxes out drops of sticky precum.

“… come here”

your upper body scrambles, almost leaving your legs behind as you pad towards him. crawling over the thrown sheets up onto the bed and it dips. behind your wispy lashes reveals fairytale like eyes because you’ve been wanting to have him like this for as long, if not longer, than he has.

he parts his thighs and you nestle between them without a word, moving your hands to his bare legs as they frame you; digging your nails into the taut muscles. as long as you’ve known him, choso has obsessively gone to the gym. vibrantly showing you basically nudes rebranded as ‘progress pictures.’ you squeeze his legs making him twitch, his hand moving to your chin, making you look up at him, “i want you .. to wrap these preetty lips,” his thumb moves to push and stroke against your bottom lip, “around my dick. been thinkin’ about them for so long. can you do that for me?” he’s groaning with a raw authority you’ve never heard or seen from him.

and it makes you so fucking wet.

you nod and he leans back, scooting his hips lower and spreading himself. “use your words. i don’t want this unless you do, too”

“yes. i want it so bad. want to make you feel good, cho” you grab his cock with both hands, warm and throbbing against your soft palms, before pushing it up against your flushed cheek, rubbing it against your pretty face.

“that’s it. i knew you’d want it, pretty girl. now show me”

you press light kisses to his flushed tip, up and down his length, watching keenly as he hisses at your little touches. whispering out a, “so pretty.”

he’s watched and replayed this scene so many times in his head; you laid out between his legs pressing puffed lips against his cock, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

you stretch out your jaw, letting him plug up your warm mouth. his eyes roll so far back with a deep groan, your tongue laying flat on his veiny underside as you bob your head on him, your hand moving to massage and squeeze what doesn’t fit in your wet mouth, the other groping at his heavy balls, “fe— haah, feel so good.”

he’s already so close from earlier, raising his ass to buck into your little mouth even though you’re full of him. his tip knocking against the back of your throat making you whine out muffled, “hmph mhmm” ‘s

“don’t — shit. don’t talk with your mouth full, baby. take me all in, you can do it”

he grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing you all the way down making you gag, spit pooling and spilling out around where he clogs your little mouth up. tears line your eyes, spilling over your cheeks as he fills up your throat, “aht aht baby take it all. you’re almost there. c’mon ….. mhhmmm theeeeere you go”

you pull off of him gagging and coughing out glops of fat, foamy spit.

“oh ‘m sorry, sweet thing” he leans in to lick at the spit and tears dripping down the point of your chin before kissing you. his plump pink lips pressing so harshly against yours, tongue sliding greedily into your mouth licking at every corner. the clumsy wetness of it all has you panting as he pulls back, clear spit trailing from your mouths.

“please .. let me fuck you. been wanting to for so long”

his eyes sort of soften as they bore into yours, begging silently with a puppy like glow.

“ .. me too” you assure and he moves to guide you onto your back, grabbing your legs. he presses a sweet kiss to the base of your ankle, “mm. i’ll take such good care of this pretty pussy. ‘s mine now, right?

“yes .. yes, choso. fuck me. ‘m all yours”

he pushes your little thong to side to smear his swollen fat tip against your messy folds, pushing up against your clit “so wet f’me baby .. i did that? you liked having me down your throat that much?”

“hnngg, cho— stop teasing”

then, he realized that you came into the room with nothing but an oversized tee. and a cute little thong. for him. slapping his cock against your pretty cunt three times before smearing against your folds again.

he sinks into your warmth with a long, drawn out, “fuuuuuucckk” at how your little pussy opens up for him, squeezing him so tight. and he’s so big. stretching you out, dragging his fat length against your pinky walls, pushing his hips into yours until he fully bottoms out.

his hands dig into your skin, so rough he might leave bruises because he’s trying so hard to keep himself grounded and not dump his cum into you right this moment. you feel so good. too good.

he moves slowly at first. letting your pussy adjust to him as his thumb swipes against your clit, easing him in. “‘s almost there, baby, you can do it. let me in, pretty girl”

he continues to pet your clit, then you look up into his eyes. and they stare back into yours. dark purple swirled around pools of black, “harder”

that’s all he needed to hear.

his hips harshly slam into yours, your body arching up to meet his deep strokes. angling to make sure the sweet curve of his cock hits that spot that makes you shake, bolts of pleasure striking through your entire body.

the room fills with your little whines, pretty broken moans of his name. heat emitting from your body and mixing with his as he moves to grab at your boobs. the tips of his fingers tweaking and pulling your nipples, “aahhh, cho—so fuck”

your legs hang over his shoulder, sweat slipping and sliding down his temples, “tell me you’re mine” reaching up you struggle to hold on to the girth of his biceps, “yours! ‘m all yours!”

you’re so close. so sensitive, your pussy clenching and pulsing around him in tune with every heavy snap of his waist. “go ahead, baby. give it to me”

it’s feels like you’re on fire. every inch of your body so overwhelmed it’s almost painful. your skin flushes and a warm sensation washes over your entire body as you squeeze around him, “theeeree you go, baby, mhhm, that’s it” shaking against his strong arms when your orgasm cracks like lightning and rips through you.

his cock throbs inside you, his strokes growing sloppy and heavy as he fucks you through your high. overstimulating your pussy. he pushes to drain his thick cum inside you. paint your warm walls with him, groaning out your name.

“holy— shit..” his breaths come out in heavy gasps, twitching you as he grows soft in the solitude of your silky walls.

he’s so warm. filling you all the way up with fat globs of cum. “mmmm, keep me in, baby” pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your parted lips. then another to the tip of your nose.

as soon as his ac gets fixed, he’s going to throw away that stupid toy. he’s got the real thing to fill up now.

© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

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There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.