#this was supposed to be a silly doodle then it got a little out of hand;;; (ONE MONTH LATER.)

[vinnigami]

October 7 2023

Susano-o

[krisseratops]

Oh, and Carnage for the character bingo :3

*Clawing my way out of loosely packed grave soil* Hiii honey! I'm back! So sorry for the late reply, I zoned out for a second and suddenly two weeks had passed. Anyways! Carnage, you ask? Well...

She is a menace to society. An absolute chaos gremlin. Also very pretty. But most importantly, they are a little shit and I vibe with him on a spiritual level.

(I should probably mention that the version of Carnage that lives rent free in my head can be quite canon divergent. But such is the fate of any blorbo of mine.)

Thank you so much for asking! And would you look at that, we got a bingo!

[sysig]

What’s Bun-Bun’s signature colour? (Patreon)

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[bluefunkybeats]

PAPAS TAKING THEIR KID OUT TO A MEAL AND THERE’S AN ACTIVITY SHEET

Papas who do a quick glance over to your child’s now crayon-infested activity sheet, and immediately finds the last ‘spot the difference’ that your child’s been taking ages to find. Leans back a bit on the chair, crosses his arm and all, and has the smallest satirical ego over it. Depending on your man, he may overdo it a bit with a tongue-in-cheek motion and might spill out a tease.

TOJI, GETO, GOJO, SUKUNA, SHIU, RAFAYEL, SYLUS (but is genuinely really helpful and leans in to help your kid, calling out all the objects in the picture again so they can get it for themselves)

Papas who are the ones struggling to find the last ‘spot the difference’ in this stupid back of a kid’s paper menu. He started out confident when your kid asked him for help a while ago, receiving the crayon and activity like they were asked to sign an autograph for the little one. But now, they’re hunched over with their hand to their forehead or pushing their hand back (supported by their elbow on the table), the other hand idly hovering a crayon over the activity sheet. It was funny to him at the beginning, but now the ice of his drink is really starting to melt and he looks dishevelled.

GOJO, SUKUNA, YUUTA, SHIU, CHOSO, HIGUMURA, RAFAYEL

Papas who couldn’t find the last word or difference in the activity sheet and during the meal give the occasional glance over again to see if they can get it now. When they start hovering over the now food-stained sheet you know they’re taking it way too seriously now.

SYLUS, MEGUMI, SHIU

Papas who take the silly crosswords as serious as a prestigious morning paper’s. It becomes a family free-for-all, and if he finds the most words, he will playfully take a sip of your drink (!!) through the straw and claim it a just reward.

ZAYNE, NANAMI, INUMAKI, SHIU

Papas who are way overdoing it with the colouring in. They’re a bit too entranced in it for a while, and theres visible evidence as their outlines are a deeper colour, they are adding their own details within the simple black printed lines. If they’re pro, maybe there’s even some lighting details made with the otherwise futile white crayon.

RAFAYEL, CHOSO

Papas who got their allocated part of the activity sheet to colour in but their section looks more scribbly and more out of the lines than their kid’s. Yeah, you can tell your man was definitely a bit too heavy-handed with his crayons…

SUKUNA, TOJI

Papas who do little silly doodles on the small blank spaces on the sides of the activity sheet. Either a lot of artistic talent or a slop doodle which is still held to high regard due to how much character is in it. Cannot commit to colouring in the images you’re actually supposed to colour in.

XAVIER, YUUJI, INUMAKI, SYLUS (draws cat you and smaller cat; supposedly your little girl who takes after you)

Papas who, as their child colours in, are giving an entire monologue, pretending they are professionally commentating over your kid’s(in this diner’s make believe world, an esteemed artist) ‘masterpiece’. “The blue tones mixed with the reds is to showcase …”

RAFAYEL

BONUS:

Papas who make little origami boats with the napkins. Eventually goes on try to teach his little bundle of joy how to do it but oh no, the little one is not having it- they just want their papas to make paper boats out of thin air for them!

ZAYNE, NANAMI, SHIU, HIGURUMA

based on this picture

[moonstruckmoony]

A Ravenclaw Lunch 🦅

Drew some of my favorite Ravenclaws on this platform. Although one isn't necessarily a Ravenclaw. (@traceyc-uk I genuinely thought he was a Ravenclaw when I first saw him lol but I saw your comment reply somewhere that your first playthrough was Ravenclaw so I think this counts… a bit? 😂)

This post is basically a peace offering (and a love letter) bcs I want to make more Ravenclaw friends 👀👉🏻👈🏻 definitely not because I'm obsessed with you guys' MCs

I swear it was supposed to be a silly doodle at first but idk how or when down the line but somehow it turned into this mega drawing. Took me weeks to finish it. I’m not happy with a few technical things especially lights and shadows… and some other things as well but I leave it be bcs I’m aware that I’m still learning 🥲 The rest I’m pretty satisfied with, I’m just happy that I got to finally finish this.

Front row (left to right):

Violet and Pearl Castellar by @vienguinn Omg HAPPY BELATED BELATED BIRTHDAY TO THESE BABIES! These 2 are some of my favorites and everytime you post I always open my phone real quick, your short comics are my comfort 🩵

Clora Clemons by @choccy-milky I cannot not draw Clora?!!?! I consider you a legend in this fandom tbh 👑 also I want to thank you bcs your fic and illustrations literally helped me go through my stressful period when I was at my lowest bcs of my new demanding job that I started half a year ago. I look forward to your post everytime and your Clora and Seb always heals my soul 😭🩵💚

Sally Salamander by @siboom777 Sally is just so wacky and unapologetically herself and I love her for it 🩵 Does she take commissions for toys tho?

Marvin Jerry by @runicxraven MY LOVELY SILLY ADORABLE LITTLE NERD 💗💗💗💗 I need more Marvin in my life honestly.

@najiang ‘s MC - I’m so so sorry I didn’t draw her full face😭, I tried my best to show her face as much as I can while still looking like she’s taking those sausages haha. But anyway please know that I love your art so so much and I kept going back to the curry one and the one where MC came across Amit with beard as adults (that one is hilarious). Idk if your MC has a name or you left it nameless? I assume it was the latter but if she has one I’d love to know!

Faustine Daemon by @faustinio27 Hey, a fellow INFJ! Winter is the same 🩵 I really love her story and especially her personality character sheet, you drew her expressions really well and I’m a fan!

Back row (left to right):

Oliver Lennox by @pixie-dustss Handsome boi 🥰 We’re friends already (I hope I’m not the only one who thinks that way 🫢) from TikTok and you made me a video for Secret Santa last year and I just found out recently that you’re on Tumblr too so I want to say thanks by drawing Oliver! 🩵🩵🩵

Aurélie Collins by @morelikeravenbore I loove this look for Aura, she just looks so chic with the hat and scarf 😭🩵 Sassy Ravenclaw bebe 🥰 My Winter has some French heritage (the lore is still rotting in my notebook bcs I haven’t had the chance to draw her family members 🥲) so I do hope they can be friends and Aura would teach her French bcs she can’t speak much of it 👉🏻👈🏻

Alistair Dusk by @speedysart Surprise! You commented on my last speedpaint on Tiktok yesterday and I want to spill this art so bad but I was almost done so I kept my mouth shut haha. I love the pretty boi’s hair and piercings, and the fact that you chose this blazer for him, I just love it he looks so dapper in that 😣🩵

Eleonora Russel by @zordanna I love sweet Eleonora and her fascination with the moon and stars 🩵🌌 Oh and I kept coming back to your “I feel like an orange” Tiktok bcs it’s so fluffy and it heals my stress… also I adore your art it’s super soft and painty and delicate 🥹💗

@traceyc-uk ‘s MC - YOUR MC. I SWEAR TO MERLIN HE’S ON MY MIND 24/7 LATELY. Not sure why, it’s probably bcs I kept re-reading your comics. Also bcs he’s an adorable little golden retriever (but also a fierce cat!😼) You’re super talented in drawing comics and facial expressions, I have a lot to learn especially in terms of layouting… last time I made a comic I hated the layout and the fact that it looks stiff to me, so your comics has been such an inspiration!

[j-l-kepler]

aw for fuck sake this was supposed to be a doodle. im so sorry i cant draw dragonborn for SHIT

i restarted my gloomstalker ranger Briar (an old save and fan companion i made MONTHS ago) in the same playthrough as my Default Dark Urge, but my self-indulgent pile of worms i call a brain has been constantly thinking about @meanbossart's Drow and @barbatusart's Myialmiashkmiath Shammael. absolute delights.

my train of thought went from "hee hee drow companion" to "hey what if. what if they were in the same camp" and briar's got high wisdom but her perception and insight proficiencies are worthless garbage she doesn't sleep. no way in hell would she figure out any companion mysteries without somebody explicitly pointing them out. as far as she knows, her new camp mates are just kinda silly. unsure if she knows if shammy's a dragonborn or just thinks he's a really big kobold.

had to be a little self-indulgent when it comes to the tavs/durges of my fave artistic duo....

totally havent spent the last 48 hours making bg3 shit instead of doing my job.

[kaitobromota]

[Blows the dust off this blog] Long time no see...

Back in the Danganronpa pits... have some silly doodles for an...AU? or like, slight canon divergence/missing scene? I got to chapter 5 in my THH replay and was thinking about the part where these four are alone in the gym dismantling Monokuma all night.

I know realistically it's supposed to be because they were paranoid and extra careful about taking it slow so nothing went wrong... but like... their alibi is from 10pm to 7am? In my heart of hearts it actually took the whole night because they kept getting distracted and chit-chatting and got into a bunch of shenanigans once the actual dismantling part was done. Like Byakuya says they went to the bathroom in pairs?? Not to mention you'd totally expect him to make a comment about how insufferable it was being stuck together for like nine hours. And Hina says they played rock paper scissors to decide who brought back breakfast???

You can't tell me they didn't bond at least a little bit. A friend pointed out it'd have the vibes of a 4am discord call and that's exactly it. Emotional confessions about personal fears and insecurities to dumb physiological debates that become inside jokes forever. Etc.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 2

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

Sep. 1974

It’s as if you’re already going off to college. Dropping her baby off for the first day of first grade gives your mom crippling worry. She tugs at the fabric of your frilly pink top that she was gifted while you were still in her belly.

There is a part of her that always wants you by her side. She can’t let go of when you were a brand new babe. You and her did everything together. She still sits in the back with the other parents, while you practice at your etiquette classes on Saturdays.

If you could tell her how ridiculous they are without shattering her spirit, you would without a second thought. Who knew there were so many different types of spoons? Or that walking with your shoulders up is aggressive and unladylike?

You have much more fun when you’re digging for worms with Eddie and racing him around the trailer because you’re faster than him even on such short legs.

A set of footsteps approach from behind where you stand at the front of the school. It tears your mom up, but she’s got to stop picking at your clothes and slicking down loose pieces of hair. You’re clean, you’ve been fed a full meal and you have your lunch pale. Oh - she twists your arm. Lunch pale? Where’s your- the pink strap drops from her shoulder.

“Here, baby,” she might lose her head if she isn't careful. Handing over your lunch pale, she loops the strap over your shoulder and secures it with a tight tug. “You ready?”

Wayne’s giving a lecture to Eddie about responsibility, and he’s hoping that whatever Eddie is staring at behind him isn’t too interesting and that he’s actually listening to what his uncle is saying. Alas, there’s only so much he can do.

“You take her hand and you walk her straight to her classroom. Eddie,” Wayne’s warning straightens Eddie out, “make sure the teacher sees her. Okay?”

“I got it,” Eddie kicks the gravel under him. “Can I go now?”

“Hug,” it isn’t a question and Wayne sneaks a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head.

Meanwhile, your mom is suffocating you into an endless hug. She holds back her tears as best as she can, but her sniffling gives away the secret.

When she’s ready, you turn away from her. Your backpack is half of your size. Silly little doodles and sparkles scream out across the fabric.

Eddie holds out his hand, and you gladly wrap your fingers around his. The two of you are sucked into the swarm of kids entering the school building, and your mom will stand there until she absolutely is sure that pink glittery bag is gone.

“Do you think it ever gets easier?” She toys with the necklace around her neck.

Wayne wipes her eye, “no, I suppose not.”

“Do you want to get a bite to eat before I head off to work?” Your mom offers. “I’ll pay.”

“I’ll pay,” Wayne shakes his head. “I’ll meet you at the diner around the corner.”

The crowd tightens inside the school, where you’re hardly able to move around the sea of kids. Parents hang around outside of the classrooms waving goodbye to their children.

You’re hardly sure of yourself. The school is still new under your feet. Tile slips beneath you. Everything smells fresh inside. It’s clean. You’re a fan of clean.

Eddie keeps to his word and even tightens his grip when you’re about to be separated by a bigger guy. Fifth graders. They’re all that once they’re at the top of the food chain. Compared to scrawny you, you’re like a minnow in a sea of swordfish.

You near an open classroom where the orange candy colored door has a number one stuck onto a bright orange sun. There’s a few smiley face stickers dancing down the door frame.

A friendly face greets you at the door. Her hair is like the maple syrup you drown your pancakes in. Skin like soap. And, you think she smells like mint.

“Good morning, Eddie!” Her cherry cheeks pinch upwards. “Are you helping your friend to class? That’s very sweet of you!”

Eddie was enrolled in her first grade class a few years ago. Mrs. Clark is one of the kindest ladies that he ever met. They had fun guessing colors and counting numbers together. Sometimes she would give them funny little rewards like candy or cool shiny pencils.

Mr. Brown, Eddie’s new third grade teacher, will surely not do that. The man is about as interesting as a plank of wood. Still, he should try to learn something. Maybe he can finally master cursive writing. That would be a neat trick.

You spin around when Mrs Clark ushers you forward. Brows furrowed into the center of your forehead, Eddie drops your hand and sends you on your way with a wave.

“I’ll see you at recess,” he reassures you.

“Okay,” you swallow those nerves. “Bye, Eddie.”

There’s a hum that separates the classroom from the hallway. Chaos consumes outside the room, but inside is much calmer and quieter. Encouraging posters flash at you from the walls. An alphabet stretches across two corners or the walls at the tippy top. You know your alphabet like you know your numbers because your mom wouldn’t let you rest all summer. She insisted you must know them, before you get into class.

“Do you see your name on the front of any of these desks?” Mrs. Clark encourages your independence.

Weaving between the rows of desk, you do find your name plastered largely on a piece of construction paper that sits atop your desk. You hang your backpack over the back of the desk, before sliding into your chair.

“You can color your name tag if you would like,” she encourages, “you can use your crayons or there’s a big bucket we share over there.”

There’s a whole wall of construction paper, crayons, markers and art supplies that you could choose from. You’re going to enjoy this class a lot. You just know it.

Mrs. Clark leaves you to return to the hallway, while waiting for a few more kids. That cookie cutter grin never leaves her face.

Your mom told you that everything you need is inside that backpack. Unzipping the biggest pocket, you find a purple pencil case. It still has that zesty waxy smell from last year. You go ahead and drop the case onto your desk, before popping the lid open.

“Hi,” pops out a young brunette girl about your height and weight. She’s got on overalls that are one size too big, and she’s missing a tooth in the front of her face.

“Hi,” you smile with all of your teeth.

“Can I borrow some of these?” Her eyes go wide with interest at the particularly pretty pink crayon you have in that box.

You are ready to tell her that there’s a shareable box on the countertop that’s already being picked through by several of your classmates, but before you get the chance, she’s already taken a couple of your crayons. Scrunching your brows into a tight knot, you let the interaction go for now. Your mom’s voice rings in your ears to share with the other kids.

It’s not your favorite thing to do, and your mom chops that up to not having a sibling. Mom says you won’t get one, even though you really want one. Apparently it’s too difficult to get a sibling these days, they’re really expensive. You’ve never seen a store in the mall that sells siblings, but your mom has never been one to lie to you.

They must be rare.

The crayon thief sits right across from you, so you can keep an eye on her. Tongue stuck out from focusing too hard on whatever she’s coloring, you peak over to see. She’s got a cool fish doodled on the right side of the construction paper. The pink is being used roughly to draw some scales across his back.

“That’s cool,” you pipe up.

She finishes the scales, before she speaks to you again, “thanks! Yours is cool too!”

You spent a couple moments drawing lines and shapes across the piece of construction paper in all different colors.

“Thanks!” You say, “What’s your name?”

Lifting the piece of construction paper out in front of her with such theatrics, she traces her name across the paper.

“Robin,” she points. “Yours?”

In a swift motion, you’re also holding up the construction paper so she can read your name off. She nods in acknowledgment, and hands off your pink crayon. Bye, not without sneaking the orange one to scribble a few more scales.

“We should eat lunch together,” Robin decides in that moment. “I don’t have many friends, but I think you’re going to be one of them.”

Your face flushes, “Okay, Robin.”

The moment of chatter has passed, as soon as Mrs. Clark comes into the room with an agenda. She begins by writing her name out in big letters across the chalkboard and then telling you guys something interesting about herself. She has a big dog named Fluffy.

You want a dog, but your mom does not. She tells you that you’re enough responsibility. Dogs are messy.

You never get what you want.

Most of the morning time goes without a hiccup. You’re spelling new words, and your teacher even gives you a list to share with your mom. There’s also something called ‘adding’ and ‘subtracting.’ You haven’t quite gotten the hang of that yet. But, your new friend Robin understands. Her hand shoots up faster than anyone else in class.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re all told to stand in a straight line at the front of the classroom. Mrs. Clark is leader. You stand with Robin somewhere in the middle, and await your turn to walk. Clutching your lunch bag, you’re excited to share what you have with Robin. She didn’t come with a lunch today, but rather a few dollars to pay for food.

The cafeteria is quite a ways down the hall. You pass by other classrooms that are also ready for lunch. Maybe you’ll find more friends from those classes. Where is Eddie?

When you get into the lunch room, the cafeteria is nearly bare. The children who have a lunch are instructed to sit at a table and to eat what they came with. You’re sitting down amongst a small group of girls that hardly pay attention to you. Their pretty bows wrapped in their hair and their nails all painted up tells you what you need to know.

“This seat is saved,” is also a clue.

You scoot down to give them room for their friend that will never come. Putting your lunch box on top of the table, you undo the straps to find what’s inside. Your mom has given you a sandwich with the crusts cut off. There’s a baggy of chips and a juice pouch. Your favorite flavor.

While you snack on the chips, the cafeteria begins to flow with more life. Eventually, you do see Eddie. He comes into the cafeteria with his own classroom. They’re rambunctious and awfully loud. Eddie heads for the long line to buy his lunch, but not before catching you sitting by yourself and he sends a wave your way.

You wave back at him, and hear the girls next to you snickering. Dropping your hand, you go back to hiding in your bag of chips. One of the girls leans to your ear;

“Do you like-like him or something? Is he your boyfriend?” She snickers. “He looks like a girl. Look at his hair! Do you like girls or something?”

“Eddie is my friend, and he’s not a girl,” your eyes begin to well up, but you take a deep breath before any of them fall.

“Aw,” she doesn’t miss a beat, “you gonna cry? Where’s your mommy?”

Robin approaches the scene just in time, as she overhears these pigs making fun of you. Slamming her tray in between you and her, she swings her leg over the bench.

“This seat is saved,” the girl scoffs, then puts her hand on the bench.

“I don’t see any name on it,” Robin sits hard onto the girls knuckles.

The girl yelps, and babies her fist.

“Are you going to cry?” Robin imitates the girl’s pouty lip.

“I’m telling!” The girl shouts in defeat.

“I’m not scared of you,” Robin rolls her eyes as the girl gets up. When she’s gone, she faces you, “you okay? Don’t let her get to you.”

“I’m okay,” you hold out your pudding cup. “Here.”

“Oh, wow!” Robin beams. “Thanks! You want my jello?”

“Sure!”

The two of you talk about not-so-important details of each other’s life. Robin’s bedroom has a red clock on the nightstand, and your bedroom used to be an extra closet before you were born. It’s all the same to you. Then, Robin tells you about her parents being business people. She’s not really sure what that means, but the house they live in is just down the street. She says she’ll talk to her mom, and maybe you can sleepover sometime.

You’ll talk with Robin throughout lunch, and then some more while you play on the structure outside at recess. The slide quickly becomes your favorite. Robin really likes the swings. While you push her on the swings, Eddie takes a turn on the one next to you two.

“Hi!” Eddie bounces into the seat.

You wave, “Robin, this is my neighbor, Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” Robin twists about in the swing. “Do you want to play?”

“Okay,” Eddie taps your shoulder. “Tag, you’re it!”

Wind whipping in your face, you dart through the play structure after Eddie. Robin hugs the slide where you can’t see her, but her laughter gives her away. You tap on her shoulder because Eddie has grown much longer legs, and you’re too tired to find him across the field.

You dash away in Eddie’s direction. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you charge at him to yelling that Robin is ‘it’ now. Hugging a tree, you spin a few times, before Robin will give up and run after Eddie.

It’s not too long, before a few of Eddie’s friends join in on the fun. They’re older and much speedier than the two of you, but the chase is so rewarding.

Lungs burning. Heart pounding. A smile that cracks the sides of your lips. The only reason you stop the game is because a whistle blows in the distance. You're beckoned inside by your teachers.

"I'll see you later, Eddie!" You wave to him across the playground.

Eddie shouts from the line forming in front of his class, "Bye!"

-> <-

[July 1979]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92

[sorchathered]

You’re still the one💙

Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- language, a little bit smutty, angst with lots of pining and longing.

Summary- Bob’s come back to his small town in Georgia for his best friends wedding, will their plan to bring him back together with his high school sweetheart work out? Or will it end in more heartache?

When Bob had gotten the wedding invite in the mail he’d been so thrilled, truly. His best friend Sam had done the impossible, made the long distance work through college and grad school and now finally he was marrying his high school sweetheart Millie. He was happy for them, really he was. The only thing that could’ve been better is if he was sharing this with you. This was supposed to be the two of you, conquering your goals and then winding up together, but it hadn’t worked out the way either of you planned and it had been longer than Bob knew since he’d seen your face.

Millie had asked if your old band from high school would reunite for the wedding music and you’d been over the moon, a few of you had continued to play together and occasionally doing a gig or two just for old times sake, knowing that she wanted you involved in her special day made your heart swell.

The closer the date got the more dread seemed to settle in your bones, you’d stalked Bob’s socials and sneakily asked if he was bringing a date, but the look Sam had given you when he said Bob was coming alone let you know he knew exactly what you were hoping. Maybe he didn’t have someone waiting for him in California, maybe he had even asked about you, and for the first time in almost 6 years you let yourself hope.

In his lonely little apartment in Coronado Robert Floyd was doing about as well as you. He’d thought of nothing but you since that invitation showed up in his mail, hell that was a lie; he spent most nights thinking of you if he was truly honest with himself. He was sure Sam and Millie were already plotting some elaborate scheme to push the two of you together over the wedding celebration and he had to laugh at their dedication. He still wasn’t sure how things had gotten so screwed up. Long distance had been hard, deployments, work schedules and midterms seemed to keep the two of you from ever being able to make concrete plans and eventually it felt like you two had just grown apart too much for repair.

He should’ve fought harder, any attempts to move on over the years had been a complete disaster because how was he supposed to find someone new when he was still hung up on you? Natasha always loved to pick on him about it, that one day he’d have to move on or would have to have his “rom com moment” as she called it and sweep you back off your feet but Bob figured you’d long forgotten about him by now. If he only knew that you’d been just as hung up as he was, but neither of you had been brave enough to reach out.

The wedding festivities were in full swing this week, Millie had sent you the final list of songs she wanted for the wedding and you had added a few crowd favorites as well. You missed the days of jamming with your friends, being a music teacher was so rewarding and it had been everything you’d dreamed it would be, but you couldn’t deny that you were looking forward to getting to let loose with old friends.

You were in full nostalgia mode by the time the weekend of the wedding, thinking of all the things you’d had planned for yourself way back when. You’d had your whole wedding planned out, you knew it had been silly but you’d dreamed of a party with all your friends and at the center of it the boy you’d loved since you were a little girl. Deep in the recesses of your parents attic was a hot pink sparkly notebook from senior year with a list of songs you wanted for your own wedding day, gel pen rainbow font with little cursive scribbles of Mrs. Robert Floyd and hearts doodled all over the page. But that had been another lifetime ago, and just the thought of how much time had changed you both brought tears to your eyes.

Bob was so glad to be back home, it had been ages, his mother was already fussing about how he needed to eat more and catching him up on all the town gossip. He wanted to ask about you, but she beat him to the punch; gushing about the musical the middle school was putting on and how hard you were working to make it a success. It looked like all your dreams had come true, you were doing what you loved, but his mama could see the far off look in his eyes as she spoke, she knew all too well what he was feeling.

“You should call her you know, I have her number if you want it.” She’d said softly as she touched his hand but he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Oh Mama, too much time has passed, I’m sure she’s got someone who could treat her way better than me.” She patted his hand lovingly and shook her head, “Sweet boy, there were never two people better suited for one another than the two of you. I don’t think she ever moved on, I know you didn’t. You know…she lives in the old Macon house on Water Road, not too far if you wanted to take a walk.”

“Mama! “ he said harshly but his features didn’t match his tone at all, he was trying his best not to laugh at her persistence.

She put her hands up and laughed, “I’m just saying, the night air might do you some good. After all life is too short sweetheart.” He thought of his father, taken from them too soon and how his mother had never found anyone else. He’s been her everything, Bob had always thought that would be the same with the two of you.

She heads up for the evening and he’s left alone with his thoughts again. Her house isn’t that far, maybe 5 minutes, and it’s only 8 pm on a Friday she would probably still be awake…

Before he can really mull it over he’s slipping on his shoes and heading out the door, feet carrying him down the sidewalks and past the quaint antebellum style houses illuminated in the orange glow of the street lights until he finds himself at your door. He’s warring with himself about knocking, what the hell was he doing? He’d barely spoken to you in almost 6 years, this was stupid he should’ve never done this. As he turns away to walk down the porch steps he hears the lock click and turning of the door handle, light illuminating the porch as you poke your head out into the night.

“Robby? Is that you?” You say quietly, a small smile on your lips as you look him over with eager eyes. Time had been good to you, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful girl on earth and that certainly hadn’t changed. You weren’t a young girl anymore, your figure was all curves, he couldn’t help but tighten his fists thinking about running his hands over your voluptuous body. Snap out of it Floyd, get your shit together, he thought as you looked at him with confusion evident on your face.

“Well? You gonna come in? Your mama told me you were coming by, I’ve just been sitting by the window listening out for you.” You said as you opened the door a little wider for him to step through. “Of course she did” he muttered, shaking his head with a dark chuckle, leave it to Susan Floyd to take things into her own hands.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway, “I can’t really read your faces anymore Floyd, do you want to come in or are we gonna let all the bugs into my house tonight?” Hands on your hips, sassy remark, yep you were still every bit the spitfire he remembered, that take no shit attitude clearly hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Yeah, yeah y/n I was coming by, sorry I just…I had an idea in my head of what I was gonna say and now here I am and I’ve got nothing.” He said sheepishly as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. You reached for the hand at his side and pulled him through the doorway, closing the door and scooting him in the direction of the couch. Bossy. As always.

“How about I get you a glass of sweet tea and we get all the awkward small talk out of the way, or we could just skip it if you want? I’ve been keeping up with your life through your mom but if you’ve got questions I’m happy to answer them.” You said as you shuffled down the hall to the little kitchen, Bob plopping himself down on your ridiculously comfy velvet couch. “You keep up with me?” He said in shock, he never would’ve thought you’d give him a second thought after he let everything crash and burn, maybe his mama had been right to push him this way.

“Of course I do, it’s not every day you get to be in the top 1% in your field, especially with a job like yours. I’ve always cheered you on, just didn’t think you’d ever show up here, kinda figured you’d forgotten all about me.” You said as you placed down a Mason jar of sweet tea and a tin of shortbread cookies, you’d said it so nonchalantly but he could see in your eyes the hurt was still there.

“I’ve kept up with you too, I- uh I’ve looked at your instagram, and Millie of course updates me when I ask, even if she is still pissed at me about how things ended. You uh- you look like you got everything you wanted in your career too. Mama said the school play is gonna be a big success. I know you’ve gotta be thrilled.”

You nodded, just bringing up your students brought the light back into your eyes. “They are the best, I thought it’d be weird teaching at our old school but truly it is such a joy. These kids love music, it’s so much fun watching them show off their creativity. And as for Millie…Well I’m pretty sure she and Sam have some elaborate plan to “accidentally” trap us in a closet together tomorrow until we work everything out. They’ve been oddly sneaky lately.” You laugh out, and Bob can’t help but join in, they definitely weren’t subtle but you could both agree they were damn good friends.

You both laughed and talked for hours, going through the whole tin of cookies as you caught up on each other’s lives, somewhere in the early morning hours you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and Bob felt his heart stutter in his chest as he looked down at you. He’d missed this, just being with you.

You had been his favorite person for his entire childhood, how did he let things get so out of hand? It couldn’t be comfortable being propped up like that, so Bob carefully pulled you into his arms and carried you to your room. It was nearly 4 am, he would just crash on your couch like a gentleman should and make an excuse to bail when he woke up. Laying you on the bed he made to step away but you curled your fist into his shirt, murmuring “stay with me” as you pulled him closer, and how could he possibly tell you no? He toed off his shoes and slid in next to you, falling asleep to the sounds of your breathing and warm body pressed to his.

He couldn’t place where he was when he woke up, just that it smelled like coffee and pancakes and somehow he’d slept in. Upon opening his eyes it all came back to him, how you’d asked him to stay and he’d fallen asleep in your arms, he felt hot all over just thinking about it, anxiety filling his chest as he worried about how to navigate the sure to be awkward morning after conversation. Again he wondered how they’d gotten so far from where they’d begun; but one thing hadn’t changed, holding you had simply brought it all back. The feelings he had never wavered, and he was fairly sure he was even more smitten with you now after catching up than he had been before.

You were dancing around in the kitchen as you cooked, spatula acting as a microphone while Fleetwood Mac played from your phone. Clad in a tattered t-shirt and pajama shorts from the night before with your hair messily piled on your head. There was that feeling again, the heat blooming in his chest and the butterflies he’d never felt for anyone but you. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. You couldn’t be more beautiful to him than you were in this moment, he wished he could burn it into his brain forever.

You spun around to the beat but jumped almost a foot in the air when you noticed him, clutching your chest as giggles erupted from you both. “Oh! Oh my god Robby you scared the hell out of me! Did’ya sleep ok? Want breakfast?” You said gesturing behind you to the steaming pile of pancakes and bacon, he wanted breakfast for sure but he knew one thing he wanted more than that.

He crowded you up against the stove, leaning behind you to cut the burner off as he looked down at you with a small smile. “Breakfast sounds good, sweet girl, but we need to talk first.”

“Uh huh” you said and he could tell he had the same dizzying effect on you, that was good, he was hoping this wasn’t one sided.

“I had more fun with you last night than I’ve had in years, and I can’t think of why we ever stopped doing this in the first place. Well a reason that actually counts anyways. I know it’s sudden, hell you probably have a line out the door hoping for a date but-“

“Yes!” You blurted out, nodding your head as you abandoned the spatula and gripped the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours.

You’d meant it to be sweet, just a peck to let him know you wanted the same things he did, but it had been so long, and no one had ever made you feel like he did. It got heated fast, muscular arms wrapped around your waist pulling you in so tight that nothing to get between you, hands in his hair as his kisses became more urgent, opening his mouth to you as you moaned softly into his, and the noise seemed to flip a switch as he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you back down the hall to your bedroom.

It was as sweet and smooth as molasses, he unwrapped you like a present as you tugged at his clothes, you wanted him as bare as you were. He eagerly obliged, tossing his shirt and jeans somewhere across your room as he climbed back into bed and pressed you into the mattress.

“Y/n I-“

“I know baby, I feel it too. Make love to me Robby.”

And so he did, again and again until the two of you felt boneless, breakfast long forgotten and morning seeping into early afternoon.

You’d fallen asleep in his arms around one, and he knew he’d have to wake you up soon to get ready for the wedding and go home to get his suit. He just wanted to stay wrapped up in this a little longer, as much as he needed this to be real again he also knew there was so much red tape. You lived on the opposite coast from him, your career was thriving and you’d never moved away from home. He couldn’t ask you to pack away your life and move every 3-4 years with him. Distance had been what broke you apart last time, he didn’t know if he could bear losing you a second time.

When you finally stirred around 2 you popped up in a panic, you were alone in bed and it was clearly later in the day than you had expected it to be. A sick feeling washed over you, had you interpreted everything wrong? Where was he? Did he regret it and bail?

The sound of a door opening broke you from your thoughts, heavy footfalls down the hallway let you know he hadn’t actually left. He caught your watery eyes looking at him from the doorway and rushed forward to cradle you in his arms, swiping at the tears before they could fall.

“What’s going on it that head of yours? You ok?” He said as he rubbed soothing hands against your back.

“It’s stupid, I woke up alone and I thought..” you stopped and then looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought you’d left” you said with a whisper, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Oh. Aw Shit. I mean I did leave, but for just a minute to grab us some lunch and my suit for tonight, I’m sorry baby I should’ve left a note.” He looked a little embarrassed as well, he was very clearly out of practice when it came to having a partner.

“Ugh, we’re a mess aren’t we?” You chuckled out as you buried your head in his neck, he just nodded as he continued to hold you, he still didn’t know what this was but god he didn’t want to lose it.

“We probably need to figure all of this out y/n, I don’t want to pop the bubble but I can’t shut my brain off. I want this, all of it with you. I’m scared I’m gonna ruin it again.” He was grateful that you couldn’t see his face, he didn’t know if he could keep himself from falling apart if you could.

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” You pulled back to cup his cheeks so he was looking in your eyes. “We were young and stupid back then, but we can do this now. I know we can. If I have to pack up and head to California I will, I’m not saying it won’t be hard but it’s worth it.”

He fucked you slow and steady under the hot spray of the shower after that, worshipping every bit of you and definitely making you both late.

The two of you scrambled to get to the venue, making it right on time, Sam giving Bob a knowing look at his disheveled appearance when he burst into the groom's suite. When you stopped into the bridal suite to check on Millie, she made sure to pick on you for the hickey you’d tried to hide under your ear. Clearly the plan had worked, maybe not how they’d thought but the result was what they were after. You’d have to send his Mama flowers on Monday for her meddling, she’d known what was best even when the two of you didn’t.

The ceremony was beautiful, full of tears and love and Bob couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over to you, he already had plans swirling in his head of wedding rings and a future he’d thought was long lost. After you sang for the reception the band took over and Bob twirled you around the dance floor for much of the evening, he would hold these moments close until he could get you back in his arms again. It had been the perfect weekend.

A few months later you both were carrying moving boxes into his little townhouse, a new job all lined up at the local middle school and the entire summer to spend by the beach with your boyfriend. Everything had fallen into place, and if the little ring box in Bob’s back pocket had anything to do with it, he’d soon be calling you Mrs. Floyd.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @roosterforme @sebsxphia @floydsglasses @sarahsmi13s @bradshawssugarbaby @hangmansgbaby

[comingdownwithme]

PLEASE I WANT MORE TICCIJEFF LORE I NEED TO HEAR MORE ABT IT!!!! IT SEEMS FUNNN!!!!

Ask and you shall receive! I don't have anything too concrete in regards to the silly lil background I made for this ship, so it's probably subject to change later (Especially since I haven't been caught up on the more recent updates on any of the Creepypastas' stories), but here it is anyways! (And have a stupid bonus doodle while we're at it because I couldn't help myself)

Basically, the Woods and Rogers family lived in the same neighborhood for most of their lives, and the kids met during some social event like some neighborhood party. Liu (8) was the first to spot Toby (10) and mentioned how weird he was to Jeff (13) , who- instead of taking it as a deterrent- walked up, told him bluntly that his lil brother thought he was a weirdo, and promptly introduced himself. Thus started a friendship filled with genuine care and sincerity alongside the usually teenage dumbassery! (With Liu being dragged along on occasion against his will)

Jeff was always patient with Toby. Even when his tics and stutters got bad he'd always stay by his side, made sure the other boy had someone he could talk to, someone who would listen, someone who even bothered to try and understand him. And Toby, in turn, would do the same, even when Jeff's own thoughts scared him on some days. The two were near inseparable as years went by, moreso when they continued on with school where Toby would be bullied or judged.

(If Jeff let the awful, curious temptation simmering under his skin let loose, sending a student or two to the nurse after a particularly bad insult, who's to say)

One day though, Jeff and Liu's parents made the decision to move to a better place when their dad landed a good job. They'd be able to go to some place bigger, get things they were never able to get, learn under a school that offers better opportunities.

Jeff would've been happy- especially since the rest of his family seemed to be- if he wouldn't be leaving his best friend.

The weeks before the move was tense, especially in the Woods' household. How the hell were you just supposed to leave a staple part of your life? To let go of something- someone who had been such an integral part of it?

(Would he be ok? How's he going to make it through school? Who's gonna talk to 'im when his dad is out again- God knows where?)

(If Jeff cared a little more, felt a little more than the average friend, who's to say)

Still, the duo tried to spend the time they had, tried to make sure Jeff would leave without any regrets.

When the Woods' boys were packing their last things into their car, the Rogers family standing aside, watching their close, family friends as they prepare their leave, the two teens promised they'd keep in touch.

Years down the line, a white-hooded monster would reminisce about better days as he held a cigarette between bloodstained fingers, wondering what might have been if they had just stayed. The maddening, burning pyre of grief and anger that fueled his bloody venture had simmered into a low, thrumming heat in his melancholy, and the man wondered what his best friend would've thought of him now after everything, after one tragedy after another turned him into something even he considers to be less than human.

Somewhere, deep in the woods, a man, haunted by the glimpses of a life he was never supposed to remember, grips his axe in a white-knuckled grip.

[localkiss]

Princess Sprinkles!

Vendetta Chris Redfield x fem reader!

cw: dd/lg, creampie, squirting (guys idk how squirting feels like....), multiple orgasms (reader), fingering, pet names, praise kink, oral fixation (reader obv), light mentions of breeding, soft dom!Chris!!, afab terms used, size kink ish.., Chris being silly, Chris being a lil mean one time, and some fluff :3 !! — Lmk if I missed anything.

wc: 2005 !! (🤭 birth year go crazyy LOL!)

notes: if you don't like ddlg just um. Idk don't read 💀!! I fr try not to make the reader teeny tiny but like dude Chris is huge asf.. size kink go brrr 🧎🏻‍♀️! I'll be making reader a lil squishy from now on bc I'm not skinny either ☝🏻.Also I used to watch the Bratz babyz movie on repeat sm that the disc got ruined 😭😭 soo.. yes that part is directly from yours truly! Not proof read 😵‍💫

tags: @argreion, @rigorwhoring bc ily guys 😇!!

"Daddy!" You squeal as soon as Chris picks you up and spins you around. Making your fluffy mini pleated skirt twirl upwards.

Chris hoists your pretty body over his shoulders and pats you on the butt, practically skipping towards your shared bedroom. It looks like someone dumped all the squishmallows possible into the master bedroom. He can't help but think of you every time he sees a stuffed animal. Shits rooted in his brain. Stuffies = his angel!

Yeah, he might have to fight with them to make room for himself, but he wouldn't trade it for any other way. He doesn't actually fight them, knowing you'd throw a hissy fit and say "Hate daddy! Forever 'n ever!" Chris's heart shatters like glass whenever you say that.

He's grown softer because of you and those little threats of yours make his heart drop down to the core of the Earth. Would he admit it to team Alpha? No. Never in a million years. But they've got eyes and ears, they're not Patrick Star. Dumb and living under a rock.

Lately he's been covered in hickeys and cute little doodles that're supposed to be like tattoos by yours truly. Goes to work and gets teased by his squad, telling him how you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger. How much you've changed him, for the better. He always shrugs them off, putting them back to work.

You for sure made Chris cut back on smoking a fuck ton. Constantly crying about how the stench will ruin your stuffies and the coat the walls of the house with a film. You're right, that's for sure. And the fact that second hand smoke is even worse is what clicks it into his head for him. His baby. His sweetheart, could end up dying because of his stupid ass habits.

Chris has lost too many of his men because of his habits. Too many good men. You are his savior. He pounds away the guilt into your needy little cunt. Constantly craving him. Needing him. Loving him. Honest to God, he needs that more than anything in this lifetime.

"Sweetheart," he sighs and sets you down onto the bed. "I missed you. Whatcha been up to?"

"Slept 'n colored and um... Ate some snackies, watch movie, 'n had lotsa juice!" You mumble, eyes glancing around the entire room. Using your hands to talk, as your words get slurred when you're in this state of mind.

Chris presses a faint kiss to your temple and noses down to the underside of your ear. Carefully holding the back of your head with his hand. He gives you more kisses and blows raspberries into your ear, making you squeal and swat at him.

"That's good baby. Glad you had a productive day." Chris smiles at you lovingly.

Your heart then swoons, making you feel all mushy inside. Praise gets him everything from you. Just like you crying out for daddy gets you everything from him!

He lazily starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling it through the loops. Setting it down on the bedside table with a thud. He starts to undo his fly, pushing his pants all the way down, kicking out of them.

Only dressed in his boxers and shirt, he engulfs you with a hug. Nuzzling into your neck, feeling your hands grab ahold of his shirt.

"Daddy?"

"Just recharging honey, hold on." His voice is deep and gruffy, sending chills up your spine.

You lay there, body buzzing with warmth as his figure presses you into the mattress. His hips shift and move against yours, causing you to gasp.

Thighs squeezing against his fit waist and he sighs into your neck. "Daddy's not charge. He excited..." Your fingers tug on his shirt and he sits up.

"Off?" Pointing to his shirt and you clumsily remove your own shirt and skirt. Now both of you are only in your underwear. Well, you still have your white thigh highs on, but still.

He presses your thighs up to your chest and settles in the middle as best as he can. Feeling his skin on your skin feels like heaven. Makes your panties wet, which he's noticed but doesn't want to say anything about it. Knowing you get all shy and embarrassed when he points things out like that. He likes it. Thinks it's cute that you want skin ship.

"So pretty baby," he pushes his hips forward. His cock catching onto your clit with each slow roll. "Pretty pussy, pretty tits. Pretty girl. My pretty girl."

Chris leans back and gets rid of his boxers. Pulling your panties up to slip his cock between your folds. Laying back down on top of you. Humping you instead of fucking you.

You can't complain, his tip his pressing against your clit nicely. Your hips rolling up to meet his and his dick slips inside.

He bottoms out immediately with a growl. "Baby. Did I say you could put it in?" Chastising you with a rough thrust, acting like it's your fault his dick slipped inside of your tiny hole.

"Daddy, didn't mean to. Not m'fault," you whine out, kicking your legs.

"S'okay. Daddy will make it all better." Chris presses a kiss to your forehead and acts like he's going to pull it out. Only to harshly thrust it back into you. "Fuck, princess. She's not wanting to let me go. You hear her crying for me?"

Moaning, you dig your nails into his back, "Daddy, daddy, never leave," you start babbling already.

He groans and rabbits his hips, making the bed rock against the wall.

"Wait, daddy, stuffies no want look, turn," you try to speak as he continues to fuck you like he hates you.

"Shit, okay baby. Hold on," he grunts and turns them around as best as he can. "Better now?"

You nod and go in for a kiss and he meets you halfway. Drooling into your mouth and your tongues swirl together before you suck on his. Moaning as he drives himself deeper inside of you. Squelching sounds and skin on skin echoing in the bedroom. Surely you guys won't get a noise complaint this time!

He spits into your mouth and smears it all over your lips with his thumb, pushing it into your mouth. Who needs a pacifier when you've got daddy's thumb?

Watching your eyes flutter shut and your lips wrapping around his thumb, it sets him off. His other hand driving down between you both and rubbing harshly at your puffy nub.

Biting down, you furrow your eyebrows. Breathing quickly and moaning softly. "Close," you hum around his digit. Sucking on it as you get closer and closer.

Chris's dick hits a special spot inside of you and your body shakes underneath him. Pussy trying to push out his cock as a clear liquid shoots out of you.

"Goddamn, baby, squirting on me, mmhh—fuck..." His hips falter and he dumps his cum inside of you. Resting his body on you, burying you into the bed. Making sure his cum never leaves you.

Chris pulls his thumb out of your mouth and kisses you feverishly. "Putting a baby in you, s'that alright princess?" Your pussy agrees by clenching around his thickness.

But he's acting like you've got a choice, since he's already done the deed. He pulls you up into his arms and you guys slowly make your way to the bath. Still connected and full.

Keeping you in his arms, he reaches down to turn on the water and put in the plug. You giggle and some of his cum starts to spurt out and drip down his balls. He settles in the tub with you on his lap, grabbing the soap to fill it with bubbles.

Chris slowly lifts you off of his length and sets you between his legs. Back pressed against his hairy chest. While his cum dribbles out of you.

His fingers make their way down to your sensitive cunt and slowly dips them inside. "Shh, I know baby," pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you whine and claw weakly at his forearms. The other one is keeping you pressed against him.

"Daddy's helping you baby," he starts to curl his fingers and your legs shake. Clearly overstimulated from earlier. But Chris starts to be a bit greedy, smacking his palm against your pretty little pearl.

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, he coaxes you into another orgasm. With the disguise of helping you get his cum out. If anything, he's trying to fuck it back into. Serious about putting a mini him or you inside of your tummy.

"Baby, almost there. Y'got it princess.. mmh.. cum one more time for daddy? Promise I'll clean you up and get us some donuts with sprinkles on 'em, just the way you like." Man, he's even bribing you! Daddy knows what you really want right now. So you whimper in response.

"Daddy, mmhhff... Daddy oh god! Please, please, please!" Your heels dig into the tub as the water fills it. His lips sucking and biting into your neck is what makes you cream around his digits.

Body convulsing and breath raggedy and higher as you come down from your second high of the night. Chris grabs your face and kisses you all over, mumbling praises into your skin. "Good girl, daddy's so proud of you."

Then, he takes his time washing you off, letting you play with the rubber duckies and splashing water onto him. Putting bubbles on his beard and making one for yourself.

"I daddy! See?" You pout and furrow your eyebrows, taking a drag of an imaginary cigarette. Chris rolls his brown eyes and takes the imaginary cigarette and puts it out.

"Babies can't do that stuff, remember? Only daddies can do that, silly baby girl." He wipes the bubbles off of your face and his, nibbling on your earlobe. Making chewing noises, "Om nom nom, my baby tastes so yummy!"

You squeal and press your face into your shoulder. "Daddy! Got wash so we can eat nummy donut! Donut sprinkle!"

He hums and gets to work. Gently washing your back and hair as you wash your front side and down to your toes. Chris hauls you up and he turns on the shower to wash your hair and his. God knows he needs this shower after training his new squad mates today.

Chris washes his own figure as you cup the water in your tiny hands and splash it up in the air. Watching you pretend you have powers as the water runs down your arms and to the tips of your fingers.

"Alright princess. Let's go get some sprinkled donuts," he pats your heart shaped ass with a chuckle. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel, he gets to work drying you off. It reminds you of that Bratz babyz movie. Sure reminds him of it too. From how often you guys watched it, the CD stopped working and you threw a fit.

So of course, he bought a couple more, just in case. It's not like he doesn't have the money for it. So why not keep his baby sated with something so simple as a 2000s movie? He even bought you some Bratz dolls and monster high ones. Likes how you squeal and jump around in excitement every time he buys you something so simple as a doll. Makes him happy.

"Princess sprinkles and daddy sprinkles! Getting donut sprinkles! Sprinkles, sprinkles, sprinkles!" You laugh as he puts on your blue matching cinnamoroll pajamas that he spent fifty dollars on. Worth it in his opinion. Looks so cute on you, he can't help but press kisses all over your cheeks.

"Alright, alright, princess sprinkles. Let's go get in the car. Daddy'll buy you all the chocolate sprinkled donuts there is at the bakery." Chris's heart thumps in his chest. Yeah, there's a sprinkled shaped hole with a sprinkle version of you in his heart.

[dira333]

Your name on my skin - Shinsou x Reader

A/N: What your soulmate writes appears on your skin - requested by @bookishgalaxies

It happens during Homeroom.

One second he’s trying not to fall asleep as Aizawa drones on about the importance of good defense - his metal leg clicking every time he moves around - the next his arm tickles like a horde of ants is dancing on it.

He scratches it, but the tickling doesn’t stop.

Annoyed, Shinsou pulls the sleeve up, only to reel black at the sight. There, on the pale skin of his arm, appears black ink, one letter after the other as if a ghost is writing it.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what that means. 

Well, he doesn’t really know what that means, because where other people’s soulmates write a “Hello?” or introduce themselves by name, his soulmate’s first message is…  E = σ / ε = (F/A)?

Shinsou blinks down at his arm. It’s only the comforting sound of Aizawa’s voice that drones on that keeps him grounded. 

Behind him, someone clears his throat. 

“Hitoshi,” a voice whispers. When he turns around, Izuku is blinking up at him with wide green eyes. He looks both worried and delighted simultaneously, which is a common enough occurrence.

“Can I see?” Izuku asks and Shinsou blinks to the front where Aizawa has taken a seat, eyes most definitely closed for a quick nap. 

“Sure,” he tips his chair back and offers his arm. In a matter of seconds, multiple eyes are on him. 

He’s not the first person this has happened to. Sato’s got a cute soulmate in first grade who blushes every time they come across each other in the hallways. Her first message on his arm was a doodle of his name with a heart around it. 

Fumikage refuses to give out any information about his soulmate but regularly shows off the artwork they’ve created on their skin. Elaborate drawings or silly little doodles mark his skin each day.

And then there’s Bakugo, who’s started wearing long sleeves, barking at everyone who asks if he wants to shed a layer. 

It doesn’t take long for his arms to be absolutely littered with formulas. At least he thinks they’re supposed to be formulas. T = F x r x sin(θ) and P (1 + r/n)(nt) - P, F = m x a and p = eoA(T⁴ - Tc⁴). Izuku has managed to identify quite a few, rambling on about what they mean but Shinsou’s mind can’t follow, too busy trying to wrap itself around the fact that he’s got a soulmate. 

There’s less than a minute left, the coming break looming over him - they’re all going to ask him about it, crowd his table like they did last week with Denki - as he uncaps a pen and scribbles in some of the few spaces left untouched.

“Hello, please use a notebook, I’m running out of skin.”

The sensation stops immediately. His skin starts stinging right above his wrist and when the ink there starts to bleed he realizes. They must have tried to rub it off, saliva probably included.

He writes another line.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Shinsou knows, as he’s writing it, that he will get shit for that nonchalant tone. And he’s right.

But it’s not Mina, or Momo, or even Jirou who convinces him that he needs to adopt a different tone when talking to his soulmate. It’s Bakugo.

-

Bakugo’s arms are littered with poetry. 

The other boy pulls his shirt back on so fast that Shinsou can’t make out much. But he’s seen enough. In every other verse, there are little hearts dotting the i’s. The poems are written in two distinctly different types of handwriting, one of them he’s familiar with. 

“So you’re writing poetry?” Shinsou asks, because why shouldn’t he? 

Bakugo dragged him into his room for a reason and he’s pretty sure he knows what it is. 

After all, Shinsou’s Soulmate has been quiet, not a single drop of ink appearing on his skin ever since. 

“They’re just as scared as we are,” Bakugo huffs, unusually quiet and unable to make eye contact. “You should keep that in mind.”

He doesn’t say any more, pushes him out of his room with a glare that speaks volumes, but Shinsou’s always prided himself in being quick on the uptake.

If the Bakugo Katsuki can learn to write poetry for someone else, he could probably start with an apology. 

-

p = eoA(T⁴ - Tc⁴) is written neatly on the inside of his right arm. 

Shinsou uncaps a pen with his teeth and drags it over the other arm, the still untouched skin. He’d been thinking about this for weeks now, maybe even longer if he’s being honest with himself. 

The year is coming to an end. He’s got a job lined up after graduation and even though they haven’t been able to properly secure an apartment yet, he knows he’s going to share a flat with Denki for a while, maybe even Sero if they can find one big enough. 

He knows what his future is going to be like, with or without you and he even knows who you are, because he’s too curious and too good at solving riddles for his own good. 

Shinsou halts, pen hovering over his skin. 

He knows that you like him. You’ve told him so, multiple times. 

But it’s different to like someone on the other end of a cosmic connection, not knowing what they look like or knowing their reputation. 

The bullying might have stopped, but the scars have not yet faded.

Somewhere in the hallway a door falls closed, the sound loud enough to make him flinch. 

The cold wetness of ink tells him that he moved too suddenly. Now there’s a smear of ink across his arm and he sighs. Well… he might as well commit to it, now that he started.

“I like you too,” he writes, in the direct way you said you liked about him, “And my name is Shinsou Hitoshi. I’m in your year but in Class 3A.”

His skin prickles, but there’s no immediate response.

He’s learned your schedule, more by following the notes you leave on your - and therefore his skin, and you should be free right now.

Every second that ticks by is torture. But he stares down at his skin and waits.

He’s not sure how long it takes you to answer. He’s too scared to look up from his skin and miss it to check his watch.

Someone knocks softly on his door.

“I’m busy,” he calls out, fully expecting Midoriya.

“How busy?” You ask back. 

His chair clatters to the ground as he rushes over.

You’re smiling at him when the door opens, a little out of breath maybe, fingers digging into the fabric of your uniform, fiddling with the hem of your blazer.

“Hi,” your smile turns mischievous. “Do you wanna go out?”

“With me?” He asks, like an idiot. But it’s hard to think with your eyes twinkling up at him like that. You might be related to Aoyama. 

“Who else?” You ask and stretch your hand out. 

Shinsou can see his name on your skin. Yeah, he thinks, who else?

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[theoldoor]

DR RATIO DAY

i hate mischaracterization of dr ratio bc as dr ratio #1 hater at least hate dr ratio FOR WHAT HE IS not for WHAT U THINK HE IS YOU AINT HATING ON THE SAME LEVEL AS I AM RAAGGGH IFUCKIGN HATE DR RATIO (more doodles below JUST BEAR WITH THE RAMBLINGS)

“he’s so mean as a teacher/egotistical/narcissism and shit” NOOO WHAT IF HE JUST HAD A LITTLE SUPERIORITY COMPLEX TO COVER FOR HIS INSECURITY OF NOT BEING RECOGNIZED BY NOUS NO MATTER HOW HARD HE WORKED?? WHAT IF HE’S A LITTLE GIFTED KID WHO SHINE WITH THE DESIRE TO BE SEEN?? WHAT IF HE WANTED THAT VALIDATION OF HIS GREATNESS BUT NEVER RECEIVED IT NO MATTER HOW HARDED HE WORKED AND HE NEVER HAD AN ANSWER FOR IT??? WHAT IF HE’S JUST AUTISTIC AND HIS FORWARDNESS IS SEEN AS ‘MEAN’??? hate dr ratio BUT HATE HIM RIGHT

i hate dr ratio

THEORY THING

i like to believe in the theory that dr ratio is the worm, despite it saying that the worm actually died. or at least, worm jr.

so maybe, dr ratio is the “second” worm, like the rerun. the second attempt to fuck around with nous because now it’s more convincing cuz he’s his attractive looking professor yk. second time’s the charm and aha never back down from a good laugh.

= veritas is also the roman goddess of truth, sometimes argued to be the creation of prometheus - the trickster who defied the other olympians and gave humanity (something seen as insignificant) fire (yk spreading knowledge, tech, civilization, etc)

= aha, is an aeon of trickery, a trickster, who gave unfathomable knowledge to a worm , something seen as insignificant.

= aha likes silly things, what gives a good laugh every now and then? Irony. What’s Ironic? someone who doesn’t take bullshit and silly things like dr ratio to be a follower of elation. someone whose name is “truth” but lies every time we’ve seen him.

—- If the theory is true

As any gifted kids do, they strive to be recognized, for their talents to be used and seen. But his purpose of being recognized by Nous failed, so what all his giftedness do? He can’t even turn back to Aha either, Aha discarded the worm the moment THEY found out that the worm failed to get recognized and left that poor thing to dead - the Aeon that created him for this sole purpose, discarded him.

So what? What does he have? What greatness he has if his duty can’t even be completed given his power? Other people has been recognized with less capabilities than him, yet he’s recognized by none of the Aeons. Imagine the insecurity and guilt that must’ve fell upon an overachiever like him.

To act with superiority, to pretend that you’re above others - to hide the fact that you’re actually achieving less than you actually supposed to. Dr Ratio… i hate you…

*funny thing: since the masked fools, followers of elation, was rejected by aventurine. do u think dr ratio is the second attempt in trying to get aventurine to join masked fools lol

OC TIME:

Dr ratio has a 3% completion rates on his course. I think people drop out pretty often and he would usually have empty classes. well not until fenrir came, we all know how desperate fenrir is for that validation and he never let a task be unfinished.

as harsh as dr ratio was and as unbearable it was for fenrir, he still showed up to every class, even if he doesn’t do well and if he overworked. but soon, they both caught on their unhealthy habits for one another and kinda got it shimmered down.

fenrir has hermia, his little sister with heavily implied ASD, he can pick out similar patterns with Dr Ratio and learn to deal with his little ‘tempter’ at times and Dr Ratio finds it easier to work with Fenrir (cuz the man is awfully patient) so they were a well off pair and fenrir became the second person who can hold a proper conversation with dr ratio.

(maybe aventurine knew how to deal with hermia because he dealt with dr ratio lol)

We cannot forget the vashrir content

Aventurine passes by his office sometimes, picking up a few papers to read for fun because he’s literally Fenrir’s research subject. i like to think that aventurine finds it funny in how analytical and structural fenrir was when it came to avgin-sigonian - he was writing a dissertation for it after all.

fenrir really remembered everything aventurine said, studying its phonology from the way aventurine spoke the words and recording them down even when aventurine wasn’t paying attention. such a silly freak lol.

topaz and fenrir coming tmr mayhaps AHAHA

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon &lt;3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[leonenjoyer69]

The sillies :3 and the both colored and not bc I really really like the sketch for this one :3 my old emo playlist has recently creeped back into my life and ofc Migraine by Tøp hits me with this wonderful idea. Also, fun fact, the physical drawing was originally just supposed to be a concept doodle that I was gonna redraw on a different paper but I uh, got carried away..

Anyways!!! Little info dump below the cut on the relationship between the 3 of them bc @dustmint asked about it and I thought I'd share my response here too, teehee

OKAY, SO, HOW JEKYLL AND HYDE ACT TOWARDS HARRY:

I do firmly believe that Hyde fights Harry more Aggressively and outright, on board to do whatever it takes to get rid of him (or at least out of control) , while Jekyll took a bit more convincing (mostly once he was done freaking out over the fact that he's a fraction of a person just like Hyde is). He definitely also hates Harry, but in a more subtle, silent way >:3 instead sorta challenging Harry mentally as opposed to physically, like Hyde wishes to. He's generally more observant and tries to strike when he thinks it best, sometimes his emotions get the best of him tho.

MORE IN DEPTH:

So, once they figure out what/who Harry is from his lil journals in the mind scape, Jekyll may or may not have an identity crisis (he definitely does) but once he kinda gets through that he just feels bad for Harry, being locked away in the mind scape so long and dealing with everything there and such. Plus, Harry is seemingly their whole parts (their previously whole parts, at the least), so Jekyll certainly doesn't want him to die or anything. Hyde doesn't really feel too strongly about him right off the bat, more so just annoyed that Harry took control and now he's stuck in the mind scape with Jekyll.

Though!! Things change once Harry kinda shows his resentment towards the two, saying that he wouldn't be letting them out anytime soon, and revealing how he plans to reverse the potion. This immediately sends Hyde into feral dog mode, trying to use literally everything he can to absolutely break Harry and gain control back. Jekyll is still a bit reluctant for a while, but eventually starts siding more with Hyde, plotting how to gain control back or take care of Harry without killing all of them, bc ofc they don't wanna die.

But yeah, between sending out nightmares, forcing the heart palpitations and such by fighting, or just being a general nuisance (most all of which are usually by Hyde) it's not really surprising that the resentment Harry already had towards them grows lmao.

He does eventually find out that those little phantom strings he can still see around his wrists and such can kinda be used to vaguely control/subdue his other halves. Yeah, he threatens them a lot.

Also!!! Jekyll and Hyde start getting along better, but definitely still bicker and shit occasionally (which tends to piss Harry off a bit, since he's been so fed up with their fighting and refusing to be one for so long, it just ticks him off very easily). Jekyll also feels really jealous of Harry bc of how he seems to be able to fix things so easily (and his blooming relationship with Lanyon ofc)

Anyways!! That's all I got for now lmao. Lots of character development for Harry lately. Man, I really need to start doing stuff with Elias again 💀

Oh also here's a colored version where they're not ghostly: