#wow I actually managed to draw something for once

[moonydasaltychild]

May I offer you a pocket size Lloyd

[4giorno]

so hard when you dont know if the drawing youre working on is a case of "trust the process and it will be great" or "just delete it and start over and itll be great on the next attempt"

[writa-anon]

"is that.. supposed to be me?"

francis mosses (the milkman) x artist!reader

a / n ~ boom! first fanfic :3 i was a little inspired by uh.. myself LOL when i started playing tnmn i realized i was horrible at memorizing faces so i started drawing the characters to help me remember and it works sooo much. but anyway, super cute oneshot where they first meet, hope u enjoy :D

content included ~ isaack mauss, francis mosses, reader is an artist and doorman, no pronouns mentioned for reader, use of (y/n), shy n wholesome first encounter

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 4.10.24 | 1.6k words

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Another slow day at work, huh?”

A enthusiatic-ridden voice boomed, instinctively making me look up to meet the gaze of a strong-jawlined man. I cleared my throat and placed my pencil on the scratchy sheet of paper, sitting up in my chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Gauss.” I greeted, grinning that customer-service smile.

“Good afternoon, (y/n). I assume work is treating you well?” He said before sliding both his ID and request form through the letter hole. “Only your third day and you’re occupying yourself with side hobbies!” He exclaimed, squinting a little to see my doodle through the glass screen. I chuckled a little as I examined his ID.

“Eh, yeah..” I sighed. “But this actually helps with my job, believe it or not!” I said proudly, pulling out the floor 2 folder to compare his ID number. “I’ve been drawing neighbors in order to remember their features better. It’s especially helpful because of my terrible memory.” I said, shaking my head. Isaack simply chuckled as I placed the folder to the side as I went through his request form.

“That’s pretty smart.” He commented. “Who have you drawn so far?” He asked, curiously tilting his head. As I went through the checklist as I idly thought to myself.

“Umm..” I hummed. “The Schmitts and the Mikaelys are definitely in here.” I finished up the last check before rolling back to my sketchbook, using my finger to thumb through the pages.

“Unfortunate. I haven’t been drawn yet.” He faked pouted. I rolled my eyes before flipping one or two pages before presenting the portrait to him.

“I’m not necessarily finish. Your face is pretty hard to encapture.” I sighed, looking at the smears of led blended together. Isaack was something of a character: a big prominent smile that is not hard to catch a glimpse of in a room full of people. His hair perfectly styled each morning that still manages to maintain its shape by the end of the day. His voice had depth to it, almost like he was born to be the daily news reporter for radios and TVs of all kind. He stared at the drawing in satisfied awe before leaning back.

“Wow, it surely is accurate!” He beamed. I smiled proudly before placing my sketchbook down.

“Thank you,” I politely nodded. I slid his ID back through the letter box. “Everything seems to be good to go. You’re allowed in, Mr. Gauss.” He nodded in his head in gratitude, but however, did not my window just yet. He took a minute to ponder, as if contemplating his next move, before beaming his teeth once again.

“Ah, before I go,” he quickly inputed. “is there by chance Francis Mosses is on today’s list? He’s the local milkman around here.”

I raised my eyebrow a little, not exactly sure as to why Isaack chose to bring up this person’s name. I shook my head gently before folding my arms in front of me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gauss, but I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information for you.”

“—Ah, of course.” Isaack quickly fixed himself, putting his hands up a little in defense. “I understand. I was just curious is all. I’m sure you know him though, no?” Thinking for a minute, I’ve realized that this is a neighbor I have not encountered yet.

“No, actually..” I pondered out loud. “Huh, that’s interesting. I guess he works a morning or night shift because the name doesn’t really ring a bell.” I noted out loud.

“Interesting.” He muttered. “Well, keep the name in mind. He’s a rather interesting person, and I think you would find him just as interesting.” Before I could say anything else, he gestured a quick wink before walking through the unlocked door. I quickly snapped out my thoughts before locking the door back up again.

Isaack never really mentioned other names— it wasn’t necessarily out of character, but it felt a little outlandish. I looked down to see my pencil in hand again and blank surface of paper. My eyes trailed over to the paper taped on to the wall next to my window, realizing that Frances was in fact on today’s check-in list. Out of curiousity, I located his room number before surfing through the folders. After locating folder 3 and apartment 02, I was able to find more about him.

He was a slim, tall man with a crooked nose and ruffled brown hair. His eye bags were prominent from what I assume to be lack of sleep. As I stared at his picture, my hand moved by itself across my sketchbook, forming a circle to start defining out the headshape. I squinted slightly, trying to feel for each detail in his face. From the way his eyebrows were rotated a little outward, defining more of his tired expression, to the bump in his nose bridge, making it a bit more interesting to draw. It was mesmerizing, almost wishing I could sit here and draw his face in perso—

tap, tap!

I nearly jumped out of my seat. The pencil flung out of my hand, rolling off of the desk. My eyes flickered up—

and there he was.

My breath near caught in my throat as I stared up in shock. The man behind the glass was barely shocked to see my reaction. His white “milkman” hat rested perfectly on top of his brown hair with small curls slightly peaking out. I was swift to regain my composure in my head as I folded my hands in front of me with my legs crossed under the desk.

“Good afternoon, sir.” I smiled. “I haven’t seen you before. ID and entry request?”

He let out a small hum, barricaded by his pink lips, as he took out his paper and ID. He politely slid them through the letter slot before I took the items to examine.

“Mr. Francis Mosses.. Lives on floor 03.. Room 02.. Coming from work as a milkman.” I glanced up to look at him, comparing the photo ID to his face. His expression was exactly alike: tired eyes, slight frown on the lips, crooked nose, and a clean shaven face. I double checked with his file already on my desk, making sure that the ID numbers and the description aligned with his ID. “Everything looks good.” I confirmed as I slid his ID back to him.

“Mmm.. Thank you.” He hummed. I turned around to place his request form in a folder, but once I sat back up, I realized he was still standing at the window, curiously staring through the glass. I raised my eyebrow a little, confused as to why he was still lingering.

“I’m sorry, did I forget something?” I asked. Francis shook his head before pointing down at my desk.

“Is that.. Supposed to be me?” He asked. A tiny bit of emotion seeped into his voice, dripping in interest and curiousity.

“I— oh—” I looked down to see the rough drawing of Francis sitting at my desk, drawn with sketch lines still lightly defining his features, while the harder drawn areas sculpted his prominent details. “Yeah..” I mumbled. “I-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable!” I exclaimed. “It’s just a way to help me remember faces and I was going through the files and I realized I haven’t met you before so I—”

“You make me look so pretty.” He mumbled, almost breathlessly. A faint pink color brushed his cheeks as he was unable to take his gaze away from the paper.

“W-Well.. I do aim for accuracy.” I chuckled, complimenting the man right back. My nerves had calmed down after noticing his calm demeanor. “You could keep it, if you’d like that is.” I offered. It would be awkward if I kept the drawing rather than give it to him— I mean— this is his first time ever seeing me and it was an awkward first interaction right off the bat. It was the least I could do for him. Francis nodded his head and in response, I tore the piece of paper out of the scrapbook before sliding it through the letter slot.

“There you go.” I smiled.

“Thank you..” He replied, graciously taking the piece of paper and admiring it once again. “Oh— um,” He quickly looked up to me. “What is your name? I’m sorry, I’m not really good with.. Introductions.” He trailed off, but something about his shyness and reluctant voice made me grin even harder.

“My name is (y/n). I’m the doorman in training for this building.” I greeted.

“Ah, of course. I’m Francis— Mmm..Though you already know that.” He said, shaking his head a little by the end of his sentence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Francis. I’ll be seeing you around, I assume?” I said, sitting at the edge of my chair as I looked up at him.

“More often than before.” He smiled. It was the widest he’d grin throughout our whole conversation. Something inside me told me that he doesn’t pass around smiles like that easily. It made me feel accomplished in some sort of way. But with that, he departed from my window. I made sure to unlock the door and listen for the door closing behind him before locking it again.

Francis Mosses.

I think I have someone to look forward to on tomorrow’s entry list.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

really hoped you enjoyed! replies, reblogs, and even likes are super appreciated! thank you so much for reading :]

[waitimcomingtoo]

Come Morning Light

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta spend a lazy day together, baking bread and drawing. takes place after first games before cf

After learning from Effie that you had a rare day off, you made your way over to Peeta’s house in the Victors Village. Things had been weird between you since returning from the games and you wanted a chance to spend some time with him to settle things. You knocked on his door and when you found it open, you made your way inside.

“Oh. Hey.” He smiled when you found him in his kitchen.

“Hey. Did I hear correctly that we actually have the day off?”

“We do. And Effie made it very clear we’re not getting another one anytime soon. So we better enjoy it.”

“How are you gonna spend it?” You asked as you leaned against his kitchen table.

“I’m just gonna bake some bread and watch the rain. All boring stuff.” Peeta said with a soft smile. Peeta thought you would leave after that, but you didn’t budge.

“Why? What were you gonna do?” He asked curiously.

“Bother you.” You shrugged with a coy smile. Peeta returned the smile when he realized you wanted to hang out but didn’t know how to ask.

“Impossible. You never bother me.” He declared.

“Never? Even after all the times I’ve woken you up screaming?”

“No. Because when I hear screaming, I know that means I get to hold you. So no, you’re never a bother.” Peeta said as if it were the most simple thing in the world. You looked down to hide the smile that he always managed to put on your face. He could never know how much you missed that reassurance that he would always be there for you when you had your nightmares.

“You know, Haymitch once told me I could live a thousand lives and never deserve you.” You told him.

“Oh, did he?” Peeta smirked and folded his arms.

“I think it may have been one of the rare times he was right about something.” You said playfully. Peeta felt ecstatic to hear you say this, but played it cool.

“Well. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” He replied. You smiled at him before going over to where he had his baking supplies set up.

“So what kind of bread are we making today?” You asked as you picked up his apron. He playfully snatched it from you and tied it around it waist. You pretended to be offended for a second, but he was quick to provide you with a matching apron. You didn’t know why he had two if he lived alone, but you didn’t question it. You just held out hope that maybe it was for you.

“I’m making challah bread. You can just sit there and look pretty.” Peeta nodded towards his kitchen table as he tied your apron around your waist.

“Peeta, I won the Hunger Games with nothing but a bow and some berries. What makes you think I can’t make bread?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I know you can’t make bread.” He insisted. “And I know that because before you win the game, you fed me disgusting soup.”

“You said you liked my cave soup.” You gasped.

“I was trying to spare your feelings.” He said with a cheeky smile. You pretended to be offended again and threw some flour at his face.

“Wow, Peeta. Next time you get injured, don’t come to me for help.”

“Well I definitely won’t come to you for food.” He said out of the corner of his mouth. You gasped and tried to throw more flour at him but he caught your wrist and spun you around. You smiled at the gesture before playfully shoving him away.

“Please let me help. I’ll do better then the cave soup. I promise.”

“Fine. You can mix this.” Peeta said as he poured two cups of something into a mixing bowl and handed it to you. You smiled proudly and mixed the contents of the bowl with a wooden spatula.

“Is this important? Am I being helpful?” You asked as you mixed.

“No. That was just two cups of flour. You didn’t actually mix anything.” Peeta admitted. You looked up at him in surprise and he was armed and ready with a handful of flour. He tossed it at your face and laughed as you coughed.

“Peeta. Let me help.” You whined as you cleaned your face.

“Just leave the baking to the baker, all right? I don’t show up in the woods and try to hunt.” He teased as he folded some eggs into his dough.

You watched him expertly mix the dough until a light and fluffy consistency was left in the bowl. You couldn’t help but admire the way he worked, moving as if with muscle memory. To get a better look, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder. Peeta stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into you.

“There’s no cameras in here, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” He said quietly. You were surprised by this comment and pressed your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not pretending anything.” You told him. “I just wanted to hold you.”

“So you’re not acting? You really want to help me bake bread?” Peeta asked skeptically as he turned around in your arms. You toyed with the strings of his apron for a second before looking up into his eyes.

“I really do.” You answered honestly. “We never get to do anything normal together. I just wanted one day where we can just be us.”

Peeta stared into your eyes for a while as he tried to decide whether he should believe you or not. He so badly wanted to, but could never fully let his guard down around you after you revealed the way you acted in the first games was partially an act.

“Okay. Come here. We have to knead the bread.” Peeta said once he decided he was satisfied with your answer. He pulled you by the hand and placed you in front of him before wrapping both arms around you.

“Oh no.” You chuckled dryly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Oh yes. I’m a romantic. This is how we teach.” Peeta said as he put his hands over yours and began to knead the bread. You had seen this scene play out in old romantic movies that sometimes played on your TV and you knew Peeta must’ve seen them too. It was stupid, but it made you feel good inside.

“Do you teach everyone to knead bread like this?” You looked over your shoulder to question him.

“I don’t exactly go around teaching people how to make bread.” Peeta chuckled.

“Oh. I must be special then.” You smiled coyly and made eye contact with him over your shoulder. He was so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck and it sent tingles down your spine.

“Must be.” Peeta mumbled in your ear. You gulped and felt your face heat up, feeling grateful Peeta was behind you so he couldn’t see what he was doing to you. He continued to use his strong hands to make yours knead the bread.

“I hate the way this feels.” You said to break the silence.

“Then you’re gonna hate to hear that we have to do this for at least ten minutes.” Peeta laughed as you groaned.

“Peeta.” You whined but didn’t try to stop.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay and make bread. You could’ve run off into the forest to hunt with Gale, but you chose to spend your day off with me.” He reminded you.

“You’re right. I did.” You agreed with him as you squished the bread between your fingers.

“Where is Gale, anyway?” Peeta asked, and you could tell his intentions no matter how cool he tried to play it. He wanted to know if you were only with him today because Gale was busy.

“Probably at the Hob or something.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

“You don’t know where he is? Aren’t you guys always together?”

“Not always. I’m with you.” You said and looked over your shoulder at him. Peeta smiled timidly as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re with me?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I’m with you.” You smiled at him before returned your attention to the bread.

“I can’t help but wonder for how long.” Peeta said softly. There was no self-pity in his voice, just an honest expression. You stared into the dough and felt guilty pile up in your stomach.

“I know it’s confusing. I know I’m confusing. I wish I had more answers to give you.” You said quietly without looking at him.

“It’s okay. I’m happy just doing this.” Peeta answered honestly.

“So am I.” You realized and leaned back into him.

You continued to knead the bread in comfortable silence as a gentle rain patter hit the windows. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt peace like this, peace only Peeta could give you.

“Is it done yet because it’s seriously grossing me out.” You said after a minute of the silence.

“It’s done.” Peeta chuckled. “You’re free.”

You slipped your hands out of his and quickly ran to the sink to rinse them.

“Ew, ew, ew.” You grimaced as you cleaned your hands. “That was grosser than when I had to clean out your leg wound.”

“Really? This is more disgusting than that?” Peeta laughed in surprise.

“Yes. I don’t know how you do it.” You stuck your tongue out as you dried your hands.

“I’m a baker. It’s my passion. I don’t know how you skin animals and don’t throw up.” Peeta remarked as he tossed the dough around a little and worked his hands into it. You shamelessly watched him do this for a second before snapping out of it.

“I’m a hunter. It’s my passion.” You humored him. Peeta looked at you fondly as he let out a laugh.

“You’re funny when you want to be.” He remarked as he put the loaf in the oven.

“Not you, though. You’re always funny. Even in the most life threatening situations, you’ve still made me laugh. And nobody can make me laugh.”

“I’ve noticed that. That nobody else can do it. Maybe that’s why I try so hard to be the one who can.” He admitted as he stared at you with that ever present fondness.

“Well it works.” You shrugged and held his gaze. You stared at each other for a moment before looking away in embarrassment.

“So how long does that bake for?” You asked him.

“30 minutes. Then we test it to see if it’s risen.”

“Hm. What should we do for the next 30 minutes?”

“Actually, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” Peeta said with a timid smile.

“Uh oh. What’s that?” You asked coyly.

“Draw you. If that’s okay.”

“Haven’t you drawn me before?” You asked, knowing you’d caught glimpses of his sketches every now and then.

“Yes. But they’re all side profiles because I draw you when you aren’t looking. I want one of you facing front.”

“Okay.” You agreed as your face heated up from the request. Peeta grinned and went to grab his sketchbook as you sat on his couch. You felt the almost untouched furniture and felt sad that he lived in this great big house all by himself. When he came back, he positioned himself across from you and looked up eagerly.

“How should I pose?” You asked and raised your arms in a dramatic way you’d seen people in The Capital pose.

“Just relax. Sit how you would normally sit.” Peeta chuckled and began to sketch out your face.

“Well I don’t remember how to do that anymore.” You realized as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

“Then just pick a way to sit and stay like that.” Peeta laughed again. You obliged and relaxed into his couch as you stared at him. He sketched the outline of your head while you studied his face closely. The sun was beginning to dim below the horizon, making Peeta’s foyer his favorite color, a soft orange. The way the light hit him made his blonde hair and eyelashes appear golden.

“Your eyelashes are so blond.” You commented without thinking.

“What?” Peeta looked up as his entire face turned red.

“I’ve never noticed that before. They’re so blond and shiny. They look almost golden from here. Like Effie’s hair.”

“This place gets really good lighting. It’s a shame I’m the only one who knows that.” Peeta said with a sad smile.

“Now you’re one of two who knows.” You replied, making his smile go from sad to lovelorn.

“That’s true.” He said softly. You exchanged a smile before he went back to drawing you. You felt like you were spying on him from his closely you were watching him but you never got to see him this peaceful. You studied the way his hands moved around his sketchbook and admired how they somehow knew exactly where to go.

“What are you staring at?” Peeta asked, catching you in the act. You gulped and knew you were caught, so you just came clean.

“Your hands.” You admitted and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Why?” He asked, face still in a rose blush.

“I can’t talk. I’m posing.” You said in an attempt to change the subject with a joke.

“You’re all done posing, actually. Come take a look.” Peeta said. You got up from your couch and leaned over him to look at what he had drawn. On his sketch pad was a perfect little charcoal drawing of you. You hadn’t posed for him yet he managed to perfectly capture your most neutral expression. You knew he most likely drew it from memory since you were definitely no help while posing.

“Peeta. That’s beautiful.” You gasped and looked into his eyes. Peeta looked up at you as you leaned over him and blinked slowly.

“Yeah. You are.” He spoke softly. You looked into Peeta’s eyes before letting your gaze drop down to his lips. Before you could psych yourself out, you leaned down to kiss him. Your lips had merely brushed his when the timer went off, making you jump at the sound.

“The bread is-“

Peeta cut your sentence off by tilting his chin the rest of the way up to kiss you. He sat up on his knees and slipped a hand behind your head to properly kiss you as the timer continued to go off in the background. When he pulled away, you were left breathless while he moved some hair off your forehead.

“Sorry. I wasn’t about to miss out on that kiss for bread.” Peeta smirked as he got off the couch. You watched him walk back into the kitchen and touched your fingertips to your lips. You were still buzzing from the kiss as you walked into the kitchen.

“It smells amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” You smiled politely while Peeta took the bread out of the oven. Once it cooled, you took a knife and went to cut into it.

“Woah woah, what are you doing?” Peeta stopped you.

“Cutting the bread?”

“You can’t just hack into it. There is an art to cutting bread, my dear. Here. Let me show you.” Peeta said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind again.

“Oh boy. Here we go.” You playfully rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

“It’s like this. Yeah?” He said into your ear. You stayed silent as you watched his hands work over yours to cut the bread into perfect diagonal slices.

“You staring at my hands again?” He asked suddenly, making you freeze.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He chuckled softly in your ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just like them and can’t really explain why.”

“I know the feeling.” He whispered in your ear after a beat of silence. Peeta let go of one of your hands and used it to touch your side braid.

“Your braid is on a different side today.”

“Oh. Yeah. It is.” You gulped as he toyed with the end of your braid. His hand moved to your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the side of your neck that your braid wasn’t on. It sent shivers down your spine and you didn’t want him to stop.

“I like it.” He whispered against your skin and placed another kiss on your neck.

“You noticed that it was different?” You asked as you turned around in his arms.

“I notice everything about you.” Peeta said simply. You looked into his eyes and smiled before taking hand hand. You brought two prices of bread over to his front door and opened it. You sat across from each other and watched the late afternoon rain that drizzled through the dimming sunshine. You bit into the warm bread and listened the rain falling while Peeta just watched you. When you noticed him staring, you gave him a pointed look and nudged his shoe with your foot.

“You know, Effie told me there’s a stove on the train.” You told him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you can show me how to make cake tomorrow?” You asked, making Peeta’s smile grow.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Anything you want.”

[oddheadd]

Frostbite °• : ⁠｡ - Chapter II

Wendigo/Skinwalker x Reader

CW: Gore, animal deaths. The religion is made up and in no way do I intent to offend anyone, please don't read if such subjects trigger you.

I stare at my laptop screen, wanting to bang my head against the wall as I observe the blank page.

Yesterday I actually managed to fall asleep. The tapping didn't continue, but that's probably more disturbing. I would've brushed it off as the quirk of the cabin, but it was so random.

I sigh and close the laptop, lazily lifting myself off the couch and deciding to make myself another cup of coffee. I go outside and sit on the porch, drinking the steaming, bitter liquid. I watch the forest and I feel it drawing me in.

I keep watching the hypnotizing sway of the trees with the gentle wind, before I bring the now empty cup into the house and head out again, walking straight into the forest.

I wonder if it's still there.

As a child, I'd always wander into the forest, making mud pies, finding big sticks and hopefully searching for the animals. In my child, naive mind I thought I'd hop on their backs and they'd take me away into the wonderland.

Then I saw it... Not a cute, big eyed, furry animal, but the monstrously enormous monastery. What once used to be a praying space was then broken down and abandoned. And despite my fear, I went in.

The walls were painted with blood, carcasses of small animals hung loosely from the ceiling... In the very edge of the room, what I assume a recently killed deer was hung on the wall, its body was cut from it's neck to it's stomach, as if showing off it's insides.

I ran home crying and mom never brought me here after that. I assume it was something ritualistic. I shouldn't have wondered into the 17-19th century broken down catholic church anyways.

I sigh and kick around in the snow.

Looking down I see something. I furrow my brows and lean down, looking at what I assume is a deer footprint.

Then I hear shuffling behind me. I immediately turn around and-

"Oh, hi..." - A man waves at me awkwardly. He has dark hair with a matching pair of almond shaped eyes. Lashes, longer than my own rest on his eyelids under his thick brows. His hair is a little overgrown and he has a bit of stubble. He's wearing warm clothes and there's a hunting rifle in his left hand.

"Ah- You scared me." - I chuckle sheepishly.

"Sorry." - He smiles. - "What are you doing here?"

"...Taking a walk, I guess?"

"All alone? These woods are dangerous." - He furrows his brows a little.

"Really? I used to play in here all the time when I was a child..."

"You live here?" - He tilts his head and rests the rifle on the snowy ground.

"Not really, me and my family used to come here in summer. Now I'm here to uh, work, I guess?"

He smiles again. - "I just moved a few months ago."

I eye his rifle. - "You like hunting?"

"I hunt for food." - He corrects me. He then gives me his free hand to shake, and I do so. - "...Nathan."

"Y/N. You said the forest is dangerous? I've only seen deer so far..."

"Wolves." - He answers Shortly. - "But yes, there are lots of deer in here. Check this out," - He comes closer and leans down, pointing at the footprints I was observing before. - "I've never seen a footprint of a deer that big. If I manage to catch it, I won't have to hunt for a few weeks, maybe even a month. I swear to God I've been trying to hunt it down for days." - He sighs.

"Oh wow." - I tilt my head. - "Hunting seems intense."

"It's not as hard if you know the basics. Just long... And I'm impatient." - He chuckles. - "I could show you."

He looks at me with a smile and I find it hard to decline his offer. I smile back and nod.

We walk for a while, getting to know each other. He then lays down behind a fallen log and motions for me to do the same. We wait for a while and then two deer walk into our view. Nathan looks at me and brings his finger to his lips to hush me.

It all happens fast, there's a bang and the deer falls as the other runs away. Nathan gets up and approaches it. "You gotta be humane when you kill them, try aiming where it would have vital organs so it dies fast."

I hesitantly follow him. I look at the deers hooves and only then do I realize the huge difference between these and the footprints I saw earlier. The footprints were three, if not four times bigger.

I start to get bad vibes from this. - "...Have you seen big deer before?"

Nathan looks at me with a puzzled expression. - "Huh?"

"You said the footprints we saw earlier were big." - I say and sit on the nearby rock. - "You see them often?"

"...Not really."

"That's... Disturbing." - I sneer.

Nathan grins. - "Why, you worried for me?"

I snort. - "No, I'm worried for myself. I live on the edge of the forest." - I joke and he chuckles.

"It's totally a deer, I'm sure nothing to worry about." - He shrugs and starts tying the rope around the dead animal. - "If you're too worried, though..."

He stands up straight and approaches me, placing his hands on the rock, trapping me in-between. - "I could give you my number."

I chuckle and he backs up. - "The service is shitty but we can text. I don't like calls anyways."

"Okay." - I grin and he smiles. I write my number in my notepad, tearing the paper out and giving it to him after.

"You should go now, it's getting dark. Want me to walk you?"

I shrug. - "Nope. Just lead me towards the main path and I'll return myself." - I instruct him.

The walk home isn't too long, and I find myself attracted to the man as he waves at me. I walk into the cabin and sigh, happy to be embraced by warmth.

Then the deer footprints float up into my mind and I feel uneasy. How can Nathan be so calm? The deer is probably humongous, why? Is it a type of anomaly?

My worries wash away as my phone buzzes and I see a text from an unknown number.

"So you live on the edge of the forest? If you see a seven foot deer, text me asap ;P"

[darkchocolatedimples]

the tortured poets department (sponsored by my procrastination)

excuse my essays for each song the lyrics are so interesting to me so there’s like actual analyzation for each one.

fortnight - dex

that lingering resentment disguised by surface level friendship is that not literally him and sophie come on. “run into you sometimes, ask about the weather” the awkwardness!! “your wife waters flowers, i want to kill her” he was the #1 fitz hater for multiple reasons after all (although i think he was over it by the time keefe became prominent)

the tortured poets department - sophie

this is so keefe from her perspective come on “you’re in self sabatoge mode, throwing spikes down the road, but i’ve seen this episode and still love the show” “i chose this cyclone with you” “sometimes i wonder if you’re gonna screw this up with me. but you told [biana] that you’d kill yourself if i ever leave. and i had said that to [dex] about you so i felt seen. everyone we know understands why we’re meant to be.” also let’s be so real keefes drawing journals + goodbye letters, he’s giving tortured poet

my boy only breaks his favorite toys - fitz

guys he’s just a silly little boy with anger issues, and he’s MY silly little boy with anger issues stop hating him 😞 “the voices in his head called the rain to end our days of wild” “he saw forever so he smashed it up” he may have fucked up but it happens!!

down bad - dex

CUZ FUCK IT HE WAS IN LOVE!!! also if i may present to you: “i might just die it would make no difference” in the context that outside of sophie saw no purpose to his own life. he saw himself just as he is presented in the books: as her best friend and nothing more. so in losing that (blaming himself and his own feelings for it) what was left of him? who was left? sophie was also his ONLY friend. not to mention in the context of the fact that when he WAS presumed dead nobody cared, they still cared more about sophie.

so long, london - keefe

no not bc of london actually but because “and you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment” is actually a direct reference to keefitz’ friendship falling apart as fitz got angrier and keefe got more closed off. “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?” “im just mad as hell cause i loved this place” me when everglen is no longer keefes safehaven. nor anyone’s for that matter bc its haunted by alvars betrayal and alden’s mind break and fitz’ anger.

but daddy i love him - biana

“i just learned these people only raise you to cage you” “i just learned these people try and save you…cause they hate you” “dutiful daughter all my plans were laid…growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.” i hate alden vacker. how do u manage to use and fuck up all ur kids by age 12 like wow. “i’ll tell you something about my good name: it’s mine alone to disgrace” she would 100% say this. she would also 100% say “im having his baby! no im not but you should see your faces.”

fresh out the slammer - keefe

sokeefe or keefitz take it as it comes. “in the shade of how he was feeling.” “as i said in my letters.” “my friends try, but i wouldn’t hear it…for just one glimpse of his smile” “swirled you into all of my poems” it’s so him it is truly.

florida!!! - keefe

THIS one’s about london! “well me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time! yes i’m haunted but im feeling just fine” ethan and eleanor wright who?? “your home’s really only a town you’re just a guest in” candle shade/shores of solace type beat “i need to forget so take me to [london], i have some regrets i’ll bury them in [london]” “i don’t want to exist so take me to [london]” aw bae

guilty as sin? - dex

i don’t know how to explain but i just feel like this feeling of i shouldn’t be doing/feeling this the literal guilt and all these delusions and the sheer intensity of it all is just giving me dex. “this cage was once just fine, am i allowed to cry? i dream of cracking locks, throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks” “i keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault” this must be the way he loves if he thinks so little of himself and doesn’t let himself have good things. “i choose you and me religiously” because at the end of the day when he makes a decision or chooses something or someone he puts his all into it.

who’s afraid of little old me - sophie

“you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. you caged me then you called me crazy. i am what i am cuz you trained me.” all of it’s literally giving her growing into herself in stellarlune and making decisions on her own. SHE IS NOT A PAWN!!!

i can fix him (no really i can) - tam

idk its just giving him defending rayni with his life when everyone else including linh was like who tf is this girl.

loml - fitz

every sad pining song is fitz vacker to me. esp the refrences to the romance being dead but never buried... "still alive killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried...i'm your holy ghost" the way that sophie switched up on him in stellarlune (although i fully support her) didn't give him much time to recover. "are they second-hand embarrased that i can't get out of bed because something counterfiet's dead" give me heartbroken fitz!!! for once instead of angry fitz just give me tired, resigned fitz. "it was legendary, it was momentary, it was unecessary, should've let it stayed buried" is such a good summary of sophitz imo.

i can do it with a broken heart - linh

linh is so interesting to me as a parallel of fitz: meaning she, just like him, is always angry. however she masks it in smiles and kindness the way he never learned to, he just lashes out. this song feels like it’s talking about that mask: “i’m so depressed i act like it’s my birthday everyday” “i can read your mind ‘she’s having the time of her life’ …i can show you lies” “cause im miserable and nobody even knows” “i can hold my breath, i’ve been doing it since [i] left”

the smallest man who ever lived - keefe

it’s giving a letter to cassius/gisela/alvar. “and i don’t even want you back, i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal. and i don’t miss what we had” “did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?” “in 50 years will all this be declassified and you’ll confess why you did it, and i’ll say ‘good riddance’” “i would’ve died for your sins instead i just died inside. and you deserve prison but you won’t get time” “in plain sight you hid, but you are what you did. and i’ll forget you but i’ll never forgive.”

the alchemy - sophie

“cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?” aw sokeefe.

clara bow - biana

BIANA BEING COMPARED TO HER BROTHERS AND ALL THE VACKERS BEFORE THEM "the crown is stained but you're the real queen" "beauty is a beast that roars, down on all fours, demanding more...its hell on earth to be heavenly" i love her.

the black dog - fitz

bring back petty fitz!! i think the young girl not knowing the starting line could parallel with keefe not being able to understand things about telepathy that really connected fitz and sophie. i also think we could shift the angle and make it about alvars betrayal and how it sparked his angry trauma response. “you said i needed a brave man, then proceeded to play him until i believed it too.” “now i want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes…even if i die screaming, and i hope you hear it.”

imgonnagetyouback - fitz

he is 100% this delusional. he's just like me. "you'll find that you were never not mine" "even if its handcuffed im leaving here with you." "told my friends i hate you but i love you just the same, pick your poison babe, i'm poison either way"

the albatross - keefe

“one bad seed kills the garden. one less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen.” “the devil that you know looks now more like an angel. i’m the life you chose, and all this terrible danger.” HE IS THE ALBATROSS. i can’t wait for the movie i want edits of him to this. ACTUALLY I WANT A LOT OF THINGS maybe I’ll make a separate post about that.

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - keefe

you saw it coming. this song SCREAMS KEEFITZ. like- “you said some things that i can’t unabsorb…you needed me but you needed drugs more.” “changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules all to outrun my desertion of you.” “if you want to break my cold cold heart just say ‘i loved you the way that you were’” WHAT THE HECK DUDE IM SOBBING “back to the moment i crashed into you like so many wrecks do” that line solidified this as keefe’s pov for me. in conclusion. SOBBING.

how did it end - biana

i propose to you: not a relationship, but the vacker family falling apart and the way they became a huge subject of gossip in the lost cities. when alden’s mind broke, while fitz had turned to anger biana became depressed, and i think this song could relate to that as well. the whole part of “guess who we ran into at the shops” feels very much like conversations others would have about the vackers at the time and when alvar betrayed them. “soon they’ll go home to their [brothers], smug cause they know they can trust him.” and i think at the end of the day when all of it happened biana was just young and betrayed and lost, because she didn’t see it coming or understand why (who did?) “the deflation of our dreaming, leaving me bereft and reeling” “i can’t pretend like i understand, how did it end?”

so high school - biana

HER VIBES ALL THE WAY she’s so cute and lovely and i want this for her (and dex. specifically dex. not anyone else.)

i hate here - sophie

was leaning dex until “you see i was a debutant in another life but now i seem to be scared of going outside” but the whole idea of escapism applies to both of them. especially to sophie though when she lived with humans and was so alone because even her own family couldn’t understand her, and she canonically is a bookworm and probably found more comfort in those other lives than she ever could in her own. "I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind...i read about it in a book when I was a precious child" "ill get lost on purpose, this place made me feel worthless"

thanK you aIMee - tam

aimee 🤝🏽 the song parents. “everyone knows that my [sister] is a saintly woman. but she used to say she wished that you were dead.” “but when i count the scars there’s a moment of truth: that there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you.” thank you song parents 🫶🏽

i look in people’s windows - fitz

i thought this song sounded so creepy till I actually listened to it and now the idea of like lowkey stalking someone just to see if they still care about you or have moved on is slightly making sense. "does it feel alright to not know me? i'm addicted to the if only." it's giving keefitz (when isn't it?)

the prophecy - dex

"let it once be me, who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?" THIS JUST REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF THE BEGINNING OF STELLARLUNE WHEN HES LITERALLY MOURNING WHAT HASN'T EVEN HAPPENED TO HIS BROTHER YET i need more dex being the oldest sibling and shouldering that burden. the love-hate relationship with his siblings while simultaneously trying to make their quality of life so much better than what he had. also "a lesser woman would've lost hope, a greater woman wouldn't beg" is so him. he is so that middle.

cassandra - tam

"so they killed cassandra first cuz she feared the worst...do you believe me now?" "you can mark my words, i said it first. in a mourning warning, no one heard." tam when keefe joined the neverseen fr

peter - keefe

pls tell me you saw this one coming. "are you still a mindreader? a natural scene stealer, I've heard great things [fitz], but life was always easier on you than it was on me." "promises, oceans deep, but never to keep" "forgive me [fitz], my lost fearless leader...from when we were just kids. is it something I did?" i think I'm just in a constant state of mourning their friendship.

the bolter - keefe

obvious reasons but also "i can confirm she made a curious child, ever reviled by everyone but her own father." "hearts are hers for the breaking, there's escape in escaping." "she's got the best stories, you can be sure, as she was leaving, it feels like freedom."

robin - dex

had to do some research for this one but apparently its talking about preserving a child's innocence! for this reason it reminds me again of dex and his siblings because of the way he really wants to protect them from things that haven't happened yet (especially considering rex being talentless). "way to go tiger" definitely sounds like something he would say to them feeling all sentimental but then, knowing siblings, they'd probably grill him about why he's being nice 💀

the manuscript -

we know the drill by now, fitz gets all the breakup songs because they could be about sophie OR keefe. "afterwords, she only ate kid's cereal, and slept in her mother's bed" while the song is discussing reverting back to childhood habits in vulnerability, fitz's vulnerability made him angry (but it was still a big change from his regular self) "looking back might be the only way to move forward" I hope he does get to move on!!! im tired of the love triangle plot if we're not gonna focus on keefitz' friendship 😭

[turbobyakuren]

Today, on the 26th of June, is the... Wow. 10th birthday of my OC project, MagiMonsters!

ONCE AGAIN I have unfortunately prepared nothing this year for this event, despite hitting a milestone. I tend to be very busy and tired these days, and I've never been one for planning, except one time in october last year. The drawing fever came back, though, and that's a good thing! And now that my studies are finally over and that I have more time for myself (workdays notwithstanding), the motivation to make more MagiMonsters drawings, designs, stories, etc. has come back! For now, most of these is treasured inside my brain. I want to tell those stories a lot, but it's an effort I haven't managed to channel into something concrete as of yet. Like I said, I've never been one for planning.

So instead, to celebrate nonetheless, I've made a little compilation of most of the Yuzuki Drawings I've done over the past 10 years, from 2015 to 2024. Yuzuki is the de facto poster girl of MagiMonsters (although the actual mascot is Moriko), so she is representative of my evolution as an artist, both writing- and drawing-wise. This OC project was the main force behind my desire to learn how to draw, and I'm very happy that, after around 10 years of work, I have achieved a style I am comfortable with. It's truly great to sit down and think, "Wow, this is what I had in mind!".

To conclude, I want to thank all the friends, all the people who support me, are interested in my little creations, are willing to lend an ear to what I have in mind, and help me with this project or just wanna say they like what I do with it. I also want to thank all my artist friends for inspiring me through their art and for drawing art of my OCs whenever they can. It truly means a lot to me, and it encourages me to push myself even further and experiment new things. I hope I can finally start producing something that showcases my stories and my little universe of magical monster girls. Yahoo!

[ghosttotheparty]

For the dialogue prompts: Steddie + 24. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “Probably not.”

i did another one-shot with this prompt here as well :) (this is a no upside down au/high school au; eddie is a senior (his first senior year) and steve is a junior) {part 2 // part 3} cw: substance use; weed; very brief reference to child neglect & alcoholism; little bit of internalised homophobia

It's not often Eddie sees Steve Harrington in detention. Not often meaning never. He's out of place here, sitting at a creaky desk with Eddie and the others, in his pristine polo and shiny hair.

Eddie stares at him for a moment when he walks in, hovering in the doorway and eyeing Steve's posture. He's slouched in his seat, arms crossed, almost brooding, and Eddie feels rabid as Steve meets his eyes and cocks an eyebrow. But he behaves (for once).

He sits next to him, scooting his chair a little too close as he whispers, "What'd you do?"

"Nothing," Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins.

---

Steve's never actually talked with Eddie Munson. But that doesn't stop him from looking at him. He sees him in the hallways all the time, sees his hair that's almost at his shoulders, long and frizzy in a way that would be curly if Eddie took proper care of it. He sees him make faces at people, sees him draw in his notebook, and Steve is fascinated.

Eddie smiles like he's feral, all wide-eyed and shining, and Steve loves his smile, even if he doesn't admit it to himself. It's an exciting smile.

Somehow even though they've never spoken, Eddie seems perfectly comfortable sitting next to him (right next to him; maybe a little too close, but Steve isn't complaining) and talking to him.

"No, seriously," Eddie says. "What'd you do?"

Steve sighs, letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling.

"Uh." He keeps his voice quiet. There are other kids in the room, but none of them seem to care very much about the two of them. They're all sitting with their heads down on their desks, probably asleep. "I might have cussed out a teacher."

Eddie's eyes become even wilder, and his grin broadens, and Steve can't help but smile with him, his face flushing as Eddie knocks their shoulders together.

"You are so much cooler than I thought you were."

"Wow."

"Who was it?"

"Fisher."

"What'd he do?"

"Uh," Steve sighs again. "He, like, scolded me for not paying attention because I couldn't follow along, and I kind of just... snapped. Said he's a shitty teacher and maybe I'd be able to follow along if he wasn't so fucking boring."

"Steve Harrington. You're my hero."

Steve laughs. He hasn't laughed all day, but Eddie fucking Munson manages to get him to giggle, and then his face flushes with heat again.

They have to be quiet when detention actually starts, and Steve doesn't get the chance to ask Eddie what he did to get detention. But he can guess: he was probably late to class a few too many times, or neglected to turn in an assignment again. Something that Eddie is notorious for.

---

They fall silent when detention starts, and Eddie sees Steve lay his head down. He lets himself watch, admiring the way Steve pushes his hair out of his face before he sighs and looks across the room, blinking at the chalkboard. His eyes glaze over after a moment, and his eyebrows furrow like he's thinking hard about something. And Eddie is curious about what goes on in Steve Harrington's head. He has a feeling it's nothing good when Steve blinks his eyes, sniffling and tilting his head to lay it on his forearm. He looks like he's going to cry.

Eddie pulls his bag close and rips a scrap out of one of his notebook, rummaging around in the bottom of the bag for a pen before he scribbles a note and slides it onto Steve's desk.

you ok?

Steve lifts his head to look at him, and somehow his face falls even more as he reads it, and Eddie suddenly wants to wrap his arms around him, this boy he's never even spoken to, as Steve looks over at him and shrugs weakly.

What's wrong? Eddie mouths.

Steve looks back at the nose, biting his lip, and then he gestures for the pen, and Eddie passes it to him.

just feel like shit

Eddie looks at the note, contemplating, ultimately deciding that he can't give him a hug right here and now (unfortunately), and he draws the lines for tic-tac-toe before passing it back to Steve.

Steve looks at it and smiles.

He glances up at the teacher, who's reading something, and he moves his chair closer to Eddie, leaving the paper between them. The movement makes Eddie's stomach flutter, and he internally curses himself, because now is not the time to think about how he has a crush on a straight boy.

But he can't do anything about it, because Steve lays his head back down, drawing a little X in the center square, and his cheek squishes against his arm, and his hair falls to the desk, and he looks beautiful. Eddie looks away from him, but leans down, crossing an arm over the desk in front of himself and resting his chin on it.

They play three games, passing the pen back and forth. Steve wins the first two, and it makes him smile again and again, and Eddie decides he's set the world alight to make him smile. It makes his eyes squeeze shut in a way that's going to leave crow's feet behind when he's older. Eddie suddenly hopes he gets to see it.

Eddie sticks his tongue out at him like a child when he finally wins a game, drawing a sharp line through his Os, and Steve snorts, shaking his head at him.

Eddie sits up while Steve is staring at their next game, analyzing Eddie's Os carefully, and he stretches his back, looking across the room. Peters is asleep now, slouched over at his desk and snoring quietly, his book on his chest.

Eddie grins, elbowing Steve and gesturing with a jerk of his chin when Steve looks up at him.

Steve makes a face at Peters, looking oddly disappointed in him, and Eddie almost laughs, pressing his lips together when Steve looks back at him.

---

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Eddie whispers softly, and Steve glances him up and down, scanning his ripped jeans and his Megadeth t-shirt that's stained, the black fabric spotted reddish orange, his tangled necklaces and heavy rings.

"Probably not."

And Eddie just gives him this grin, this shit-eating, let's-break-the-law type of grin that makes Steve want to break the law. And Steve watches as he snatches the pen up from the table and grabs his backpack, standing up and crossing the room. The chains hanging from his jeans jingle happily, but Peters doesn't stir, and neither do the other kids, who just cast looks at Eddie and then lay back down or look back at whatever homework they're doing. Steve watches him, until he stops in the doorway like he can feel him watching.

Eddie turns back around, meeting Steve's eyes, and he gives him a look, widening his eyes and shaking his head before he beckons dramatically like they're going to be late for something. Steve glances at Peters, who hasn't moved.

And he follows Eddie.

Eddie is beaming when he follows him out, leaving their chairs behind, still out of place, and he starts to laugh as they head down the hallways toward the exit before he tosses an arm over Steve's shoulder, jostling him and messing up his hair. Steve doesn't mind.

---

"You're a terrible influence," Steve says, but he's smiling too, stumbling as Eddie pulls him along, arm still around his shoulders.

"But you were influenced so easily. You think I can get you into metal?"

"Absolutely not. Where are we going?"

They're exiting the building, the doors swinging shut behind them loudly, and Eddie just pulls him toward his van, standing out obnoxiously among the other students' cars.

"We're gonna smoke some weed," he says brightly. "Because you need it."

"In the school parking lot?" Steve questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Obviously not, we're leaving the school parking lot. I'll bring you back for your car when we're sober."

"Oh. Okay."

He just goes with it. He seems lighter than he did in the detention room, an absent smile on his face as he buckles himself in, looking around Eddie's van. It's a mess, but Eddie supposes it's representative of him. Steve jumps when Eddie turns the van on and the music comes on, the volume too loud, but he just laughs when Eddie headbangs as he buckles up.

They end up at the quarry. It's oddly quiet when the music turns off, replaced by the gentle sloshing of the water below them, by the leaves rattling in the wind.

They move to the back of the van, sitting opposite each other with their legs hanging over the edge, dangling above the dirt and gravel, and Eddie looks at Steve as he looks around, at the sky, which is now a soft grey.

"Why do you feel like shit today?" Eddie asks as he pulls a bong out from where it's hidden under a blanket.

Steve looks at him, his head falling back, and he looks tired, but relaxed. His shirt is wrinkled now.

"Just... I don't know. I feel..." He watches Eddie get the weed ready, eyes half-shut like he's going to fall asleep. "Tired. All the time. My dad was in town last week and he..." He's quiet for a moment. "I don't like him very much."

Eddie looks at him solemnly. One of his legs is propped up, his arm around it, the other kicking the air weakly.

"Is he gone now?" he asks before he takes a hit, the sound of the bubbling water filling the van.

"Yeah. Spain, this time."

"Spain? For what?" Eddie questions when he lifts his head, wrinkling his nose and exhaling.

"Who fuckin' knows, man," Steve says, laughing lightly, but it's a forced laugh, and Eddie can tell he wishes he knew.

"Does your dad suck?" he asks, passing the bong and lighter to Steve, who sighs and takes them. His chest rises and falls as he takes a hit, and Eddie's eyes follow the way his lips part to let the smoke out.

"Yeah."

Eddie nods.

Steve takes another hit, looking out across the quarry as he exhales, eyes a little glazed over.

"He wants me to..." Steve pauses, holding the bong back out to Eddie and sighing. "To follow in his footsteps. With his business and everything."

"Do you want to?" Eddie asks softly, gazing at him. Steve scoffs.

"Fuck no. 'D rather fuckin' die."

A laugh bursts out of Eddie and Steve grins lazily at him.

"What would you do?" Eddie asks. "If you got to pick. You graduate high school and then..."

Steve hums breathily, slouching and fidgeting with the end of the blanket as Eddie takes a hit.

"Probably just... take off," he says finally, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Pack my shit 'nd just leave."

Eddie exhales the smoke, smiling.

"You don't like it here?"

Steve scoffs.

"Hate this fuckin' town."

"This town loves you," Eddie points out, but Steve's face just falls a little, and he shakes his head.

"...They love who they think I am," he says softly after a moment. "They love King fucking Steve, not me. I wanna go."

"Isn't that the dream," Eddie says softly, ignoring the way his chest hurts for him. He wonders if he's the only one who knows Steve. This Steve, this... fragile, lonely boy.

"You too?"

"Jesus, yeah." Eddie passes the bong to him, still smiling, and he tosses the lighter. Steve catches it against his chest, looking at him curiously. "Hate this fuckin' town, man."

"You're not from Hawkins," Steve says. "Right?"

"Nope." He watches Steve flick the lighter, watches him duck his head to take a hit, watches his shoulders rise as he inhales. "Moved here with my uncle when I was nine."

Steve looks up, giving him a curious look as he leans back against the side of the van and exhales slowly.

"Why're you here?"

Eddie hums lightly, reaching for the bong. Steve tosses the lighter and giggles when Eddie doesn't catch it. Eddie flips him off. He grins.

"Dad was more into drinking than he was being a father," Eddie says. "And Ma didn't stick around long after he took up liquor. So. Wayne stepped in."

"Is he nice?" Steve asks after a moment, his voice so small it almost disappears behind the bubbling water. Eddie nods as he lifts his head.

"He's real nice," he says. "Kinda my best friend."

Steve smiles, listening.

"But he knows I hate it here. Knows I wanna leave as soon as I can. He's cool with it."

"Where would you go?" Steve asks, drawing both knees to his chest and leaning forward, hugging them to himself as he looks at Eddie like Eddie's going to tell him a story. He looks so young, like he's just a little kid, daydreaming about escaping a lonely town. Eddie's chest aches.

"Maybe San Francisco," he says softly, setting the bong aside. "Or some other big city. Somewhere I'll see other people like me. Somewhere I don't have to worry as much about being stared at, you know?"

Steve looks at him, his chin on one of his knees, and his eyes are shining at him.

"I like looking at you," he says after a moment, whispering. Eddie's stomach flutters again, and he smiles as Steve's face flushes pink. "...I'm kind of a lightweight. Sorry."

"'S okay," Eddie says softly, mirroring him, wrapping his arms around his legs and gazing across at him. "I like looking at you too."

He really does. Eddie always thought his eyes were brown, but they're hazel, lighter up close, specked with green and gold and the stars. His skin is spotted with moles that Eddie wants to memorize. Steve relaxes a bit at the confession, his lips curving into a smile, and he leans closer. Eddie leans closer too.

---

"Where would you go?" Eddie whispers.

He doesn't have to speak any louder. It's so quiet now, especially when Steve's head is a little cloudy and everything feels muffled.

"Anywhere," Steve whispers back. "Just... pack up and drive. Follow the roads to wherever they take me."

Eddie is smiling. His eyes keep flicking across Steve's face in a way that makes him feel a little self-conscious, wondering if there's something on his skin, but Eddie is just looking at him, his eyes aimlessly wandering across his face.

"Sounds nice," he says softly.

They fall silent, and Steve gazes at him. He looks so... soft.

Everyone makes him out to be so scary. Like he's a stray dog, like he's dangerous, but his eyes are dark and shiny, and he doesn't look threatening or menacing at all right now. His head is tilted like he's curious about what Steve is thinking, and his hair looks fluffy, and he just looks a little sad.

Steve wants to kiss him.

He hates himself for thinking it, for thinking how easy it would be to just... lean over. They're so close, and Steve's brain feels fuzzy, and for some reason, he doesn't think Eddie would mind all that much if Steve kissed him. But he can't.

Boys like Steve don't kiss other boys.

Especially boys like Eddie Munson.

It makes his chest ache, and his lip quivers. He sees Eddie notice it, the way the air shifts a little bit. Eddie's brows furrow, and he looks like he's pouting a little. And he's so adorable Steve wants to bite him.

"I hate this fucking town, Eddie," he says weakly, taking a breath to steady himself, because he doesn't want to cry. Not when he actually feels so... good. Good because he's a little high, but also good just because he's with Eddie, who doesn't seem to mind that Steve feels like shit. Eddie, who didn't tell him to just snap out of it, to just deal with it. Eddie, who just smiles despite the way Steve's eyes are glistening with tears, and leans in closer. (Close enough to kiss.)

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he whispers.

It makes Steve laugh, and he wipes the tears that fall down his face.

"Probably not," he says, still laughing softly, his voice wavering, and he sets his chin back on his knee, looking at Eddie. A soft gust of wind blows into the van, and Eddie's bangs shift and his curls fly into his face.

"Let's do it," Eddie whispers after another moment of looking.

Steve blinks. Eddie's smile widens.

"Let's get out of here," he whispers. "Let's just leave this fucking town, they don't need us."

Steve's heart beats faster, and he leans forward.

"Okay," he says.

"We should graduate first," Eddie says, voice still soft. "I gotta make my uncle proud somehow, so if I graduate this year, I'll wait for you, and then we can just..." He shrugs. "Pack our shit. Leave."

"Together?" Steve breathes.

"Yeah," Eddie says, as though it's obvious. Steve smiles, taking a breath, his legs falling as he stares at Eddie. He's serious.

Steve scoffs, smile widening.

"I can, uhm." Eddie swallows, shifting so he's crossing his legs. "I've been thinking about applying at that mechanic that's outside town, Morgan's? I heard they pay well, so I can... I can save some money up."

"I can get a job too," Steve says, almost excited. "There're tons of places in town that are hiring, and I can-- I can save up my allowance from my parents. And I can sell my Beemer."

"Your Beemer?" Eddie says, eyebrows flying up in surprise, which makes sense, Steve supposes. The care is practically who he is, what he's known for, but--

"We won't need it. We can take your van."

Eddie blinks, and his lips curve into a smile.

"Okay," he says softly. "Yeah."

They stare at each other for a moment as it sets it, and Steve's eyes burn.

"Really?" he asks weakly, and Eddie nods, smiling.

"Yeah," he says. "Fuck it. We'll take what we need and we'll just... go. Follow the roads to wherever."

Excitement floods Steve's body, and he moves onto his knees, taking a sharp breath, smiling and smiling and smiling.

"We can-- We can put a mattress back here," Eddie says, looking around the van. "We'll have to share, but--"

"I don't mind," Steve says abruptly. "I don't-- I don't mind sharing."

Eddie's eyes flicker across his face again.

"Okay," he says softly. "And we can... bring some bags and sort them out back here, and-- and food and water, and we can take turns driving. And every night it can be like this," he says, moving a little closer. Steve aches. "We can find beaches, and lakes, and mountains, and we can get high and just explore." His eyes are gleaming excitedly, and he's smiling. "I'll bring my tapes, and you'll get used to metal."

Steve giggles.

"Can I make you listen to my music too?" he asks, and Eddie gives a dramatic, silly eye-roll.

"I guess." And then he's just smiling. "I can bring books."

"Will you read to me?" Steve asks, and then his face flushes with embarrassment. "Just-- I'm not-- I'm not good at reading and--"

"I'll read to you, Stevie," Eddie says gently.

"...Okay."

They look at each other again.

"I can bring some maps," Steve says. "Atlases and stuff. So we know where gas stations are and stuff."

"Yeah, that's smart."

Steve doesn't hear that often. His face flushes with heat again.

"God, I'm so excited," Eddie says, and he's got that grin again, that grin that could convince Steve to do anything. "We just have to graduate. Then we can go."

"How soon after grad?"

"Soon as possible," Eddie says. "I'll pick up my stuff and say goodbye to Wayne, promise to send him postcards 'n shit, and then I can pick you up."

"I won't say bye to my parents," Steve decides out loud, shaking his head. "I'll just-- just leave them a note telling them I'm fine. Or if they're at home, I'll just go."

Eddie nods, eyes bright.

"We're gonna run away together," Steve realizes, his voice soft as he gazes at him, and Eddie tilts his head.

"Yeah. We are."

Steve hugs him.

---

Eddie startles with how sudden it is, Steve tacking him with a hug so hard they fall back against the wall of the van, but he wastes no time hugging him back, arms tight around his waist as Steve buries his face in his neck.

"Sorry," Steve says into his neck.

"Don't be," Eddie mumbles. "Wanted to hug you for ages."

Steve's arms tighten around him, and he settles against him, leaning so their chests press together. Eddie slides his hands over his back, pressing one into his hair. He smells nice.

It's a while that they stay there, wrapped around each other, but Eddie is content to stay there all night, as long as Steve needs.

When they finally part, they don't let go of each other. It's slow, the way Steve's hands slide to his neck, his fingertips cold and his palms warm as they press to his skin, and their faces are so close.

Steve's breath is warm on Eddie's face. Eddie tilts his head, and their noses brush.

He startles away, stomach flipping over, and Steve is looking at him, wide-eyed.

"Were you about to kiss me?" he asks breathlessly. Eddie's stomach clenches.

"I..." Of course he'd ruin everything so soon. "Yeah, I'm-- I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I just..."

But before he can spiral, Steve is reaching out and grabbing his face, pulling him in, and their mouths crash together. Eddie's eyes widen, and his hands fly into the air as he startles, but Steve just holds his face, and they're kissing.

Eddie closes his eyes, his hands finding Steve's shoulders, and the kiss softens as Steve slides his fingers into Eddie's hair.

---

It is soft.

Eddie is soft.

Steve moves closer as Eddie squeezes his shoulders and runs his hands over his biceps, his fingertips slipping under the sleeves of his shirt. Eddie follows, holding him with one hand and using the other to catch himself as he falls back against the wall of the van, and then he's pulling Steve closer by the belt loops of his jeans, and Steve falls against him. They're barely kissing now, just grinning against each other's mouths.

Steve kneels between his legs, spreading his knees to move as close as possible, so Eddie's legs are over his thighs, and he reaches to hold his face again, his palms pressing to Eddie's (soft) cheeks, fingers slipping behind his ears. He kisses softly too, almost tender as he presses a hand into the small of Steve's back and pulls him close. Steve hums, pulling back to tilt his head, glancing at Eddie's lips before he leans back in. They're kissed red, and Steve feels like his heart might be glowing.

Eddie tugs at his back again, shifting and sliding a hand down his thigh, squeezing and pulling

"C'mere," he mumbles. "Sit on my lap."

Steve giggles, shifting so he can sit atop Eddie's thighs.

"Thought you were gonna take me back to my car," he says quietly, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie's lips. Eddie's hands slide over his waist, and he tilts his chin up to look at him.

"I said I would when we're sober," he says, and Steve realizes what he's been looking at when his eyes flicker over his face. "Are you still high?"

Steve pauses, blinking at him.

"Mm... My head feels fuzzy but I can't tell if it's the weed or if it's because you're kissing me."

Eddie hums thoughtfully.

"Maybe we should stick around here a while longer just in case," he whispers. Steve smiles, leaning down and closing his eyes as their noses brush.

"Okay."

Eddie tilts his chin up. Steve kisses him.

"Can we do this when we run away together?" Steve murmurs when they part after a while, breathless.

"'Course," Eddie whispers, kissing him. He reaches up and holds the back of Steve's head, his fingers tangling with his hair, and Steve doesn't mind. He kisses him. "We can do whatever the fuck we want."

"Okay."

He kisses him. And kisses him, and kisses him, and he revels in it like the sunlight. Because he's kissing a boy, sitting atop his lap and feeling his warm hands run over his waist and back and legs, listening to his deep voice let out soft hums and breathy whispers of Steve's name as it all intensifies. And Steve never thought he'd find himself here, but he loves being here.

He runs his fingers through Eddie's hair, untangling it carefully as he sucks on Eddie's lower lip, and Eddie hums quietly, fingers pressing and kneading Steve's thighs in a way no one's ever done before, but it feels so good. Steve sighs.

The sky is dimming when they finally part for more than just breaths between kisses. Eddie laughs softly, hugging Steve's waist.

His hair is messy, frizzy from Steve's fingers, and Steve's shirt is partially untucked from Eddie's, and he kind of feels high, but it's definitely not the weed.

The feeling fades as they drive back to the high school, as Eddie reaches over and holds Steve's leg, as Steve reaches down and twists their fingers together. The parking lot is empty except for Steve's car. (Steve's care car that he's going to sell.)

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," Eddie says as Steve is getting out of the van. Steve blushes.

"You got a pen?"

"Uh... Yeah?" Eddie rummages through the glove compartment for one and hands it to Steve, who kneels on the passenger seat and pulls at Eddie's hand, uncapping it with his teeth. His brows furrow in focus as he carefully writes his phone number on Eddie's hand.

"Call me," he says as he finishes, the words slurred about the pen cap, and he lets go of his hand, capping the pen again. "When you get home."

Eddie looks at the number, smiling.

"Okay."

He tilts his chin up, which Steve is already learning is his silent sign for wanting a kiss, and Steve leans back into the van, ducking to avoid hitting his head as he stretches over the center console, a hand holding himself up on the passenger seat as he kisses Eddie. Their lips don't land square on each other, and they're both smiling too much to really kiss each other, but Eddie's hand is warm when it finds Steve's cheek, and it's perfect.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers against Eddie's lips. Eddie's fingertip traces his jaw.

He has to tear himself away from Eddie after one last kiss.

He'll invite him to spend the night sometime when he calls him.

dialogue prompts!! ❧ buy me a coffee // check out my commissions ☙

[rangosmango7]

started maybe writing a drarry fic but it’s just a culmination of a bunch of fluffy, sad ideas at the moment, but here’s a cute little scene

Draco and Teddy feels:

Wedged in between an abandoned ice cream parlor and a post office was a small brick storefront, framed by climbing roses and showcasing various mis-matched, antique objects through the front windows.

All Draco saw was a warm light and a shield from the oncoming storm– then all he saw was Teddy Lupin, peeking up from behind that old wooden countertop and surrounded by millions of antiques covered in years of dust.

It took a second, of course, for Draco to fully register the fact that those gray-blue eyes were an exact replica of his own, and he blinked a few times when, for hardly a millisecond, the curls on the top of that small head flashed platinum before returning to their natural turquoise hue.

Draco finally steps inside after a moment, his brow furrowing as he hesitantly watches the small boy scramble off of whatever stool he had currently been perched upon. His eyes widen slowly as Teddy, quite determinedly, walks right up to him.

He’s dressed in a blue and green striped sweater with denim overalls; there’s a bright blue pin on the front pocket that says “Assistant Manager” and mismatched socks peeking from the top of the worn muggle sneakers on his small feet.

The boy gestures to their right, drawing Draco’s attention to a shelf full of antique decanters in a myriad of different colors, “These a-are new— Haz says they’re hand-ade,” Teddy says informatively, staring up at Draco with bright eyes, and if Draco weren’t overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things in this enclosed space and the presence of his estranged cousin in a muggle resale shop, he’d find Teddy’s breathless stutter dreadfully endearing.

“Ah— handmade, you say?” Draco asks after a few awkward moments, finding himself at a loss and just barely stopping himself from running right back out the door.

The second he’d laid eyes on the boy, the first feeling to wash over him was pure shock— the second was pure shame.

His mother spoke of her sister, Andromeda, often. Never in front of his grandparents or Lucius, but when they were by the fire, just the two of them, late at night. His mother would stare off into the fire and he would ask— he always asks what’s wrong.

She would smile, so, so sadly, and tell him stories about Andromeda. Once, with a wave of her hand, she conjured the night sky, moving her hand over the Andromeda Galaxy with reverence. How bright, how damned beautiful was her sister? So encompassing and lovely, was her sister.

He’d never met Andromeda, nor her daughter, but he had met Remus Lupin. He’d met Remus Lupin and he’d said horrible things about the werewolf; about Teddy’s father. Teddy Lupin, his own blood, left without parents because they died so that he and the rest of the world could continue on.

Teddy’s parents who would undoubtedly hate Draco, who wouldn’t want any part of his life touching Teddy’s, because Draco Malfoy was— is— an entitled, bigoted Death Eater, and hadn’t spared a thought for Andromeda nor her orphaned grandson after the war.

The shame soaked through him deeper than the downpour did, but he found himself stuck in place.

He’s learned something new, today; it’s quite difficult to turn down the conversation of a bright, happy Teddy Lupin while he beams up at you, straightening his spine and puffing out his chest pridefully at the opportunity to inform you about antique muggle decanters.

Teddy nods enthusiastically, grinning wide, “Yes! Haz says they’re from the eight-teeth century, and not to touch them because when I touch glass things the-ey break, so I don’t touch them— but I think he would let you! I don’t think you break things yo-ou touch.”

And, wow, wasn’t that just a punch to the gut he wasn’t expecting this morning.

“I’m afraid we have the same habit of breaking things,” Draco says dejectedly, flashing Teddy a small smile before actually getting a good look at his surroundings.

The store, while seeming rather small from the outside, is full to the brim with all sorts of objects. The walls are lined with bookcases, chipped wardrobes and various posters, signs and paintings. There are shelves sticking out from the walls and the odd piece of furniture, creating a haphazard maze, of sorts, that seems to extend so far back that Draco isn’t sure exactly where it ends— if it ends. He suspects some sort of (illegal) extension charm and his brows furrow further.

There are tea sets and glass lamps and VHS tapes and muggle cameras and clothes. Draco isn’t exactly sure how anyone could ever manage to navigate this mess— it doesn’t matter, though, because he isn’t planning on staying long, really; only until the rain stops it’s assault on London.

Teddy seems to be able to navigate the mess just fine as he takes Draco’s hand, leading him further and further into the maze.

They stop in front of what Draco gathers is one of those muggle record players— Granger has one in her small cottage, and Draco had gotten several lectures on how delicate the black discs are, having been on the receiving end of many “don’t touch the needle!”s and “you’re as bad as a toddler!”s every time he attempted to use the damned thing.

Teddy picks up a record from one of the surrounding crates and holds it up to Draco with a grin.

“Two fo-or one sale!” He says brightly, and Draco hesitantly takes the object from the boy, straightening up to give it a good once over.

While every other record seemed to be covered in dust and packed tightly away, this one was smooth to the touch as Draco ran his fingers over the image on the cover. A man, standing in front of a brick building at night. There was a sign above his head reading “K. West”, and in the upper-left corner it read: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.

“I’m not sure I understand…”

Draco’s squinting, rereading the words in the hopes that they’d change into a sentence he was able to even begin to understand.

Teddy snatches it from his hands, walking over to the record player with a little hop in his step, smiling excitedly over at Draco before he removes the black disc from its sheath with an impressive amount of care for a toddler.

“This was daddy’s fa-avorite, Haz says,” Teddy tells him softly, and Draco’s heart seizes and stutters and the least he can do is stand there like a dolt and listen to Ziggy Stardust.

He watches with barely suppressed intrigue as Teddy gently eases the needle onto the disc.

He steps back as a calm piano plays through the cluttered store, filling up the space with an easy tune, a strong voice and a steady beat.

He’d never heard music quite like this before, not even at Granger’s, and there’s something overwhelming tugging at him as he looks over at Teddy, watching him drum his little fingers against his overalls. He can’t help but smile a little when Teddy lifts his gaze, grinning up at Draco and bobbing his head encouragingly.

“And he was alright,

The band was all together

Yes, he was alright

The song went on forever”

Draco concedes to the boy's silent encouragement, bobbing his head along with Teddy, prompting a sudden giggle out of his small cousin.

Teddy starts mouthing the words around his grin.

“And he was awful nice

Really quite paradise

And he sang all night,

All night long

Oh, how I sighed,

When they asked if I knew his name,”

“Teddy!”

They both jumped at the distant call, and Teddy quickly scrambled to stop the record before whoever called for him rounded the corner.

“I’m no-ot supposed to play the records when Harry’s not here,” Teddy whispers, shooting a wide eyed, guilty look Draco’s way— as if they were both in trouble.

haven’t attempted really writing a drarry fic because good god the amount of feelings jam packed into these things is crazy and i’m gonna have to do my best to sort through it all 🫡

[onetoomanyyy]

can you do a deep Namida analysis? you can include personal hcs i need her i need h < wants namida lore so bad orz

Namida. Naminami. Master Namida. Mida-Chan. The Girl From Planet Namik.

I’m much more of a headcanons guy than an analysis guy, so this will probably be more “headcanons slightly based on analysis” than the other way around, sorry 😵‍💫 (however, a little while ago fishhjuice did a compiling of all the canon namida facts)

Namida likes to present herself as the most orderly and put-together member of Squid Squad, but in actuality she’s probably the strangest one. She can be quiet around strangers, but once you get her talking you’ll never get her to stop. She knows all sorts of seemingly useless facts that somehow always manage to come in handy. She has insane spice tolerance and usually finds herself adding copious amounts of hot sauce to foods she thinks are too mellow. She likes photography and art, sometimes doodling her friends in her free time. Her lack of a complete eyemask is a mutation that she used to touch up with makeup, but later abandoned it after it started to become integral to her image. She’s willing to sing but is a bit embarrassed to, as she isn’t sure her singing voice is all that good.

Namida grew up fairly wealthy and her parents fostered her love for music at a young age, sending her to a music school where she learned piano and picked up some jazz theory. Later, she began to grow bored with the prim and proper lifestyle, and was the first member to join Squid Squad after becoming fast friends with Ichiya.

Namida is the emotional core of Squid Squad. Shes the best at talking to people and has a way with words that make it impossible to stay mad at her (even if she just did something that definitely warrants it). She’s also the most affectionate member and is responsible for the most group hugs.

Out of all her bandmates, Namida is closest with Ichiya. She was the first person he met after moving to Inkopolis, and he was pretty much the first really close friend she ever had. However, this closeness meant that during the final weeks of Sqdsqd’s lifespan, she tended to brush off how much of an ass Ichiya was being out of fear of damaging the band further. This did not turn out to be the right decision and she went on to feel a little guilty about it, wishing she could have done more. She puts up with a lot of his shit, but is willing to give him another chance come Front Roe. She’s a little worried about it all, but she has hope that it will work out. (go read my fic for more on that 😋😋😋) (shameless plug)

Namida and Murasaki are partners in crime, two chaotic-good bundles of energy. They’re pretty much the only duo who never had any ill will towards one another. The majority of Namida’s nicknames were coined by Murasaki. They lost contact with each other after the breakup but happily reunited later down the line. In Front Roe, Nami wishes that Murasaki wouldn’t be so dismissive of Ichiya nowadays, because that definitely isn’t going to fix anything. Wow, finally a pair that isn’t that complicated!

Namida always respected Ikkan for his musical prowess and considered him the funniest (even though he cracked jokes the least often). They would end up sharing the quietest moments together, making easy small talk and sometimes exchanging personal musings they wouldn’t share with the others. However, even Namida had concerns that some of his criticisms of the band were a bit too harsh, but they were all in good faith, right? So it wasn’t a big deal, right? She misses having someone to talk to where she didn’t feel a need to be the bigger person.

that’s all I’ve got for Namida! I really don’t draw her enough for how fun she is to draw. Thanks for the ask!!

[definitivelynotanalien]

rgrgrgrgrgrg ur turn! what are your infinight headcanons? also, this goes for both the interns AND og infinights if you've got any for 'em!!!!

BUCKLE UP ALRIGHT?? I AM OBSSESED AND MY FAVORITE HOBBIE IS MAKING UP HEADCANONS!!

Gum Gum:

- As mentioned in on my most recent post, Gum Gum has 4c hair and Bart braids it for him

- He doesn't actually like candy because it keeps getting stuck in his molars and it's hard to get it out with his tusks on the way

- He has trouble eating because of said tusks but he manages

- He lets Bart draw on his skin with ink

- He thinks being Afraid is a Bad Thing because kids mocked him for it at the Orchidnage

- He cries trying to do simple math, not because it's frustrating but because he knows it really shouldn't be This hard (I'm projecting so hard right now)

- Nobody admits it but he has the highest alcohol tolerance in the entire team

Bart:

- He has an incredibly wide voice range but his voice is his most natural if a bit Exaggerated at times

- He thinks Mudd is kinda hot but in a "Wow my friend is so pretty frr" kinda way y'know?

- Only brushes back his hair when out and about, at the headquarters and while camping his hair a mess

- Sleeps in briefs and if you're lucky one of Gum Gum's old shirts when in his room

- Likes to throw people off by asking to be carried or letting himself be walked into just to reveal how dense (Heavy) he is

- He has a fish tattooed on his chest as a reference to Captain Marrge (He'll never admit that's why)

- Has to plead and fight Gum Gum every week or two to try and get him to bathe (He doesn't bathe Galindor btw, he just puts him in the bath and leaves)

- He knows how to style people's hairs and really likes doing if. If only Kyborg let him run his fingers through his hair more often

Mudd:

- Puts things high up in shelfs so the others can't reach them

- Has done "Elf on a shelf" to Kyborg exactly 1 time and hated the feeling of Ky's shirt on his hands but it was worth putting him up there

- He has some pretty strange sensory issues (As in they are waaay too specific).

- He doesn't like hugs or kisses or anything like that because the feeling of touch remains on his skin Foever and it drives him mad

- His cape acts like a weighted blanket

- Shares fruit with Gumbo on a regular basis

- His tent in the largest because obviously, and has had to get the whole team out of it multiple times because they keep using it as a hangout spot

- Gossips with Bart about people that look fruity to them (*Cough cough* Spectril and Slique)

- He's a S€x and Romance repulsed aroace and suffers whenever Bart flirts with anyone

- Once he gained the ability to, he started changing the shape of his ears to something smaller and less "cow-like" because he's insecure about it. He switches on and off between liking them and hating them

Kyborg:

- He adores Gum Gum because the kid genuinely thinks he's cool

- Tries not to cry whenever he sees a kid with their parents

- He's afraid to ever have children because what if they loose him too?

- Uses his hatred against Quadron as his only motivation to stay alive

- His friends are his family even if he will never admit it, he lives for them

- He braids his hair like his mom used to braid hers, charms and rings and all.

- He likes it when Bart brushes his hair or braids it, but he's afraid to show that level of attachment.

- He has abandonment issues if we're honest

- Will fight Brink Tussler but also if anything happens to that guy seriously he'll Cry for ages

- Feeds Gumbo worms he finds on the woods while Mudd's not looking

Slique:

- He forgets he's missing fingers and only realizes when he tries to count with them

- Has dropped his tuning sword and regretted it many times

- Gets attached way too easily to anyone who's "nice enough to him", probably because of his need for approval and attention

[collecting-stories]

Pablo Neruda - Usnavi de la Vega

Request: no

Summary: reader has a crush on Usnavi and invites him to dinner. Just a bunch of fluff really.

A/N: I don't even know for sure how long this has been in my notes. Literally found it the other day and figured it was high time to finish it and post it here. Even if no one really cares about In the Heights anymore.

Broadway Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The sight behind the counter shouldn’t have been a surprising one. It was more common than not that you would find Marco here, chin just level with the counter despite the stool that Usnavi let him stand on. He thought the bodega was the coolest place on earth and frequently told the owner that when he was Sonny’s age, he too would work there.  

His Spider-Man bike was chained up outside, evidence that he’d ridden straight here after school despite your constant reminders that he needed to come home first.  

“Someday I’m gonna report you as a missing child…they’re gonna think Usnavi kidnapped you.” You remarked, the bell jangling as the door shut behind you. The fan set up in the corner blew passed you as it oscillated, trying to keep the store cool in the early heat of June. You took quick stock of what you could see, noting the absence of any adult supervising your seven-year-old. “Speaking of, where is Usnavi?” 

“The cooler broke again,” Marco replied. The thud of his small feet hitting the floor echoed in the space and he came around the counter to hug you, “I got a gold star on my story about Puerto Rico,” he mentioned, pulling away to go retrieve the paper that had already been pinned up to the bulletin board behind the counter. No doubt Usnavi’s doing.  

“Wow, that’s so great baby,” you took the papers that were stapled together, looking over the story that he’d recited to you three times that morning. “You’re like a little Pablo Neruda.”  

“Who?” Marco took the papers back, hanging them in their rightful place once more. A couple of his drawings accompanied the story. Once Usnavi had even hung a spelling test up so everyone could see it. You appreciated the sweetness, the willingness to help whenever you needed it, having someone around that your son could rely on, but it didn’t stop the occasional pang of something indescribable in your chest. You didn’t want Marco to get his hopes up…god knows you kept waiting for something you were sure wasn’t going to happen. Despite Carla constantly insisting that Usnavi had feelings for you.  

“Yeah, feelings of friendship. Feelings of ‘look at this poor pathetic girl I’ve known my whole life, still can’t make it out, got a kid now cause she was too stupid to see when her boyfriend was lying to her.” 

“Trust me, the only thing Usnavi’s thinking with when you come in the store is-“ 

“Oh god Carla!” 

But you couldn’t help feeling more than a little hopeful everytime you saw one of Marco’s tests or drawings hanging up, as if Usnavi was just as proud as you were. As if Marco had a dad (or at least a father figure) who actually cared about him.  

“Pablo Neruda wrote love poems,” Usnavi’s voice sounded from behind you. “He’s your mama’s favorite.”  

You turned to look at him and he winked as if the two of you were co-conspirators. Like you were in on the same secret and it made your heart pick up speed just a little bit.  

“Who else is gonna write me love poems?” You managed to say, rather proud that you’d even mustered a sentence together.  

The smile didn’t leave Usnavi’s face, even after you turned back to Marco and told him to get his stuff together so you could go home. While you were used to the moaning and protesting that usually accompanied this request you were rather taken aback when Marco hopped off the stool without question and started gathering his school supplies off the counter.  

“Can Usnavi come over for dinner? He said Sonny’ll be here soon to help and that means he wouldn’t have to hang around too…can he?” Marco asked, eagerly, looking to Usnavi, “do you wanna come over for dinner?” 

“You’re going to abuela’s for dinner, remember?” It was Wednesday and Wednesday meant dinner with your ex’s mom.  

“Well, then you and Usnavi can have dinner.” He suggested, toothy smile (minus a noticeable one in the front).  

You thought about saying that you were more than positive Usnavi had better things to do than come over to your place and eat dinner with you but your mouth worked before your brain could intervene and suddenly you heard yourself saying, “what’d you say? Wanna have dinner with me?” to Usnavi.  

Maybe it was the heat or the work trying to fix the cooler that had him flushed but you swore he looked almost nervous when he nodded his head, like the offer was too good to be true. “Yeah, definitely.”  

Usnavi wasn’t one to get his hopes up. Benny constantly swore that you were basically in love, (“you’re practically raising Marco together, now if you could just get together”), but Usnavi didn’t want to take the chance and look like a fool. Not to mention, he liked Marco a lot and he didn’t want you to think he had some ulterior motive for being nice to your son. He wasn’t expecting you to want to be with him and he didn’t want you to think he was.  

You told him seven o’clock and he got there at 6:45, standing at the bottom of the stoop and contemplating the flowers he’d brought. You didn’t say it was date or even imply that this was anything more than you offering a meal while Marco was at his abuela’s. Maybe you just didn’t feel like eating alone. Or maybe you felt bad because Marco had offered dinner and you didn’t want to be rude. Maybe the flowers were overkill, maybe you were allergic.  

“You stand outside all night, you’re never gonna get a chance,” Daniela teased as she walked passed him, bumping her hip against his playfully.  

“We’re just having dinner,” Usnavi didn’t bother to ask how Daniela already knew about the dinner. No doubt everyone in Washington Heights knew about dinner.  

“Yeah?” She plucked a flower out of the bunch, “hoping for dessert?”  

Usnavi choked on his reply, swallowing down the last bout of nerves and heading up to the door before Daniela could continue teasing him. You were on the second floor, the black and white tiled hallway was missing a piece right beside your door and when you complained the landlord told you there was nothing he could do. Now a large pot sat over it with monstera growing next to a welcome mat that you changed out for the seasons. It was getting close to valentines and the mat had red and pink X’s and O’s.  

The green door was cracked open, a “come on in” gesture that Usnavi had encounter a few times before when he’d offered to keep Marco while you worked and then walked the boy home at the end of the night. He rarely saw you without your son and it occurred to him as he pushed the door open that this would be the first time he was at your place without the seven year old buffer leading the conversations.  

“Uh, hey, the door was open,” Usnavi offered as he walked in, shut the door behind him, and walked further into your apartment. He was still holding the flowers, down by his side, their petals directed at the hardwood floor.  

“Hey,” you moved away from the frying pan to give him a hug, laughing gently at the sight of the bouquet. “Are those for me?”  

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he apologized, whipping them up so fast a few petals fell off. “Daniela stole one, actually.”  

“Well they’re beautiful, thank you.” You took the bouquet from him and Usnavi watched you move around the small kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water and arranging the flowers. He thought about something Abuela Claudia had told him years ago about knowing when he was in love and he turned away, looking around the rest of the small space as if he’d never been in it before.  

“Sonny didn’t mind watching the store I hope,” you mentioned, looking for something to say. It felt different without Marco there. Not the sort of different that made it awkward, despite you grasping for something to say, but the sort of different that felt like talking and having dinner were the furthest things from your mind. The sort of different that had you thinking Daniela and Carla and everyone else in the Heights that had an opinion on it was right.  

“As long as I bring him back something,” he replied. He’d made it to the bookcase near the front door, looking through all the books at eye level first. Pablo Neruda caught his eye and he took the book down, skimming through the pages.  

“Whatca got there?” You asked, coming over to look around his shoulder at the book he was holding in his hands. 

Usnavi tilted his head to look back toward you, “estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes," he began, reciting the poem as you stood there listening, dinner forgotten. His voice was smooth, the way it always was but somehow different too. Sweeter, like honey.  

That different sort of feeling that you were trying not to fall into settled over you as you listened to him read. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and when he finally reached the end of the poem and he looked over at you, the fall you were trying to avoid suddenly crashed over you.  

“...quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos,” he recited, eyes meeting yours.  

“¿Es así?” You were only just barely aware of Usnavi placing the book back on the shelf, the thin volume of poems falling to the floor from its haphazard placement. He turned into your space, kissing you without hesitation.  

Benny always said he was too slow, that he overthought all of his actions before he did them, and that what he needed to do was just act. It wasn’t advice he ever actually took. Usnavi just wasn’t the kind of person who acted on impulse. And then all of the sudden he was holding your face in his hands and kissing you in your living room. Impulsive, absolutely. When you finally pulled away, only to catch your breath, Usnavi smiled. That irresistibly boyish smile that always gave you butterflies. “Dinner?” He asked, only to avoid any more impulsive acts like telling you he loved you.  

“Dinner can wait.”  

- 

The door to the apartment slammed open and Marco came through, kicking his shoes off as he called out, “Mama! Mama!”  

Behind him, the door shut, his grandma stepping into the kitchen and looking suspiciously over the food that was left on the counter, still in the pan though the oven was off. The door to your bedroom was open and before Marco could make it that far you appeared in the hall, holding a zippered sweatshirt closed, semi-nervous smile on your face.  

“Hey baby, how was dinner?” You asked, hovering near the door of your room. 

“Abuela made dulce de leche! I brought you a piece!” He held the tupperware out toward you proudly, “Is Usnavi still here?”  

“Uh, he’s...he’s in the...” you floundered, trying to think of something to say. He was very much still there, on the other side of the open door, pulling his clothes on as fast as possible.  

“Why don’t we put this in the fridge Marco,” your ex’s mother suggested, taking the tupperware back from you and putting her arm around your son’s shoulders, “wait for your mama and this Usnavi to join us.” 

If you didn’t know you’d hear an earful from her about almost getting caught by your son, you would have thanked her for intervening when she did. Instead you just ducked back in your room, closing the door so you could change quickly, clocking Usnavi standing there with a massive grin on his face.  

“Don’t smile at me like that,” you whispered. An empty warning, really.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied, grin still in place.  

“Come on, I still owe you dinner.” You held the bedroom door open for him to go out first, “and now we’ve got dessert too.” 

Usnavi stopped in the doorway to kiss you, “I’ve already had mine.” When you smacked his arm he only laughed and continued into the kitchen, Marco’s excited greeting putting a smile on your face as you walked into the kitchen after him.  

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

The poem Usnavi reads is Pablo Neruda's Everyday You Play .

Translations:

estás aquí. Oh, no te escapes - you are here. Oh you do not run away

quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos - I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees

¿Es así? - is that so? / it's like that?

[dazed-diary]

sugar, spice, and everything nice

summary: you decide to bake brownies in the middle of the night, bakugou just wants a glass of water, the two of you have a conversation

bkg x gn!reader - wc: 3.5k

warnings: just some cursing here and there, that's all!

“Ah, shit.”

You let out a curse under your breath, already moving to get a spoon to retrieve the piece of eggshell that had managed to escape into the batter. With slow and careful movements, you guided the spoon up the inside of the bowl while balancing the frivolous escapee that was threatening to slip back into the batter on the tip.

It was the middle of a Thursday night and the U.A. dorms were asleep, the students being exhausted after the recent spike in villain activities. It was understandable, being tired with everything that was going on, although for some reason, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep at all, seemingly too much on your mind. After alternating between tossing and turning in your bed and mindlessly staring at the dark ceiling for what felt like hours – a look at the time told you it actually had been hours – the urge to bake brownies had inexplicably taken a hold of you. 

For a moment you had just laid there, weighing the pros and cons of a spontaneous past-curfew, definitely-against-the-rules trip to the dorm kitchen for a midnight baking-session, when, after a couple seconds of inner debate, you had decided to just go through with it, throwing the covers off of yourself with a quiet “fuck it”. 

Now you were here, in the kitchen, trying really hard not to make a sound in order to not wake any others – you had even resolved to mixing everything with a whisk instead of a hand mixer, even though an annoying voice at the back of your head was telling you that the bedrooms were too far from the kitchen for anybody to hear you, anyways. 

Nevertheless, now you were dedicated to see this through to the end and continued on whisking away. Once you were satisfied with the look of the batter, you moved on to measure the flour, when, all of a sudden, the ceiling lights of the kitchen turned on, startling you. Originally, you had only turned on the small light above the stove in order not to draw attention from outside, even resorting to your phone flashlight to find the ingredients you needed in the cupboards, so the bright lights from above were a little blinding.

“What the-“, disoriented, you shielded your eyes and turned around to the direction of where you thought the light switches were, trying to identify whoever had busted your little baking session. Still blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness, you expected Mr. Aizawa to be standing in the doorway, ready to give you a lecture. However, you were proven wrong as a gruff voice that definitely did not belong to your sensei cut through the silence.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Bakugou Katsuki stood at the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, both in black, and looking at you as if you had just grown a second head or something.After recovering from the initial shock (and relief at not receiving detention for your stupid idea), you tried to think of a reasonable way to justify still being up.

“Uhhh…”, you said dumbly, trying to think of an explanation that wasn’t just ‘I couldn’t sleep so I did what any sensible person would do and started baking brownies in the middle of the night in our school’s dorm kitchen. Any more questions?

Instead, you uttered a lame “I’m…baking?”. 

Wow, what a great explanation. He surely wouldn’t think you were weird now.

If he doesn’t already think that, you told yourself.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at that, looking even more irritated than before and like he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself, huffed out a breath of air and walked towards the cupboard with the glasses and cups, muttering something about him being “way to fuckin’ tired for this shit right now”. 

Still a bit stunned, you watched him fill a glass of water under the tab, lean on the counter and chug it. Before he could fill it up again, though, he seemed to notice your stare on him and he side-eyed you. “What.” 

Realizing that you must’ve probably looked even more insane now, you quickly avoided his piercing gaze and turned back to your brownies-in-progress, resuming your previously interrupted task of measuring the flour after muttering a quick “nothing!”

Pressing a few buttons on the scale, you added a quieter “I was just surprised to see someone else up, is all.” 

You grabbed another bowl and set it on the scale, daring to look up at him again, only to find his eyes still focused on you, much to your surprise. Somehow, the feeling of his eyes on you made you feel…nervous. You tried not to let it show and instead busied yourself with your phone, checking the rest of the recipe. Because he did not immediately make the move to head back to his room, you tried to drown out his presence as best as you could. 

Your relationship to Bakugou was…normal, you thought. As far as you were able to tell with his fiery attitude, he didn’t hate you. That was something, you supposed. He didn’t seem too concerned with you; in class when you were teamed up with him or pitted up against him in teams, he seemed to know enough about your quirk in order to form fitting strategies either with or against it, but when the two of you were teamed up there was someone else from class with you pretty much every time so the two of you had never quite been…alone like this, now that you thought about it. 

“The hell you making, anyway?” 

His voice interrupted your thoughts and you turned back to him, still leaned against the counter but his body angled more in your direction.

“Just some brownies for everyone, I thought we could eat them tomorrow after school or something.” Suddenly you had a thought. “I’ll probably just say I made them yesterday or something, they’ll probably think it’s weird I made them in the middle of the night. Like, who just bakes brownies instead of sleeping, right?”, you let out a nervous laugh at that. 

He stayed silent at that, leaving you to wallow in slight embarrassment, mulling over how you would explain to your classmates where the batch of brownies had magically appeared from. Was there a student with a brownie quirk at U.A.?

“You’re a dumbass.” 

“Huh?” You looked back up at him dumbfounded, eyes having unfocused with your internal chaotic monologue.

He rolled his eyes and walked past you, the scent of his cologne drifting past you in a wave of sandalwood and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. It smelled good. Not that it mattered.

“I said, you’re a dumbass.” Now on your other side, he grabbed the knife and cutting board with the chocolate you had prepared and started chopping.

“Wha-“, you cut yourself off, having to shake your head in order to process what was going on. “What are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like I’m doing? Cuttin’ your dumb chocolate for your dumb brownies or whatever,” he shot you a dirty look.

You wanted to argue that neither the chocolate nor the brownies were ‘dumb’, but you held yourself back. Instead, you rephrased the question because technically he had answered it. “Why are you doing that?”

He tch-ed. “Because it’s fucking late and we got team exercise tomorrow and I ain’t losin’ because some teammate of mine was too tired!” His brows were furrowed now and he was chopping faster, the chunks decreasing in size at an almost alarming rate. 

You stopped short. “There’s no guarantee for me being in your team, though.”

“What’d you say?”

“Huh? Uh, nothing, nothing.”

Choosing not to argue with him about his…peculiar way of talking, you watched him cut the chocolate. The pieces were pretty small now, however you figured it would be useless to tell him to stop at this point. Instead, you continued working on the batter, mixing the flour and cocoa powder into the bowl with the eggs, sugar and butter. A sort of comfortable silence settled over the two of you, the crunching of the chocolate under the knife and the whisk scraping the sides of the bowl somehow added to the atmosphere. 

After a while of whisking and spacing out you realized that you could no longer hear the chocolate being cut, so you turned to your right to see Bakugou rinsing off the knife in the sink. Your eyes then drifted to the cutting board where you beheld…chocolate…powder.

What in the-

You snorted. Before you could stop yourself, your whole body was shaken with giggles and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Bakugou’s head snapped towards you, his face contorted into an irritated frown.

“What the fuck?”, seemingly more irritated with each word, he got louder. “What’s so funny, huh?” Dropping the knife in the sink and drying his hands on a kitchen towel which was unceremoniously thrown somewhere on the counter, he walked so he was standing right in front of you. 

“Shhh”, you managed between giggles, “you’re being too loud!” After wiping a tear from your eye and taking another look at his face, where you thought you could see some confusion and maybe uncertainty hidden behind the irritation, you decided to explain the reason for your amusement to him. 

“The chocolate-“, you giggled, “you-“, you pointed towards the now-powder when you broke out into another fit of hushed laughter. 

“The fuck’s wrong with it?” he spat, looking at it for a moment before his eyes snapped back to your face. You failed to notice the tips of his ears reddening as his gaze lingered on your grinning mouth.

He genuinely seemed unaware as to what you were laughing about, so you tried to collect yourself. Taking a deep breath and holding back any more laughter that threatened to escape you, you changed your mind. “You know what? It’s fine.” Grabbing the cutting board, you dumped the powder into the batter and mixed it. “It’s perfect, see?” For better emphasis, you held the bowl so he could look at the contents, not that there was much to notice, but you somehow felt like reassuring him.

He scoffed. “Whatever.”

From the far end of the counter, you grabbed the tray you prepared and poured the batter inside before putting it in the oven, closing the door and setting the temperature. As you straightened your back, it was quiet again and the sudden awkwardness that filled the air made you want to busy your hands with something, so you started cleaning up. 

All the while you were putting back the ingredients to their places in the cupboards, you felt Bakugou’s eyes on you. For some reason, he hadn’t moved from his spot and all of a sudden you were reminded of the pajamas you were currently wearing: checkered blue pajama pants and an oversized, washed-out t-shirt with a character of a children’s TV show and the word SMILE! in bold, glittery letters on the front of the t-shirt. You felt blood rushing to your face and tried to subtly angle your body away from Bakugou. 

After another moment of silence that felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat from behind you. Currently, you were putting away the sugar (the last of your ingredients still standing around – after remembering your outfit you had tried to avoid having to use the cupboard closest to Bakugou) when you stole a glance at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. 

“Don’t-“, he cut himself off, as if he was struggling to find the right words. After a pause of another few seconds, he said, “Don’t think so fucking much.”

“What?”

You turned towards him; ugly shirt forgotten. Out of all the things you’d expected him to say to you – hell, you wouldn’t even have been surprised if he’d just left without saying another word, seeing as you had basically made fun of him for cutting the chocolate weirdly – this wasn’t one of them. You didn’t even know what he meant. 

Bakugou’s brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched.

“It doesn’t matter.”, he said. “When you made the brownies, or whatever. It ain’t any of their business. You baked and they get to eat them, ‘s all they gotta know.”

You were dumbfounded. Staring at him, you searched for a reply, anything to respond, but he beat you to it. 

“Bein’ a hero too, and everything. I see you,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Hesitating. Overthinking. You’re not weak, so what the fuck are you doing?” 

You found it impossible to break the eye contact, his red eyes filled with anger and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. I see you.

He continued. “I’ve seen what you can do. Last week you fucking kicked four villains’ asses alone because they were an immediate danger to surrounding citizens. You acted fast because you knew waiting for backup from pros would have been too late and you immobilized those damn fuckers with a move that could’ve hurt the civilians if you were some extra without proper control over your quirk. But you aren’t. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. You have a strong quirk and unlike some other extras here,” his eyes narrowed at that, “you actually know how to use it. So do it. To win.”

To say you were shocked silent was putting it lightly. For a few moments after he was done talking, all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and you hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. At your expression, he seemed to realize the impact of his words at least a little bit. 

“Ah, shit- I didn’t mean-“ He slapped one hand over his mouth. You think you heard a muffled “fucking idiot”, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

In the meantime, you had somehow managed to regain a little bit of your composure to finally respond to him, albeit you were still stuttering a bit.

“Uhh, you-” Suddenly it was very hard to look him in the eyes. “I never knew you paid so much attention to me.”

That sent him over the edge. “What?!” Stumbling backwards, his expression contorted with some of his usual anger, but you could sense there was something more behind it. Embarrassment, maybe? You didn’t miss the way his eyes were darting around the room nervously, now anywhere but on you or how his cheeks seemed to just slightly redden in color, but you might have been imagining it, of course. 

Suddenly curious, you stepped forward. Untouchable, closed-off, self-centered Bakugou had just given you an extremely personal (and accurate) pep talk. He had read you like an open book, and although you’d known he was intelligent, somehow this hadn’t felt all that analytical and more…emotional.

Taking another step towards him and trying to fight the smile from coming onto your face, you whispered, “You’re being loud again, Bakugou.” After a pause, you got serious, “But, thanks, I guess. Hearing something like that coming from you means a lot to me.” 

At that, he regained his composure, narrowing his eyes. “Just stating the obvious. The only thing holding you back is yourself, it’s stupid.”

Wow, so much for some comforting words. You let out a breath of amusement, shaking your head, gaze travelling to the clock by the door. 

“Oh wow, it’s already two.”

At your words, Bakugou’s head also lifted towards the clock. “How long do these things take to bake, anyways?”

“Like, 20 minutes, I think. I better finish cleaning up, wouldn’t want to have to stay up much longer.” As you grabbed the dishes you had used, you realized something. “Hey, I’m not keeping you up, am I? I didn’t mean to make you stay here just because I started talking to you or anything.”

“You’re not doing shit.” Before you realized what he was doing, he grabbed two bowls from your hands and put them in the dishwasher. 

“Wha-”

“I told you you’re gonna be fucking tired tomorrow, so don’t complain.” He was facing away from you now, fishing the knife out from the dink and finishing cleaning it off.

You just stood there with your hands still in front of you from when he had taken the bowls, mouth opened in a slight gasp. 

When he noticed your silence, he turned around. “Stop standing around like some idiot, you wanna stay here until everyone else wakes up, or what?”

That woke you up from your stupor. He was right, you had already lost enough sleep time as it was, although even as you wiped the counters and took a look at the brownies in the oven, you were still wondering what was motivating Bakugou to stay up and even help you clean the kitchen. Especially knowing how particular he was about his own sleep schedule.

When you were finished, you took a look around the kitchen, checking for anything you might have missed. Satisfied when you couldn’t find anything, you turned to Bakugou, who was putting away his glass of water.

“Thanks,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. Him putting away the glass probably meant he would be going back to bed now, but you weren’t sure what to say. ‘Sleep well’? Internally, you laughed at yourself, picturing him counting fluffy little sheep.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He started walking towards the door, pausing once in the doorway. “Don’t stay up too long, [name].” And with that, he was gone. 

For seemingly the twentieth time this night, you were stunned silent. He had called you by your name. He hadn’t said ‘idiot’, ‘nerd’, or anything like that. He had said ‘[name]’. 

His words replayed in your mind over and over, until you remembered that the brownies were probably almost done now. You had to force yourself to move from your position, holding your hands to your cheeks in a futile attempt to cool down the blush that had formed on your face.

The next couple of minutes passed by in a haze, and before you knew it, you were lying in your bed again, having put the finished brownies in a box in the kitchen, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed by everyone immediately. 

“What just happened?”

You found yourself staring at the ceiling again, still hearing his voice at the back of your mind. It seemed your plan to bake some brownies and then to hopefully have an easier time falling asleep was not working out the way you had envisioned. 

“Ugh, freaking Bakugou,” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. You remained like that for some time longer, before turning to lay on your side. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm your raging heartbeat, and closed your eyes.

Sleep finally embraced you, and you slept without interruptions for the rest of the night.

BONUS:

The next day, the class was gathered at Ground Beta and preparing for the already announced group exercise by drawing lots. You were one of the only ones left who hadn’t been assigned a team yet. As your name was called, you walked to the box with the lots in it and pulled a slip of paper out.

“You’re in team C, which makes that team complete.”, Mr. Aizawa said, although you weren’t really listening, frozen in place because if you remembered correctly, team C was-

“[name].”

Your head snapped to the owner of the voice, who was none other than Bakugou. Because of course.

“[name]. You gonna stand there all day? Get over here.”

He was using your name again and you found that it made operating like a normal person quite difficult. Your body moving in the direction of your team felt almost robotic; as you tried to avoid his gaze, you nearly stumbled over your own two feet. That woke you up from your stupor, and you mentally slapped yourself for acting like such an idiot.

“I fucking knew it. Because you didn’t sleep, you’re tripping over nothing like some dumbass,” he rolled his eyes. “I fucking told ya not to stay up so long, should’ve listened to me.” 

Now you were blushing furiously and you were pretty sure your heartbeat could be heard all the way back in the classrooms, but before you could think of something to say to him, Kirishima, who was another one of your teammates, cut in. 

“What? Dude, hold on! You were with [name] last night?” The redhead looked at his friend incredulously.

You were pretty sure you saw a vein popping on Bakugou’s temple as he yelled, “Ain’t none of your business, shitty hair, nobody asked for your opinion!”

Your mouth fell open. What a way to make this sound absolutely not weird.

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima laughed, holding his hands up in mock defence and shooting you a not-so-sly wink over his shoulder. “I won’t ask, man. I won’t ask.” 

Oh god. 

While Bakugou yelled some more about how that was not what he meant with some tiny explosions coming out of his palm, you pinched the bridge of your nose, already wondering how you got yourself in this ridiculous situation.

[romancingdaffodils]

Pictures and portraits

ARTIST!WILBUR U MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME I AM UR BIGGEST FAN

sort of out of character wilbur but it’s okaayyyyy

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

they r gonna be so cute just u wait JUST U WAIT.

NAMED BY JADE !!!!!

2.1k words let’s go raahhhh

Wilbur was perched on the edge of a bench. Leaning forward, tilting his head and moving his legs, he was trying to get the perfect angle. A new painting. A gorgeous willow tree hunched over a deep green pond, the long hair like branches tickling the surface of the water. His sketch was going okay, it was the first time he had experienced true motivation in months. All was well until an oblivious passer by stopped right in front of him. He groaned, not loud enough for you to hear, but loud enough to voice his own frustration. However, what he hadn’t realised was the depth you added to his new piece. A person, who he had to admit looked very sweet, stood examining the same beauty he had seen. He was no longer angry. He began rapidly sketching, it wasn’t quite right to draw a stranger. However, he pushed that to the back of his mind; he’d go over and ask you once he’d finished this. He didn’t need to move, you simply came to him after about 20 minutes. Unaware of his plan, you strolled over the bench to check the pictures you had taken. Nodding at Wilbur, you silently asked ‘am i alright to sit here’. He nodded in return, allowing you to do whatever before he spoke. Quickly, you checked the pictures you had taken. A few had been on a disposable and the rest on your actual camera. Deleting any that weren’t from the right angle, you looked over to Wilbur as you heard him clear your throat.

“Photography?” he said, looking back at you. He gave you a small smile, but he was still trying to figure out how to ask if it was okay he had included you in his art.

“Yeah! You’re an artist?” you replied, gesturing to the pad in his hand. You returned his smile, turning your whole body to face him as you spoke.

“That’s right. Actually, you stepped in just as I was sketching. I hope you don’t mind.” Wilbur quickly turned around the pad as he spoke, revealing the sketch. It was so gorgeous. You looked beautiful, the rough pencil drawing had complimented you more than any camera. You were stood in the centre of the drawing, he had captured you at a 3/4 angle. The disposable camera was visible in your hand, and some how he had managed to enhance your feature’s charm by 1000. Not to mention the immense detail in the background, how perfectly he had captured the scene. You were in complete awe. How could one person have such talent?

“I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all, it’s gorgeous.” you continued to stare at the piece, your eyes only left to look up at Wilbur. “Oh, I don’t know your name. I’m y/n, wow. I cant believe you, like, made that. It’s so pretty, you made me so pretty.” you added, going off on a slight tangent after introducing yourself. You couldn’t help it, the sketch was just too incredible.

“I’m glad you like it.” he responded, his eyes not leaving your bewitched face. “Wilbur,” letting out a soft laugh, he looked down at the pad. He wasn’t sure what had you so hooked, but he was glad. It was good. You had made it so much better.

“Wilbur is a nice name. Are you going to paint it? Or?” you said, finally drawing your attention away from his art. You looked at him, giving him a big smile.

He couldn’t help but return the smile, looking down at you. “Thank you. Yeah, I’m going to paint it. Actually, I’d quite like to take it home. Would you mind, giving me your number or something? I can show you progress. I mean, only if you want to. Maybe so you could send me the pictures you took, so I can get the colouring right. Again, only if you want to.” he was a little proud of his cover up, he just really, really wanted your number.

You had practically started glowing as you reached down for your phone, you showed him your number. “I don’t know it off by heart, sorry.” you said, laughing slightly “And, of course I’ll send over the pictures. I’d be happy to help, you’re so talented.”

He nodded his head, in an attempt to distract himself from your constant compliments. He also retrieved his own phone from his pocket, he typed in your number and sending a quick text to check he had it right. The notification popped up and he smiled, content with successfully having your number. You had returned to admiring the art, eyes flicking between him and the sketch pad.

“You like it that much, huh?” Wil said, tilting his head as he kept looking at you. He couldn’t understand why someone liked his work so much, not that he was complaining.

“You make everything seem so irresistible. You see the world beautifully. How are you able to: capture everything through drawing it’s so incredible?” you sit back after subconsciously leaning closer to get a better look at this piece, and Wilbur. You wouldn’t admit that though.

“I’m not sure, if I’m being quite honest. I’ve been struggling for motivation recently, hated everything I painted, and sketched. So, thank you, for walking into my view because I don’t think I could ever hate this one. Even if I royally fucked it up.” he watched you move back; he sat the sketchbook back in his lap. His eyes flicked around the view he originally had, making sure everything was perfect in his sketch. You almost scream, he doesn’t hate it because you’re there. “Well, I think it’s perfect. Especially the background, you must’ve been here for hours.” you replied, looking back at your camera. Not the disposable, the professional camera you’d spent your life’s savings on. You pick out the best of the pictures and turn to show Wilbur, “How’s this?” you asked, looking over at him.

“Perfect. Thank you. Would you like to go for a walk? I need to stretch my legs. I have been here for hours.” he offered, placing all of his equipment into his bag.

“Yeah, sure.” you replied, pulling your camera over your head and the disposable into your pocket. Your phone was safely tucked in your other pocket, your phone that now had Wilbur’s number saved in it.

He stood up, then offered out his hand to help you stand. He felt a bit stupid, but kept his hand out. You took it as you stood. You looked at him, looked up at him. “Christ, you’re tall.” you laughed lightly as you spoke, shaking your head.

“I get that a lot. 6’6” he said, smiling down at you. He started to walk, his steps far bigger than your own. You picked up the pace to keep up with him, though you didn’t really mind.

“6’6, jesus christ. Sorry. You must get this all the time.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. You’re a photographer? What else do you photograph?” he responded, turning the conversation in a different direction. He craved your voice; he wanted to know you. Slowing down to match your pace, he thought about the way you had complimented his work before. Phrased so beautifully. So genuine. It brought a soft smile to his face.

“I, I work for the newspaper. I go round, and I take pictures whenever I’m wanted. Sometimes I do photoshoots for others - like weddings and stuff, they pay decently. But, I like to take pictures of things I think are pretty. Let me know if you ever want a photoshoot done.” you said, smiling back up at him. Anyone would’ve thought you were a couple, everything felt so natural. You had a feeling Wil would be one of those people you instantly clicked with and would never ever let go. To be honest, from the forty minutes of knowing him, you didn’t want to let go. You’d put across a bit of light flirting, where was the harm. You were semi sure he wouldn’t confront you about it, you were wrong.

“So you think I’m pretty, y/n?” he quipped, his smile had turned into a smirk. He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for your response.

“Um, uh. I-“ you started, quickly being cut off by his soft laughter. “You’re a cunt!” you complained, this caused him keel over with laughter as he kept walking. He shook his head.

“Y’face was a picture. Maybe I’ll paint it.” he joked, turning back to you after his fit of laughter. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re quite pretty too.” he added, eyes boring into the side of your skull.

You were sure you could die in that moment.

“Do you sell your artwork?” you asked, trying to deter the conversation away from the situation. He smiled; he knew exactly what you were doing, but decided he’d go along with it.

“Yeah, I have a little group I’m in. We set up exhibitions, and sell our art. It’s more like a club, we meet up every Wednesday to share our current artwork.” he said, tearing his eyes away from you and looking ahead. He’d probably crash into something if he stared for too long.

“That’s a really cool idea. You make much money?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, I’m kidding. Depends who’s buying, sometimes we bring in a lot. Sometimes we don’t.”

You nodded as he spoke, you understood that. You continued to walk down the gravel path through the park, talking about anything that came to mind. You dreaded the walk coming to an end.

It had been two hours since you met Wilbur, and you were developing the largest crush you’d had since seeing Damon Albarn in the 90s. Your worst fear became a reality, the walk ended. You were stood at the gate to the park, a foot between you. Wil smiled. You smiled.

“It was lovely to meet you, y/n. Can I see you again, tomorrow maybe?” he asked, covering his nerves the best he could. You didn’t notice the way he brushed his knuckles against the palm of his hand. You did notice the little shake in his voice.

“I’d love that. Where do you want to go?” you questioned further, a permanent smile plastered on your face.

“There’s a lovely cafe, not too far away from here. I’ll message you the address. But, is 3 good with you?”

“3 is perfect. I can’t wait.” you said, still beaming up at him. He couldn’t help but return it.

“You’re going to ruin me.” he mumbled to himself, you barely heard it. You tilted your head, obviously confused. He then spoke again, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Bye y/n.”

“Bye Wilbur.”

Neither of you moved, this caused a cacophony of laughter. You pointed and said, “I’m going that way.”

“Let me walk you home.” he replied, he decided he should’ve offered that in the first place.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. You don’t have t-“ you were cut off by him beginning to walk the way you had pointed. You ran a bit to catch up to him, shaking your head. “Rude.” you said, looking up at him.

“Sorry, dove, I won’t walk you home next time. Let you get eaten by a cannibal?” he responded, placing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah? Where’s this cannibal? I’ll fight him off myself.”

“He’s right next to you.” he said, sarcastically.

You feigned shock and placed the back of your hand to your forehead, gasping. “Noo! Please!!!! Don’t eat me?! Where’s my knight in shining armour?! I am but a fair maiden in need of rescue!”

He laughed, you laughed.

“I lied. I won’t eat you. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I’ll be on the look out for being eaten though.”

“Probably for the best.” he said, watching as you turned a corner. He was walking on the outside of the pavement, closest to the road. He felt like a gentleman.

“I hope you’re not going to stalk me now you know where I live.” you said, jokingly. You were admiring him and it was a little obvious, you didn’t mind though.

“No promises.” he joked back, readjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Do you even live anywhere near here?” you asked, turning another corner as you spoke.

“Yeah, not too far.” he wasn’t lying but he wasn’t exactly telling the truth either, it was about a 40 minute walk from where you were walking now. Fortunately, you had made it to your building.

“This is me.” you said, looking up at him as you stood on the step.

“Flat?”

“Yeah. Everything’s way expensive here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow. Good bye y/n.”

“Good bye Wilbur.” you said, waving him off. He waved back before strolling away. You sprinted up to your flat and immediately collapsed on the couch, screaming into a pillow. You had never been so happy.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! One about drawing, another one about Ortho, and then some other TWST ones.

Anonymous asked:

Hello Ryu! I hope you and Katsu are doing well. I wanted to ask you: how do you manage to post daily? what motivates you? I just admire how you manage to post quality content every day, I enjoy everything so much! and another question: how do you fight hand pain? I do draw daily, but I end up with hand/wrist cramps and it's worrying me, what would you recommend? Amazing art as always!

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for your kind words.

I actually talked about our motivation and the ungodly amount of sketches (lol) that I produce here! But in short, I’ve always loved drawing, and I spend the majority of my time drawing. Not everything that we post daily is new stuff: we have a big backlog of sketches, and Katsu helps me to manage it. Since I can focus on drawing and Katsu takes care of posting, it’s actually feels easier.

As for the second question, the most important main thing is PLEASE don’t overwork your hand! The moment you feel wrist cramps, take a break immediately, or if the pain is too much, better stop for the day, even if you really want to continue :( I am lucky to have pretty good stamina when it comes to this, but this is also partially because I stop immediately if I start to feel tired, plus never draw after my lengthy timeslot dedicated to drawing is over.

Here are a couple of more things that could possibly help:

Pay attention to the way you move your arm when you draw. Prioritise moving your elbow and using your entire arm instead of just moving your hand and wrist. Also try not to squeeze your pen too much, as it tends to make muscles tenser, at least in my experience.

Take short breaks every once in a while to stretch and do exercises for your wrist. These work nicely, but I also love to just… not do anything with my hand at all for like 5 minutes, to let muscles relax a bit.

If your muscles are tense after drawing, warming them up also makes it feel better. I just hold my wrist under warm water lol But there are better ways to do it.

Oh, and check if you do something else with your hand that might also put pressure on it during the day. If you use PC, for example, and sit in front of a desk, then your elbow should be on its surface (the reason for that is in my first point of this list), otherwise you strain your wrist muscles with that position. This is just an example, but it might help to find other reasons why your hand can be tired even before you start drawing. If not, that’s also fine! Drawing is hard enough to do that kind of damage on its own.

If nothing helps and you still feel cramps, you should of course talk to your doctor about it. Maybe they’ll have better advice than I do. Please be very careful with your hand, these muscles are not the ones that should feel slightly sore after a workout unlike a bunch of others, this strain (and pain) can do irreversible damage to your hand and should not be treated lightly. It’s better to take frequent breaks and draw later than to lose the ability to draw (and do other everyday things along with it) at all.

Take care of yourself, Anon <3

Anonymous asked:

wow a whole shroudcest ask post!!! kissing each of the askers consensual and platonically on the mouth, i love that y'all in this fandom. also agree, Ortho should use his beams as a treat when not allowed to join mature content that has first years, it makes me really sad for him!! Epel is super small and he gets to join????? sometimes he's even ''aged up'' (and stays short and small, i see that) lmao like what, Ortho can't be aged up too? the double standards are staggering

sometimes i assume he's just hard to draw, it's fair when mecha and armor are difficult for some people and i often see those two in won't draw lists in commissions, but also?? you don't have to draw when writing?? at least in writing, he should show up more, i'm doing my part at least in the orthoreader and orthooc tags on ao3. his crotch being bare is a feature, not a flaw.

(related to this post)

I am so happy and shocked that so many people wrote such long and lovely messages!! Everyone GETS IT…

Yeah, Epel also gets to join all the time, but somehow Ortho isn’t! This absolutely isn’t fair lol He would be super pissed about it.

I agree with you though that it is related to his design. Of course, the majority of people who complain about Ortho don’t even attempt to draw him as they aren’t artists, but I think a lot of aspects of his appearance are somewhat… “off-putting” to them? It feels like it’s a very strong word, but: his height, his “heels”, the waist and crotch parts of his gear, plus he isn’t very manly and ikemen-like, instead his appeal is that he is a cutie and sometimes a “kusogaki” type. This is why some people just don’t like him at all, and some people don’t like him and cover it up by saying “awww nooo he is just a baby, look at him, he is a kid right?”

I am happy you’re providing people with written Ortho-related content, Anon 💪 He would be so proud and grateful!

Anonymous asked:

Your chibi lillia just looks so adorable, he looks so chewable

Hehehe thank youuu!! Please chew on his chibi cheeks.

irregardlessly-tish asked:

Have you seen the new design that was announced? (Trying to keep it vague in case people don't know which character it is, I don't want to ruin the surprise lol) From an artist point of view, what do you think? I was kind of disappointed by it… I'm not sure if it's Yana's design or not, her characters have so much personality but this one looks just… so generic? Love his suit, the glasses are a great touch to represent this character's eyes (orlackthereof) but everything else feels so uninspired in my opinion. I know this is the pretty anime boy villain game but this one is just too much of a pretty anime boy and I hate this fluffy pretty anime boy hair...

I have! And I will spoil it so please don’t read my reply if you don’t want to know who it is lol

To be completely honest, I am not sure what to think yet; I kind of want to see the full design and also to see him in action. He does feel very different from Rollo and Fellow&Gidel, and maybe this is one of the reasons why he might feel underwhelming: those guys have very colourful designs and a lot of accessories, plus somewhat clearer silhouette (Rollo’s hat is iconic, Fellow also has a hat and fox ears, and that makes them very distinct right away), and the new guy… it’s hard to tell yet, but I think it’s kind of difficult to make a skeleton design work on the same level both in terms of his monochrome colour scheme and the fact that he is, in fact, a skeleton-like creature.

I know there are a lot of jokes about Gojo that people make (I am one of those people), and I think that some people aren’t as excited for the new guy because of that (the feeling that we’ve seen him around a lot already, because young!Gojo was everywhere very recently). But I do agree with you: the glasses are indeed a very good touch and a very smart addition design-wise.

I am also personally excited to see Undertaker vibes from him, but that’s personal lol

So yeah, I’m not sure for now. I really want to see more of him before making proper judgment. I absolutely see your point though. I think if he turns out to be a fun character, his design elements will also become fun and enjoyable, just in a different way.

[bobacupcake]

for the game shaders, how about Ghost of Tsushima? unless it's really nothing special

hooo boy

i am not super familiar with hyper realistic graphic shader pipelines ! though there are a few talks on the tech art surrounding it, one on the grass which plays a huge part and one on the wind system which also plays a huge part (and i think a few more paywalled behind gdc vault..)

i went ahead and watched them cause i would pretty much be at a loss otherwise other than being like yeah they are using all the fancy techniques AAA realistic graphic games use

and wow yeah they sure are going wild with it ! generally in the past games rendered grass through a bunch of quads with grass textures on them, sometimes multiple blades per texture so they can get away with there being more grass blades than there actually are. ghost of tsushima renders each blade individually!! at any one time there might be as many as 100k blades of grass waving around. which is a lot!!!

but if theres one things shaders are great at its doing a lot of the same thing at the same time. as long as each blade has access to the same information (the place the grass sprouts from, the direction the wind is blowing in, how tall it is, what kind of grass it is, etc), the shader is essentially one big equation that takes all those values in as inputs, and outputs the correct position and normal every blade of grass should be in, really quickly

to place all that grass, they use something called a compute shader which, i dont feel like i have the authority to properly explain!! but its basically using the GPU do do a bunch of similar calculations at once. essentially using a shader like a giant calculator. and when i say a lot i mean at the first pass of the compute shader, it marks sometimes over 1 million potential grasses to draw. then it manages to cut it down to like 100k by seeing which ones are blocked off + far away. and then passes in all the information each blade of grass needs! and it all happens at the same time in parallel so its incredibly fast. then its just a matter of each blade of grass setting up its vertices and positioning them where they should be based on all the information

and for wind they have a biiig scrolling noise that tells the blades which direction to move. most grass + wind systems do something similar to this

anywys its a lot more in-depth than that but thats the gist of it, the video goes over it in a lot more detail !!