#I don’t know if it’s any good I can’t really draw

[potato-lord-but-not]

Followed you a long time ago for just how cool your art looks, finally decided to look into the podcast characters you like to draw! I just saw one ask asking if the character Oscar is POC, and I wonder are characters in those podcasts usually unclear in ethnicity, and the fandom can freely headcanon? Like I know if info is clearly very mentioned in the original work or there is official concept art then it would be easy, but I'm really scared if I headcanoned something that is completely different from implied canon info I didn't pick up/ info that showed up in an obscure interview. Do you have any advice in navigating information in podcast fandoms?

Usually with podcasts, you can go off of official art and or descriptions from the podcast. In the case of malevolent, hardly any characters, aside from the eldritch monsters that John likes to describe in detail, have a solid description of their looks. that’s why you get so many different variations of Noel and Oscar. Ofc there are context clues that can help you inform your design choices (or just context. like Oscar’s Scottish accent and the Butcher’s Irish accent. he may even have been described as being Irish but idk that’s besides the point, you can tell).

But even then you can play with it, like how I made Oscar mixed Scottish and Jamaican. And honestly! sometimes you can ignore it! like with Gordon from red valley, who I already had a design I liked before he was described as being pale and even implied to look white. but like I said ! you can have fun with it !

I also sometimes check voice actors, because in some instances you can’t tell someone’s ethnicity from their voice alone, and I’d hate to misinterpret their character because I couldn’t pick up on that. that’s more so a concern when the voice actor is POC tho. With malevolent tho it’s all done by Harlan, who is white, so I think headcanoning characters as different ethnicities is more important, and also way more fun.

Oh also! fandom wikis are a good place to double check. cus they’d definitely have something like that you may have missed- like something from an interview or the character’s full name, which can sometimes indicate their ethnicity ( like Parker Yang from malevolent, only shows up as a corpse in the show but important enough to Arthur that he’s still a fan favorite to make content about)

ghugh I’m rambling- I’d say the majority of the time you’re free to do whatever, just be open to change your design if descriptions come up later on (I’d say more importantly if they’re described to be POC, cus like with Gordon I think my design for him with more Afro centric features looks way cooler and feels more like him than anything I could come up with that would be more canon compliant). Also you can go off common fanon designs, but those are just mutually agreed upon and it’s not wrong to go against that. Like with the Magnus Archives there are no official designs and they let the people make whatever designs they please.

OKAY IG TLDR- do what you want, keep your ears open for character descriptions when listening, double check with character wikis or their voice actors, don’t be afraid to make more POC characters even of the cast is played by mostly white people because the more diverse cast the more fun and interesting your art will be.

[ceslatoil]

Ghost Filbrick AU

So a few weeks ago I was in the group chat and I pitched an idea for a fic (not writing it anytime soon, I have enough projects on my plate for now!) and it’s about the Pines family visiting Ma Pines before she moves to an assisted care facility. Main idea is that Dipper and Mabel meet Filbrick’s ghost who is trying to hinder the move, and the family trying to get him to move on. Lots of family drama ensues.

I wrote like, a scrap of a script draft for it if y’all wanna read it below:

(Scene: The grown ups, including CARYN, STAN, FORD and COOPER, MABEL & DIPPER’s dad, are all up playing cards. CARYN pulls out the Tarot Deck)

Caryn: I call this one “Last Man Standing!” You put down a card and the other player has to put down either the same suit or card number. If someone plays a major arcana card like wheel of fortune or the star, they can switch up the minor arcana suit. If you play death or the tower, the other players draw four. Whoever has zero cards wins!

Dad Pines: Grandma I think you just reverse engineered Uno

Stan: Dad wouldn’t buy us more than one card deck, so we made due with Ma’s tarot.

Ford: I thought it was to keep you from cheating the deck

Caryn: Both things could be true! Now hush.

Stan: … Coop is everything all right with Dipper? It’s not my business but… he seemed pretty cagey with ya earlier.

Caryn: Cagey? The kid stormed out of the room in the middle of dinner! Granted it was *my* cooking, so I can’t really hold a grudge on that front. (*plays a card*) That’s The Fool, so we’re reversing direction.

Ford: … It just doesn’t seem like him.

Coop: … that’s been the norm lately, I’m afraid. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce well, with me moving out and I just haven’t been around as much since then.

Ford: Mabel told us in one of her letters you were in family therapy together?

Coop: We’ve had a few sessions, yes. She loved it, got along great with our counselor. I think she asked a few times about becoming a therapist someday! But Dipper doesn’t really participate much during the sessions. He just sulks in the corner, like he doesn’t want to be there at all.

Stan: He’ll get over it. He’s stubborn, but not the type to hold a grudge.

Ford: I can’t imagine any of this is easy for any of you.

Coop: Weirdly enough, me and Annie— uh, Annie and *I*— have gotten on better than ever. Divorce was the best thing to happen to our relationship, it’s like we’re finally friends again?

Stan: Divorce ain’t so bad, I’ve done it at least six times now!

Caryn: I thought about divorcing your father, but he died before I got around to it. Suit change.

Ford: when did Dad pass?

Stan: … ‘97.

Ford: … I see. (*silence*)

Caryn: … Let’s not talk about funerals right now. God knows I’ve been to enough of ‘em. I’m just glad one of ‘em didn’t count. (*pinches Stan’s cheek.*)

Stan: … me too, Ma.

Ford: … Last Man Standing

Stan: Like hell you are, you shit, draw four!

Ford: … that’s not the tower, that’s a Stan Buck!

Caryn: Don’t tell me you’re still making Stan Bucks! You know damn well that’s not how money works!

(This next part is self indulgent and idk if I’ll include it in the fic proper)

Caryn: Now Stanford… let me ask you a question. Why the hell have you been hiding your left hand in your pocket all night?

Ford:…. I don’t know what you mean— HEY!

(Caryn pulls his hand out of his pocket, examines his second ring finger)

Caryn: Stanford Filbrick why does it look like you have a wedding band on your finger?

Ford: …. (*sighs*) because I have a wedding band on my finger.

Caryn: AHA! Here we are moping about death and divorce and you sit on good news like that! Who is she? Who’s your wife? Where’d you meet her, what’s her family like, what does she do?

Ford:… I don’t have a wife. I have a husband.

Stan: The guy used to live in the dump and now he’s a millionaire inventor running for president.

Caryn: You married McGucket?! Me and the girls canvassed for him this year! Wait till I tell that Janine, that’ll get her to pipe down about her Chiropractor Son-In-Law for once!

Coop: I really like his policies on infrastructure, very forward thinking!

Stan: Eh, I’m voting third party. Nothing personal, I just don’t want a brother in law who’s commander in chief. It would make thanksgiving a nightmare.

Ford: You’re a felon, you can’t vote at all.

Stan: That hasn’t stopped me in thirty years!

Ford: So Ma, you’re… fine with—

Caryn: Sweetie, until this morning I thought two of my sons were dead and one cut all ties. I figured I deserved it. Sitting back while your Father gave you all grief for nothin. I told myself if I ever saw you again I’d take you as is, and I meant it.

[stargirlygirl]

their omega

જ⁀➴ chapter nine: ruined leggings

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — nsfw, handjob + blowjob, kinda femdom, kiri's rutting, bit of a blood kink, emphasis on consent and boundaries, smau + fic, 4.2k words

m.list

a/n: texts to eiji from your pov + '🌽⭐���s' gc from denki's pov + on my femdom campaign + no, omega's aren't like snakes + reader mentions stress around maintaining her appearance

fic underneath smau

also i give zero fucks about how humungous his cock is like… idfc if it’s the girth of a soda can and the length of a truck. i don’t need it that big and i don’t think that's a topic i’ll really be discussing unless the fic is specifically focused on size kink. average cocks are okay ladies and twinks and everyone in-between!

You’re at the grocery store in the snack aisle. Eijiro pushes the shopping cart as all real men do. He stands behind you as you look at all the snacks on the shelf.

You turn to gaze at him and say, “There’s so many. Which ones do you wanna get?”

“Get whichever you like, baby,” he says as he smiles at you gently. You nod and turn back around, focusing on your snack selection. Somehow, the household has already finished the bajillion boxes of pocky Hanta bought for you during his rut. So, you grab a couple of boxes of your favourite flavours and some others you know the boys like. You walk down the aisle, searching for anything familiar.

Eijiro watches as you pick up a bag of rice crackers and turn them over. He finds your curiosity heart-warming. It makes him relax, and he gets lost in his admiration of you.

And, of course, his rut is not making it any better. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, hold you tight, and not let you go until everything returns to normal. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn’t realise you’re calling out to him until you rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Eiji,” you pout. “Everything okay?” He stares at you dumbly, seeming to wake up from his daze.

He nods frantically and stutters, “Y-yea yea baby, I’m fine. Is that all you want?” You hum in response and walk down the aisle. His red eyes latch onto the holy sight of your rounded buns in those leggings. It makes him gulp nervously. He tries to tear his gaze away, but he can’t. Not when you’re walking so far in front of him, looking so delicious.

When you get to the checkout, you start piling the snacks onto the conveyor belt. As you bend over to reach your pocky, Eijiro looks down. He swears he doesn’t mean to! But good lords, does he need to get out of this grocery store and get you out of those leggings.

You put your pocky on the belt as it moves and greet the shop assistant. You look back at your alpha as he stiffly pays for the snacks and grabs the bags, not letting you carry a single one, of course.

On the ride home, he’s very quiet. Once you pull up to your home, you notice how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel from his white knuckles. He turns off the engine and just before he gets out, you place a hand on his bicep.

“Eijiro,” you say gently. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you feeling alright?” He glares at the dashboard with a tense jaw. He’s clenching it so hard you can see the veins popping out. You lean over to place your other hand on his cheek but he grabs your wrist mid-air.

He turns his head rigidly and says through tight teeth, “Please, y/n. I’m fine.” You whine at his harsh-sounding words. You nod and draw your hands back, getting out of the car. The boot pops open and you walk to the back of the car. You lift one of the shopping bags out but Eijiro’s already beside you, prying it from your hands.

“Go inside,” he says coldly. Much more coldly than he intended to. You hum-whine in response and let go of the bag. You power walk up the driveway, eager to give him some space. As you step inside, you kick off your sneakers and run up to the entrance hall. You head to the bathroom and freshen yourself up before going to the kitchen.

Entering, you see Eijiro putting the snacks away. You come behind him and help him unpack the snacks. He gazes at you with a creased brow and tight jaw every so often. Because, unfortunately for him, you’re still in your activewear. It only takes dropping a box of choco pies and you bending over temptingly to pick them up, which drives him over the edge. He snatches the box from your hands and throws it off to the side.

You squeal as he grabs your hips and pulls you into him, smashing his lips on yours. You cup his cheeks and arch your back as his thick, muscular arm encircles your waist. His other hand captures the squishy flesh of your ass. You moan into his lips as he presses his body firmly to yours, his erection flush against your lower tummy.

His sharp teeth graze your bottom lip and gently nip at it, causing you to moan louder. You melt into his hold as his tongue pries your mouth open and takes ownership of it. You move to his rhythm, however he wants it.

The way he dominates you… you know that he’ll keep you safe and make you feel good. Your fingers slip into his gelled-up hair and mess up the locks at the back of his neck. You mewl his name into his lips as both of his hands squeeze your ass.

You’re breathless by the time he pulls away. Spit connects your lips, making your alpha grin as the little strings snap. You look up at him with big eyes as you pant. He licks his lips and gently kisses you from the corner of your mouth to your hairline.

He whispers, “Sorry, baby. I just—”

You cut him off with a hum. “No,” you breathe out. “It’s okay. I understand.” You smile as you brush your nose against his ear lovingly.

He chuckles low in your ear, “No, baby. I don’t think you understand.”

You hum and challenge him, “What don’t I understand?” You pull back so that you can see his face. With his eyes on you, you look down, gesturing to the bulge pressing into you.

He clears his throat and says, “What you don’t understand is that you shouldn’t wear these tight fuckin’ leggings when I’m rutting. I’m like a fuckin’ predator, right now.”

You giggle, “Tell me something I don’t know.” You tilt your head to the side sweetly, encouraging him to go on. Eijiro looks away from you and takes a deep breath. As his kind eyes settle on yours again, he leans down and presses his lips back on yours.

This time, you kiss tamely. His large hands have finally moved on from your ass cheeks (for now); one now cups the back of your neck while the other rests between your shoulder blades. You moan as he has another soft nibble on your lower lip. The feeling of his sharp teeth biting down into your flesh like that unleashes something primitive within you. A desire that could be yours, or exist solely because you’re an omega.

As the flesh rebounds from his nip, you pull away. Lips ghosting his, you whisper, “Please, do that again.” No further instruction is needed as Eijiro kisses you and bites your lower lip once more. This time, he bites a little bit harder. At the pressure, you moan and grip onto his locks, pulling his head back slightly.

With a groan, he pulls back. His strong hands trail down to your hips and grip them tightly. He draws you impossibly closer so that your forehead rests against the crook of his neck. He lightly kisses the shell of your ear before nibbling down on it. The sensations have you mewling in his hold as his teeth pull on your earlobe before letting it go.

He whispers, “Need you so fuckin’ bad, babygirl.” You hum below his ear. He continues with desperation lacing his voice, “Can I?”

“Can you what?” You mumble into his skin. He sighs and squeezes your hips extra tight. You squeal at the tightness of his grip, calling his name. He lets go and gently rubs your sides up and down.

“Can I have you? Right here, right now?” He asks low as he sways your hips. You don’t respond for a little. As you think, you rest the side of your head down while your hands release his hair and wrap around his shoulders. You can hear the thumping of his heartbeat and feel the eternal heat of his body. You sigh into his embrace, moulding further to his solid frame.

At last, you say quietly, “It depends on what you want. And besides, we’re in the kitchen. Anyone could walk in right now.”

Eijiro chuckles, “They won’t. Well—” He shrugs. “Maybe Denki will. But the others will be repelled, trust me.” You laugh and lift your head off his pec.

“So,” you say as you raise an eyebrow. “What do you want from me?” He grumbles at your words and shakes his head.

He says low, “It’s not a transaction, sweetheart—”

You hum and chime in, “Of course not! I just mean, what would you like to do together?” He groans and thumbs the delicate skin over your cheekbone. He leans down and kisses the spot softly like you’re made of porcelain.

He draws back and says, “Honestly, I wanna bend you over that bench and have my way with you.” He nods to the side, signalling to the kitchen bench. You hum in response.

You take a deep breath in and say, “I don’t really feel like doing that right now.” And it’s true. With how worked up Denki had you just a few days ago, you were not ready for a part two to that. And definitely not one that involved penetrative sex.

Eijiro tries to hide his disappointment, but you feel the slump of his shoulders and see the velvety pink coating his cheeks. You cup his cheeks and pull his forehead down to yours. You close your eyes and enjoy having him close for a moment before breaking the silence, “But I’m happy to do other things like pleasure you.” He hums low.

“And I want you to mark me if you want to?” You say smiling. Your alpha pulls back and nods.

He kisses your forehead and sighs into your skin, “’Course I want to, babe. Is it really okay though, if we just focus on me?” You hum and nod. You smile wide and press a soft kiss to his lips.

You whisper sweetly, “I’d like nothing more.” Your alpha draws you into a passionate kiss. Your hands roam each other’s bodies as he pushes you back against the kitchen bench. You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours.

Soon, his lips are trailing down your jaw and neck. You bite the side of your lip as he nibbles on your soft skin. It drives you insane with how good it feels. Who knew you’d enjoy his sharp teeth marking you up like this? Your hands grip his shoulders as he sucks a particularly brutal hickey among the constellations left by your whimpering blond. You sigh with pleasure.

Eijiro’s lips brush over your freshly healed mark, and you moan. He drags his tongue across your neck just above the scar, making you squeal excitedly. He nips at the side, relishing in the sound of your pleasure.

Finally, he bites down to mark you. The squelching sound of his razor-sharp teeth piercing your skin has you screaming out in pain. And then, you moan in ecstasy. Your blood overflows and drips down his chin as he quickly pulls away. Your alpha licks his lips quickly before licking your bleeding wound. You chew on your bottom lip as you attempt to stay quiet.

Every lap of that metallic-tasting substance has you gazing at the heavens above. You’re so close. Just one more and you’ll be mated to all of your alphas.

Once your blood begins to clot, Eijiro stops licking and sucking on your mark. He gazes into your eyes and cups your cheeks, whispering to you how well you’re doing right now. You giggle and wipe off the streaks of blood staining his chin and neck.

“Here,” he grunts. He pulls off his shirt and wipes your hands with it (he’s such a fucking gentleman arf arf arf). Tossing it to the side, he asks, “You alright, sweetheart?” You hum and nod as a grin stretches across your lips. You press your forehead to his and you two take a moment to breathe.

His chest heaves with yours as he wraps his arms tight around you and pulls you into his embrace. All is quiet while you bask in each other’s presence.

You hum happily and gaze up at your mate. He grins down at you, and you lean up for a short kiss. You can taste your blood lingering on his lips. But rather than killing the mood, it only adds to it. Tasting the iron, you moan and swoon into him.

He kisses you in a way that’s so consuming and deep yet so tame; lips and tongue intertwine but don’t force. It’s a mutual kind of kiss where both of you are as hungry yet calm as each other. You both know that you have as long as you’d like to explore one another.

You gently push him back by his chest and say, “It’s my turn, okay?” He caresses your cheek while his brows slightly furrow.

“You sure you��re alright? You okay with doing this?” You nod enthusiastically and place the most tender little kiss on the tip of his nose.

You giggle, “Just relax. I know what I’m doing.” With his hands on your hips, he shifts your bodies so that he’s leaning against the kitchen bench. You smirk and stroke his chest and abs up and down.

You meet his eyes as you say, “Did I ever tell you how much I love your home gym?” He chuckles and kisses your cheek.

“Oh yea?” He mutters into your skin. You laugh and lean into him for a moment before drawing back. You stretch up and kiss his sharp jaw, your lips setting his skin on fire. He groans as you kiss down his Adam’s apple and suck on the tip of his collarbone. The little choked-up noises he makes for you make you grin all cocky.

You suck on the spot right below his ear, making him moan. Your hands glide down his firm abs one last time before you grip the waistband of his sweats. He grunts pathetically as you bite his neck harshly while your hand dips and grabs his stiff cock through his briefs.

You moan against his neck as you feel just how fucking hard and leaky his cock is for you right now. You’re embarrassed to admit it, but you love having these very attractive men whining like whores just for you (or is that just me😁).

You slide your hand up and down Eijiro’s length while you continue sucking hickeys all over him. Once you’re content with how purple his neck and shoulders are going to be tomorrow, you get down on your knees. You pull down his sweatpants and squeal as you see his bulge through those dreadful briefs. But you wanna keep them on for now.

Sucking in your bottom lip, you trace the outline of his heavy cock with your fingertips. He whimpers like the little slut he is as you apply pressure to his tip. You continue stroking him through his briefs until he bucks his hips into your hands, desperate for more friction. You remove your hands from him and pull off his your hoodie. You gaze up at him as you unclasp the hooks of your sports bra and slide it down your arms, releasing your breasts.

Your mate groans as you take off his boxers and throw them in a heap with your other clothes. You moan as you gaze at his dripping cock. He’s leaking so much pre-cum, and his head is so red and angry-looking. And his balls look so heavy. You cup them in one hand while your other hand grabs his tip. You squeeze the head of his cock as you lean in and suck on one of his balls.

Seeing you on your knees like this for him has Eijiro groaning and subconsciously clenching the edge of the kitchen bench. You take his other ball in your mouth before pulling back and spitting on his cock.

Grinning, you mix the pre-cum and spit and spread it down his shaft. Once you’re satisfied, you start jerking him off with both hands. Such rouses a delightful array of sounds from your mate.

You look up at him as you say, “Do you like that, baby? Want me to go faster?” He groans and bites his lip as his crimson eyes gaze into yours.

“F-feels so good, princess. Just k-keep doing that for me,” he grunts. You hum in response and continue your pace.

If you’re being honest, the sight of his weeping cock and the sounds of his pants and groans make your panties pool with slick. Right now, his pleasure is everything to you. You’d do anything to keep him moaning and spilling pre-cum. As long as he likes this and feels good, that’s all that matters to you. You do wish though, that you had taken your leggings off before you started jerking him off, as your hands are far too sticky right now to touch anything but your alpha’s cock.

You shift up on your knees and bring his cock to your mouth.

As soon as your lips are wrapped around his leaky tip, Eijiro rasps, “Fuck! Baby, fuck!” Your mouth is so fucking hot and wet it makes his eyes roll back. You suck on the tip before sliding down his shaft.

You take as much of him into your mouth as you can (which admittedly isn’t as much as you thought it would be) before pulling back. With both of your hands wrapped around his base, you bob your head up and down on his cock.

Your mate moans loudly, feeling your searing tongue pressing hard on his underside. The stimulation makes his knees feel weak. But he’s a man, and after resting back on the bench for a minute or two, he stands unsupported on his two feet.

His hands thread into your hair while he praises you, “Such a good fucking girl for me, baby. Taking me so well.” You moan on his cock. The vibrations from your mouth trigger a fresh batch of pre-cum to spill down your throat. Being the good girl that you are, you suck even harder on his cock and gulp down his pre-cum.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “Tryna milk me, aren't cha?” You moan even more around his length, desperate to make him drip even more. He curses as even more of the salty cream spreads across your tastebuds.

You keep sucking him for a couple of minutes before he grunts out, “Fuck, baby! Stop! Stop!” Confused, you immediately stop and pull off his cock. You crane your head up and gaze into his lust-hazy eyes.

You tilt your head to the side and ask, “What’s wrong, Eiji? Did it not feel good or—”

“No,” he cuts you off. You stay quiet as he takes a few deep breaths. As he does, you notice that you’re panting too. You take the time to calm down with him.

“No, baby, you’re perfect. You’re so perfect,” he sighs and smiles down at you. You nod, and he continues, “Just wanna try something else. That okay?” You hum in response.

Eijiro grabs his shaft and motions with his finger for you to come closer. You obey and he slides the tip back between your lips. You suck on it hard and he moans. One hand tangles in your locks and pulls you off his cock.

“Just let me, yea?” He grunts. You hum and take his head back in your mouth. He lets go of his base and curls his other fingers into your hair. Holding your head, he slowly bucks his hips, fucking his cock into your mouth. He pushes in until his balls hit your spit-soaked chin. You choke on his length and gasp, causing him to draw himself out completely.

“You okay, bub?” He says, concerned. His brow is creased as he stares at you with wide eyes. You nod, and he pushes all of your hair back before bringing his hips closer to your face. You grab his cock and guide it into your mouth. This time, he eases most of it into your mouth before drawing back out. And then pushing back in.

Your mate builds up a steady rhythm of fucking your pretty mouth with his cock. You rest your hands on his thighs and focus on breathing through your nose so you don’t choke.

When Eiji’s eyes aren’t on your pouty lips wrapped around his shaft, or rolling to the back of his skull, he’s gazing into your doe eyes. They look so big and innocent, deliciously contrasting the rather unholy things you’re doing to each other right now.

His hips rut faster as he feels that tight coiling in his stomach. He pants and groans as he hits the back of your throat over and over again with the tip of his cock. You moan around him as he keeps fucking your mouth.

Suddenly, he pushes your head down until your nose tickles his neatly trimmed pubes. You choke on his cock, but he pushes his length in slightly more. Your eyes water as you stare up at him, watching his sharp teeth grit. He then fucks your throat with quick, rough, and small thrusts. Your fingers press into his toned thighs as you gag on his cock.

He grunts out between thrusts, “Yea, fuck-baby that’s it. Good girl. Just a little more f’me, yea? Almost there, pretty girl.” You whine on his cock as tears drip down your cheeks.

Eijiro pulls out slightly as his knot swells. At once, you feel his hot seed shoot down the back of your throat. Your squeal is muffled as you pull off his cock and jerk him with your hand.

His cum spills down your chin and chest, and you cover your mouth with your other hand as you cough from the thick cream coating your throat. He groans your name loudly as he watches his cum drip down your beautiful tits and tummy.

By the time you’re jerking those last little dribbles of blazing white seed, you’re absolutely covered in it. Luckily, you’ve stopped coughing and now, you’re just crying a little. With a whine, you stand up.

Your alpha pulls you into his arms. He rubs your back with his wide hands and brings your face to nuzzle into his neck. You hold each other as you both calm down. He gently cups your cheeks and pulls your head back so he can look at you.

He thumbs your under-eyes, wiping away your tears. He then wipes the seed from your lips and chin with his fingers. You laugh sweetly as he looks down at his fingers. You lean forward and brush your nose against his.

“So messy, aren’t you?” You tease him. He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. You moan into his lips and move your hands to his chest, feeling the sticky mess of his cum covering the both of you.

He can taste himself all over your lips and tongue. The saltiness makes him groan. He nips your lower lip just the way you like it, making you mewl.

He draws away and nuzzles your neck, asking softly, “Let me clean you up?” You giggle and rest your head back on his shoulder.

You hum and say, “Okayyyyy. But no fooling around in the shower. Denki’s already tired me out for the next month.”

He chuckles low and grumbles, “Fucker.” He grabs you beneath your knees and carries you across his body.

As he walks to the bathroom, you ask, “But what about the kitchen? I think we made a mess there too.”

Eijiro hums, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, princess. I’ll clean it up after I put you to bed. You must be exhausted.” You nod, noticing how easily he carries you with one hand while he slides the bathroom door open.

You mumble into his warm, tanned skin, “I am. That’s so embarrassing.” He sets you down in the shower and turns on the water.

Shaking his head, your mate says, “No, it’s not. You have to handle all of us. It’s not a surprise you’d be tired.”

You hum, “But I’ve barely done anything.” He steps forward and gestures to your leggings. You bite your lip as you look down, seeing how ruined they are from his cum.

You nod and say, “Yea, go ahead.” Eijiro steps close to you and crouches down, shimmying your leggings down.

As he does, he says, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not used to this yet.” You hum in response while your hands thread through his wet, red-leaking locks.

“Hey Eiji,” you say quietly. He hums as you step out of your leggings. “You owe me a new pair. You know that, right?” He throws them out of the shower in the corner of the bathroom. He then wraps his strong arms around you and draws you under the water with him.

He chuckles above your ear, “Sure do.”

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel @xxdiaqiaoxx @misscaller06 @kksmush @cielito--lindo @kennygou @tnywabbit @ita606 @sweet-apple-acres

[wryuxim]

this has been in my drafts way too long, and again, i suck at writing, but i’ve really needed to say this. how the hell is millionsummers so normalized in the fandom? well i know why, but it’s honestly crazy to me how 90% of the pretty small amount of legato fans in existence ship him with knives. like do you even understand his character? sure if you haven’t read trimax (like too many people) you literally wouldn’t know anything significant about him since he’s just kinda there in the other iterations. all you’d see is evil guy x bootlicker right hand that have minimal interactions with each other. don’t get me wrong, i could get behind that. like it even. but the issue is that there’s more to it than just that. even if you haven’t gotten to legato’s backstory in the manga, it’s clear from the start that the way that knives treats him crosses the line of average evil toxic yaoi bull. like literally the very first time we see them interact knives casually shatters every bone in legato’s body bro. causing irreparable damage and rendering someone a quadriplegic(?) after they were probably trying to get you a new body for the past 7ish years is so romantic, right!! He also just disregards him as a person and is generally shitty and all that which is kinda mean of him to do ngl. yeah you could say erm actually knives does care about legato though, he’s just too much of a stubborn bitch to show it!1!1!!1!! and i agree with that (to an extent, not getting into it though) but like…that doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s literally abusive. and that wasn’t even considering literally everything about legato himself. he was horrifically abused for as long as he could remember. he doesn’t know what a healthy relationship of any kind is. he chose to serve knives (despite being well aware of how he was) because he never knew a life outside of that. he thinks that’s all he’s good for and knows he won’t be anything more to knives, yet still kills himself trying to prove his worth. knives is someone he is unhealthily dependent on who causes him to become more and more self-destructive. just because knives isn’t the same as his previous abusers doesn’t mean it’s not just another shitty situation he fell into. i do think legato’s feelings towards knives could be some sort of crush, but it’s more of a one-sided obsession than anything. to think that it’s an actually good cute little pairing baffles me. i think what i’ve said so far is enough of an argument, but there’s still my main point left. i held back on this till now because of the crazy amount of people say he wasn’t for whatever reason, but legato was a CHILD when they met. like do y’all SERIOUSLY think he’s an adult here??

i really don’t want to pull up panels from his backstory flashback, but you literally cannot convince me. nightow didn’t need to state it outright for it to be pretty obvious that he was a kid. we see how he draws other characters when they were younger as reference so you can clearly see the differences in proportion. i mean just compare it to how he looks throughout the rest of the manga, especially near the end. just because he doesn’t have a confirmed canon age doesn’t mean that there wasn’t an intent there. y’all are grasping at straws to justify it.

also the same applies to elendira (x knives) because of the super secret third legato flashback:

i won’t count this as proof for legato because tristamp (though a separate canon) kinda muddies it, but woah she’s not an adult. also irrelevant but knives was smiling at him 😞😞 i’d like to think he was nice to them at one point but this isn’t about that. the fact that people probably take this to fuel their millionsummers makes me very very sad.

back on topic though, there’s another side of the copium spectrum. i can’t believe i have to say this, but i’ve no joke seen people say that legato and knives were both teenagers when they met as if that makes any damn sense. the twins are both confirmed over 150 years old. in trimax, the july incident happened ten years by the date before the events of the last few volumes (cited in my last post), and legato doesn’t look all that different in the two flashbacks. and the flashbacks or any other evidence i could pull out my ass don’t even actually matter because knives is old as fuck and legato is obviously a normal human age. again, it’s just straw grasping bro so please give up 😭🙏

and if you don’t give a shit and loooove grooming mentally ill teenagers you pick up off the streets then fuck off?? you’re gross and legato would hate your ass. i probably have more to say but i can’t think of anything rn so that’s it for now. millionsummers is cringe and this fandom is a prison. but like a cartoon one where the bars have large enough gaps between them to walk through.

[more-sonorous]

Uh I love going through your channel and reading all of the stories you come up with and I’m amazed and love them. It brings me joy to read them. I don’t know if you take requests I was wondering if you could do one where race has some problems and Jack is the only one who can get him to talk. Thank you!!!

i loved this ask! played around with it a bit and created a piece full of brotherly love that i'm truly hoping is what you were looking for!

have this little slice of life :)

.....

little ray of sun-- racetrack and jack

By all accounts, Jack Kelly had a decent day. He’d spent the morning pissing Pulitzer off by drawing egregious comics all of the other artists found funny, flinging droplets of ink onto the man’s shoes every time he strolled up to his desk, and using the most horrible grammar he could muster. By five, Pulitzer’s jaw was twitching but he had three spectacular political comics staring him down, so he couldn’t complain. Instead he glared up at Jack and a snarl formed beneath his perfectly groomed mustache as he dismissed him for the day.

Pushing old Joe’s buttons was Jack’s favorite work pastime when he worked at The World on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. It always put him in a chipper mood to know that he was one of the most popular artists on Pulitzer’s team, so the old bastard couldn’t really fire him even if he wanted to since people were raving about his comics. He couldn't fire him over little things anyways, like Jack putting his feet up on his desk or wearing a bandana ‘round his neck instead of a tie. He’d gotten good at subtly irking the man without breaking any office rules, and it added a bit of life to his boring office work. When he earned that little jaw twitch? Well, Jack considered the day a win. 

He carefully shelled out a few cents on a pretzel for dinner and finished it on his way back to the Lodgings, brushing the coarse salt off on his trousers and whistling to himself as he walked. At his core, Jack Kelly was a little shit. He enjoyed his little shit moments when he could.

As he dreamed up ways to dramatically retell his office antics for the littlest newsies, he rounded the corner to find Albert’s head of gleamingly red hair perched on the steps leading up to the familiar lodging house. The moment the sarcastic ginger laid eyes on him found him shooting to his feet and practically speedwalking to Jack. 

“Kelly!”

“Yo, Albert.” Jack greeted cheerfully, removing his own hat and pushing a hand through his hair as he took a glance at the distressed expression on the freckled face in front of him. His cheer seemed to slip into nothingness. “Everythin’ okay?”

Half of Albert’s thin mouth curled into a snarl. “No. Obviously it ain’t. It’s fuckin’ Racer, Jack, he’s– he’s doing that thing he does and I dunno what the fuck to do.”

“Ah, shit.” Jack sighed, glancing up at the doors as a spike of worry for his almost-little-brother shot through his chest. Tension coiled through his limbs. “Okay, I’ll handle it–”

“You better, man, because I couldn’t. I even got Crutch and Davey to try. He wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t say a goddamn word to us. Davey’s out collecting bits from the guys to pay for Race’s bunk tonight, and I’m sure he’s gonna get enough, but this can’t happen tomorrow. Racer’s already short on cash–” Despite Albert’s harsh, biting tone, Jack knew the kid well enough to see deeply rooted concern in the furrow of his brow and the tight shrug of his shoulders. He was tense right up to his ears.

“I got it, Albert. Anyone tried getting him to eat yet?” He started a quick jog up the stairs and into the building. Though Jack knew what to do, that didn’t make him any less jittery when things like this happened.

He found himself despising his ‘real job’ because it meant he couldn’t spend mornings here with the boys. If he’d’ve known about Race’s situation sooner, maybe his brother wouldn’t’ve missed out on a day of selling. Jack barely checked in with Kloppman as he thundered up the stairs, Albert trailing behind and talking a mile a minute through a lopsided, thickly accented mouth. His speech might’ve sounded like another language to someone that didn’t know him well.

“Yeah, Crutch’s up there workin’ on dinner. I just dunno what coulda caused this one, Jack, he seemed fine yesterday and he was playin’ poker last night before bed– he seemed fuckin’ normal and now he ain’t even speakin’ to anyone–”

“Well, sometimes there ain’t a reason.” Jack toed open the door to the bunkroom and Albert stumbled to a halt behind him, both of them gazing at the sight of Crutchie murmuring softly to a despondent lump of Racetrack. Other newsies lingered silently around, awkwardly pretending like they weren’t nosy-ly watching the scene in the corner unfold. Jack’s chest squeezed tightly and a soft exhale escaped him, worry and exasperation all in one. “Sometimes he just gets like this. But I’ll figure it out, Al, don’t go all batshit on me.”

The redhead practically growled, proving every stereotype of fiery gingers more than true at that moment. Race would be delighted to know that he had an angry guard dog as a best friend. “I ain’t even close to batshit, Kelly.”

“Well, if that's the case, why don’t’cha help Dave collect donations? Scare the kids into puttin’ a penny in your hat or somethin'.” He swiped Albert’s backwards cap right off his head and held it out with a well-practiced cheeky grin, earning him another sneer. 

Albert snatched his cap back and stormed out of the room, each movement tight and tense with worry. Jack crossed the room in a few strong strides, gently tapping Crutchie on the shoulder. He held a glass of water and a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, both entirely untouched. When Crutch met his eyes, a silent understanding passed between them and like the well oiled machine of brotherhood they were, the boys switched places. Crutchie ruffled Jack’s hair and tucked his crutch beneath his arm, immediately limping off to go clear the stragglers out of the room.

Jack pushed a hand through Race’s head of fair hair and glanced over his expression– tight with sadness, blue eyes staring straight ahead. “Mornin’, buddy.”

Racer closed his eyes at the sound of Jack’s voice, which he took to be a good sign as he ran his fingers through his brother’s tangled hair. Jack's skin seemed darker than usual against the light coils of Race’s dirty hair, matted and tangled. “Rough day today?”

As expected, Jack didn’t receive a response. He carefully set the sandwich and water aside and tugged his fingers through Race’s hair. It wasn’t very intimate or sweet as it might’ve been with someone like Dave or Kath, because Race was a proper mess and his hair was beyond tangled. Jack worked the kinks out and watched his nose wrinkle and twitch, upper lip curling every so often as a reminder that he was cognitive and alive and feeling something, still. 

“Everybody’s worried about you.” Jack started, trying not to betray just how deep that worry was. This wasn’t the first time– far from it– but that didn’t make it any less scary. “I am too, a’course. Wish I woulda been there for you this morning, buddy, but Bastard Old Joe would fire me if I was any more than a minute late to his shitty office. Still, ‘m here now. Want’cha to talk to me, if that’s appealing at all. You gotta talk to someone, after all, or Albert’s gonna get so mad his head’ll turn as red as his hair. Then he’ll explode or some shit, I dunno.”

Jack knew this side of Race like the back of his hand. He remembered countless days in their shared past when Race would wake up just the same as he was now, glued to the sheets and subdued and silent, remaining still and motionless for as long as possible. The impossibly impish trickster he normally was would disappear beneath lumps of thin quilt and stony silence would take over in its wake, turning Racer into someone unresponsive and lethargic. Jack had a hunch that it was because of the constant motion Racetrack was in. Always with a smirk or a stinging quip, running betting circles and poker games and puffing cigars. Full of biting sarcasm, mind racing a mile a minute, bright as a star with nowhere to shine. An engine constantly chugging along, overheating until the point of exhaustion. Breakdown. That was whatever this was– the point where he chugged to a sudden halt and collapsed, withdrawn and almost unreachable. 

It happened once or twice a year, almost always in the bleak, dark, wintry months. Sometimes Race would spring out of bed the next morning, chipper like nothing ever happened. One time, when they were around ten and twelve, he was stuck in bed for a week. Jack wasn’t about to let that happen again.

“You don’t want Alfred to explode, do you? We’ll hafta find another token ginger…”

“No.” Race croaked, finally responding to the subtle joking that always drew him out of his shell. 

That’s what Jack had figured out– gentle touches, lighthearted mood, quips and teases. It took that. He didn’t respond well to Crutchie’s optimistic mothering or Albert’s intense pushing. Jack could picture Davey in all of his awkward loveliness trying to sternly coach Race out of the bed with false logical positives, like he was waking Les up and trying to get him dressed for the day. No, Jack knew Race, and he knew that Race responded to the feeling that he hadn’t done anything wrong. That things were normal.

“That’s what I thought.” Jack responded, with the same calm cheer coloring his tone. “Now c’mon, you can’t let me have better hair than you for a whole day. You wanna get up? Have a bite of dinner? Looks like someone got you somethin' from Jacobi’s…”

After a moment of silence, Racetrack weakly shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “Can’t.”

“Can’t get up, that’s okay. I ain’t gonna make you.” He parroted, gently pulling his fingers through Race’s separated curls. “I would like it if you’d talk to me, though. So’s I can get a good night’s sleep, knowin’ what’s on your mind. I know you like torturin’ me but I sorta need my rest…”

The blonde let out a quiet snort, the motion jerking the blankets he held clutched to his chest. Jack couldn’t help his own smile at the transformation in the younger boy’s expression. He seemed to soften around the edges, with a little exhale that spelled progress. “Can’t deprive the great President of his beauty sleep… How’s he gonna sell papes without his pretty boy face?”

“That’s the problem– I need my pretty boy face. It’s the only thing I got goin’ for me.” Jack joked back with practiced ease, like everything was fine and Race wasn’t having one of his bad days. It was good, and it worked, because Racer snorted again.

In one shift of obviously difficult motion, Racetrack rolled onto his back and stared up at the wood holding up the bunk above them. Jack placed a careful hand on his shoulder and went still, waiting patiently. He could see Race’s mind moving behind intelligent blue eyes, the dart of his irises and the wrinkle of his nose as he thought. Sorting through his thoughts. Analyzing. A mathematician's brain, not at all like Jack’s artist brain or Davey’s literature brain or Kath’s journalist brain. Solving a problem. Race was a skeleton of problems and solutions wrapped in skin with a trickster’s smile. He was missing one of his pieces in that bed, because half of his face was occupied by an uncharacteristic frown. 

Finally, he spoke. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about what the fuck I’m gonna do after this.”

“After what?” Jack tried to put the pieces together, but he’d never been good at solving Race’s cryptic riddles. “When you get outta bed?”

“No. After all’a this.” He muttered, throwing one hand up as if gesturing to the entire bunkroom. “I got nothin’ planned. Once I’m eighteen and Klop gives me the boot, I’m done.”

Oh. Jack knew this rabbit hole of thought all too well. The cause of Race’s spiral was one that had caused him many spirals of his own, and it probably did the same for almost every newsboy that came before them. “You ain’t done. You basically got two years to figure shit out, man. Plus, you’se smart as a whip. Anybody would kill to have you workin’ for them if they knew how your brain worked.”

“Yeah, but they don’t, and since my Ma had to go and fuckin’ die on me, I ain’t got no schoolin’ to show for it. No proof.” He muttered, dragging his hands over his face. “I hit eighteen and boom, I’m on the streets. My Pa’s gonna want me to join his fuckin’ gang and I can’t do that, Jack, I swear to God–”

“You don’t hafta join any gang, Race, we’ll find you some other job. Stuff comes up when you least expect it. You gotta look at the good and the bad.” Jack reassured, carefully squeezing Race’s shoulder.

He sighed, hard and long. “Well sometimes it don’t feel like there’s any good.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Jack responded, even though he knew the feeling far too well. Before Pulitzer miraculously offered that job, he’d been thinking the same thoughts. Now he was staring down the barrel of a secure future where he worked full time as an artist for the paper. It had all been pure luck. Chance. How was he supposed to explain that sorta thing? “I hear you, but you might not be lookin’ in the right places. Listen– we’ll get Davey on the job hunt with us. I’m sure he knows a couple places that are hiring. You can get in early, start up part time like me, work your way up. By the time you’se eighteen, you’se set.”

“Okay.” Race breathed, eyes fluttering shut. “Okay, that… that sounds okay.”

“Yeah?”

A tiny nod, a jostling of blonde curls. Jack let out a sigh of relief as Race finally pushed himself to sit up, rubbing his hands over his face. Every movement seemed like he was pushing through a sea of syrupy fatigue, fighting his own body to get things working again. Jack rubbed his back through it all– though he’d never experienced this sort of thing, Race had been through it more times than he could count, and it looked the same every time. Painful, difficult, but a surefire show of Racetrack’s incredible determination.

After a moment, he twisted awkwardly and lurched into Jack’s arms, wrapping him in a messy embrace. “Thanks, Jackie.”

“Don’t call me that, bud.” Jack responded simply, swinging his arms around Race and embracing him happily as the little shit exhaled a harsh laugh into his shoulder. He smelled like sweat and stale bed linens but he was talking and awake and moving, and that was more than enough to make Jack grin. “You want dinner? Water? You’re prob’ly fuckin’ parched.”

“Huh. Guess I am.” He said almost absently, like he was just then remembering his own humanity. Race reached across Jack and downed the glass of water in one go, before Jack offered him the sandwich and he slowly tucked in.

Moments like this made Jack remember why he’d stayed in this position for so long, leading these boys. They made him dread the day he had to leave, too. He slung an arm around Race’s shoulders and leaned back against the headboard of the bunk as the door creaked open, revealing a green-eyed boy with his cap held carefully in his hands. Jack motioned Davey in, tugging Race closer up against his side. The younger boy curled up beneath his arm, seeming to melt into the embrace.

“Hi, Racer. Feeling better?” Davey asked politely, coming to a halt beside the bed and tucking freckled hands into his pockets.

Race nodded wordlessly, without making eye contact as he bit his sandwich. He’d probably only be talking to Jack for a few hours, but that was how things always went. Jack had a remarkable knack for weaseling into people’s cracks and gently breaking them open. Davey rocked back on his feet, wearing a pleasant little smile. “That’s good. Your bunk is all paid for tonight, so no need to worry about that.”

“Great. Thanks, Dave.” Jack briefly grabbed his hand and squeezed, and like clockwork, Davey squeezed back. He trailed up to hold onto the taller boy's wrist as an idea struck him. “Hey, Davey, you think you could help Racer here start up a job search? Like, a post-newsie career?”

“Well, sure. I can think of a couple things that suit you, Race.” He smiled the type of smile that appeared when he had an idea. Jack felt confident for Racer that Davey was going to take good care of this little issue. Things would be okay, even if it was slow going. Even if Race was burrowing further into his arm, looking stony and miserable. “I’ll get back to you on that as soon as possible. Is it alright if I go tell the guys you’re alive and well up here?”

“Go inform the masses.” Jack responded easily, shooting Davey a lazy grin.

Davey returned the bright smile, crinkling his wide eyes into crescent moons. “Yessir. Oh, and Jackie?”

“Yeah, Dave?”

“Les gave me a couple of taffies for Race.” He briefly dug into his pocket and carefully deposited the candies in Jack’s palm, just a simple brush of pale skin against tan. “You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to, but if you do, I promise they’re safe for consumption.”

Jack thanked him and he disappeared as quickly as he came. Only once Jack had set the taffies aside, did he notice Race’s shit-eating smirk. A little bit of bright mischief was returning to his eyes as he trained them on Jack, brows curling downwards into a ghost of his usual impish expression. That was both a good and bad sign. Jack felt his own eyebrows raising. “What? What are you making that face for?”

Race’s teeth flashed in a little grin as he did a remarkable impression of Dave: “Jackie…”

And that earned him a smack upside the head. Jack’s face prickled with heat as he adamantly shook his head, rolling his eyes to the soundtrack of Race snickering beneath his arm. “Shaddap, ya’ bastard.”

Then he started fucking cackling, and Jack didn’t even have the energy to be pissed off at being the butt of the joke, because Race was gonna be okay. Rough patches were tough, but he could see a bit of sunlight through the clouds. Jack held him a little bit tighter and thanked the higher powers for small breakthroughs. 

....

thank you for the ask, darling! <3

[witchygagirlwrites]

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader

Part 2 of Dynasty

Can a broken heart still beat?

Warnings: Character death, depression, drug use, suicide, reading of a suicide note, true love not letting death get in the way? Idk where this came from, no wait I do! blame @desimarie12

Mouse sat in the chair next to your bed, eyes never leaving your face. The solid sound of the machine helping your lungs push air through your body was the only sound in the room. Every moment that ticked by and you clung to life was a moment he managed to draw a breath. Twenty four hours, that was what the doctor told them. You were closing in on eighteen hours and still holding on. 

The door cracked open and he didn’t have to look up to know it was Erin and Jay. They hadn’t left the hospital either but they’d stayed in the waiting room throughout the night until visiting hours rolled back into effect or well until Sergeant Benson called in a favor and suddenly it didn’t matter if the three of them were all in your room or not as long as they stayed out of the way. “She’s still holding on man” Jay spoke softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

He nodded slowly “Holding on is a lot different than waking up Jay. She’s strong, she’s so damn strong but what if her body can’t handle this?” even simply giving voice to the thought was enough to force another round of tears from his eyes, they slid silently down his face. Erin stepped up next to him, slipping her hand down in his and squeezing it gently “If there’s any way for her to find her way back to you she will. She loves you so much” 

He squeezed her hand back, wishing he could offer her some word of comfort. You would want him to, that was your best friend but any word fell flat on his lips. He didn’t blame her by no means, he would never do that simply because he knew you. If an innocent person was in danger around you, especially a kid? Nothing would’ve stopped you from saving them. Even at the expense of yourself.  “This isn’t your fault Erin” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly and he could hear her inhale sharply before she said “I called her to this task force Mouse” 

He cut his eyes up at her and saw tears sliding down her face “Don’t mourn her yet Erin, please. I can’t…I can’t handle that” she nodded, wiping at her eyes “I’m sorry” and turned to walk out. Jay looked back at him then at the door “I’ll go check on her. If you need anything man, just yell.I’ll be right outside” 

Mouse listened to Jay leave and thought to himself, how would Jay ever give him what he needed? What he needed was for you to wake up. For those beautiful eyes to be looking back at him, that smile you had anytime you were hurt and trying to hide it plastered on your face and you joking about the fact that you wanted a vacation to New York City but maybe not like this. That was what he needed.  

He leaned up to let his hand brush against yours, fingers curling around yours “Baby, I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m here. Jay’s here too and Erin. The moment Erin called me and Jay got on a plane. I haven’t left your side. I’m not leaving your side. You are everything to me, you hear me? Everything. So I really need you to wake up. Whatever you want is yours. Every argument the rest of our lives you’ve now won before they ever start. You want to steal my coffee every day? It’s yours. Hog the blankets? Please take em. Have the water so hot in the shower I swear it’s gonna scald us both? It’ll be fine, we know plenty of good doctors. I just need you to wake up..Please baby wake up” he could feel the tears flowing down his face but he didn’t care you were still holding on for something, he was praying for the first time in his life that the something was him.He was praying that you were fighting to come back to him. He couldn’t do this without you. He didn’t want to.

When the twenty four hour mark hit, doctors swarmed your room. It seemed like you shocked most of the hospital by making it that long. Mouse stood back with Erin and Jay watching as the doctors went over your injuries with each other, talking about running more tests and further treatments.

“What now?” Jay asked, breaking their conversation because so far he’d been the one out the three of them to talk to the medical team the most. He had no choice but to hold it together, for Mouse and Erin both. “Detective Halstead, we’re doing everything we can for her” the doctor assured them but about that time your hand twitched.

“She moved,” Mouse whispered and stepped forward. The doctors all turned towards you but to Mouse’s horror you started to seize, he could see red stains start to seep through the bandages covering your body and something started coming out of the tube down your throat “Get them out of here” the doctor told Jay nodded towards Mouse and Erin. 

“Fuck you, I’m not leaving her” Mouse fought, struggling against Jay who was trying to grab his arm. He’d promised you he wouldn’t leave your side. “Officer Gerwitz you don’t want to see this” a nurse assured him, grabbing his other arm he turned to look at her and saw the tears in her eyes and this time when his legs went out from under him no one was there to catch him. His knees buckled and he hit the floor on them, watching as the doctors and nurses moved around your bed.

He was helpless to move, hell he couldn’t form a thought as he watched them shock your body, it jolting off the bed. “Greg, come on man. Don’t be in here for this” Jay tried, choking back a sob as his wide eyes landed on the bed as well. “I’m not leaving her” he whispered, even as the movements of the medical team ceased and they called the words that stopped his own heart beating in his chest “Time of death one eleven p.m.”

Mouse sat on the front pew of the church in his dress uniform, staring at your casket that was covered in the CPD flag. The unit was sitting around him, Erin was on his left side and Jay was on his right. He could’ve cared less. He was alone. You were gone.

He gripped his dogtags in his hand, the ring he’d never given you now rested on the chain. He had planned to slip it on your finger the moment you got home from New York. He’d never dreamt you getting home would’ve been in a body bag. The little girl you’d saved, Clarissa. She’d gotten her parents to fly her out for the funeral. She’d spoken with his blessing. 

She’d hugged him and told him she was so sorry you were gone. He’d tried to act like anything she said mattered, Erin had given him a small nod so maybe it had seemed like it did to him. He was glad the little girl was safe, that much was true. These niceties, the apologies they wouldn’t bring you back. They wouldn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest. They wouldn’t give him a reason to get up every day.

Hank stood at the front of the church and nodded to the unit. They would carry you out to the hearse then carry you to your grave. The last time Mouse would have you in his arms in any way would be helping to carry you to your grave. They’d wanted him to not help but what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t carry the woman he loved to the end? 

He stood with his team, positioning his cover on his head, tears streaming down his face as they all took their positions on your casket. Him and Erin were in front. They lifted you up and walked as one out of the church. Nothing had ever felt heavier than the weight of that casket, knowing it carried you inside.

_________________

At the cemetery they spoke of you. How you lived, how you loved. How you died being a hero. Mouse stood to the side, blue eyes glued to the light grey casket. One by one those of your unit were allowed to place a photo or something inside. Erin placed a photo of you, her and Nadia. Jay put his lucky keychain, Adam put a coin Makayla had asked him to give you, Kim had a stuffed animal from their niece. Kevin had three red roses. One from him, one from his brother and one from his sister.

When Hank looked over at him he walked over to the casket, footsteps slowing when he got near it. The dress Erin and your aunt picked looked exactly like something you’d wear and the funeral home had done a good job. You almost looked like you were asleep. Almost. He laid the dogtags across your chest “I’m sorry you never got this ring. I’m sorry I never made you my wife. I love you and always will” he whispered then slowly closed the casket, staring at your face until the last moment possible.

Mouse sat on the bed, photos of you scattered around him. Your smiling face looking back at him from every one. Your pillow still vaguely smelled of your shampoo, your coffee mug was still in the strainer, the last load of laundry you’d asked him to get out of the dryer and he’d forgotten still sat in the machine. The candle you loved sat half burnt next to the bed, the movie you and him planned to finish when you got home was still saved on the dvr.

He tried. He tried for weeks, he tried. The pain was ripping him apart more and more every day. He found a new dealer, it was fairly easy.  He was high more days than sober now. The very thing you’d always feared, he’d gone back to his old ways but who was there to care? He’d lost the only reason he had for breathing, the very air in his lungs. He clicked his laptop, watching the video of you and him Jay had taken at the halloween party a few months before. You were laughing, arms around his waist and looking at him like he was the most important thing “Forever and a day Gerwitz?”  just hearing your voice over the video made tears hit his eyes as he heard his own voice reply “Forever and a day love”

He stared at the bottle in his hand. It was enough, he’d made sure of it. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to be with you. The pain was too much. He’d considered just using his gun but he knew Jay would find him and he couldn’t do that to him. This way he’d just go to sleep and wouldn’t wake up. A lot less for Jay to find.

He sat the envelope with Jay’s name on the laptop and opened the bottle along with the bourbon. He’d see you again and the pain would stop. That was all that mattered.

Jay walked slowly into the apartment, calling Mouse’s name out. He knew something was wrong but he hadn’t expected what awaited him either.

______________________

Jay and Erin sat together between yours and Mouse’s graves. Hank had pulled some strings, his death had been ruled a heart attack so he’d gotten a proper CPD burial and they’d made sure it was right next to you where he belonged. Hank had even footed the bill for your headstones to read “Loving Husband” and “Loving Wife” ; it was only suitable. Not even death stopped the love you two had for each other.

“Have you read his letter yet?” she asked and he shook his head and fished it out then held it out to her “Here, you do it” she took it then cleared her throat: 

Jay, I’m sorry that I know you’ll be the one to find me. I wished there was someone else but we both know with her gone there isn’t. I’ve tried man, I really have. I can’t continue to live in a world she’s not in. She was always the air in my lungs and every day without her I suffocate more and more.When I met her I found my reason to keep going and the day I lost her I lost that reason. If there’s a life after this I will find her in it and love her it it, if there isn’t at least the pain will stop. Please don’t hold onto guilt over me and don’t let Erin hold onto guilt over her. We both knew our best friends loved us. Be happy man, if you find love don’t wait for anything. See you in the next life brother, Mouse

They were both crying by the time Erin was through reading. Jay slipped an arm around her and pulled her over onto his shoulder “I just hope they’re together” she whispered. “Me too” he replied, the wind catching their words as it blew past your graves maybe carrying that message on.

One moment Mouse was swallowing a handful of pills and not fighting against the urge to close his eyes, the next he was laying on a patch of grass. Grass? How did he get outside? “Wake up Greg” he heard your voice and felt your hand on his face and for a moment thought he was hallucinating, the pills hadn’t worked. They’d just caused this.

He felt the air move around him then your other hand went to the opposite side of his face and he heard your light laughter “I swear if you don’t open those gorgeous blue eyes Gerwitz” he slowly opened his eyes and you were kneeled in front of him, real as day. Your hair was in a braid like you always wore it during summer, you were wearing a light blue shirt with cut off shorts and sneakers. You looked happy and healthy.

“Sweetheart? Is that really you?”  you nodded, tears shining in your eyes “It’s really me Greg” he pulled you into his arms and you laughed, letting him wrap both arms around you. “How? Baby, where are we? What happened?” when he rolled so he was holding his weight on his arms and you were under him in the grass you smiled sadly up at him, running your fingers up into his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling tears threaten at feeling your touch “Why are you here so soon? You had so much life left” you whispered and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. 

His girl. Whole and here with him. Wherever here was, it didn’t matter. He had you in his arms. “No I didn’t love. My life ended the day you left” you smiled “I love you Greg” then pulled him down to you. The moment your lips met his both of you let tears slip free. When you pulled away from his lips he leaned his forehead against yours “I love you so much” you grinned “Forever and a day Gerwitz?” he nodded “Forever and a day baby” 

[jestercouture]

Hii, i really liked your last post about jonathan and blackmore tending to sick darling! May i ask one like that but with yandere bruno and mista (the diiference being that reader got sick after trying to escape from them and spending the whole night hiding from them on the cold streets)

Bruno Bucciarati

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, light gaslighting, threats of violence.

His hands were shaking as he placed a warm blanket across your body; in anger or nervousness you did not know. You could gather that he was angry with you, for hiding, for running away from him but did you really have any other choice?

It was either run or spend the rest of your life in a locked room, disguised as a luxurious paradise, with the “love of your life” attending to your every whim. Except, Bruno wasn’t your lover and he had been closely following your every move without your knowledge as he prepared to take you for himself.

Oh, and he was a capo to the local Italian mafia.

But you hadn’t had a chance to spill a desperate apology from your chattering lips, eyes glazed over with tears burning and about to run down your cheeks. His eyes met yours and you just felt your heart stop; he was furious, that much you could tell, but he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.

Bruno was a man of utmost respect; it was his very nature to care and nurture to the best of his ability despite a difficult situation on his hands. If you had liked him the slightest bit, perhaps he could have also commanded your respect without intention.

Because Bruno did care. Too much, to his own and to your detriment, which is how you got stuck here. He always tended to notice those on the fringes of society, those who weren't cared for and abandoned. You had a family, but after moving to Italy for a gap year as you decided what to with yourself for the rest of your life...it could get quite isolating. Staying in a cheap hostel wasn't easy, especially with your limited Italian.

But you made it work, as an English tutor to parents who wished for their kids to have more options for study and work. It paid well, most times, but you still fought tooth and nail to find a more stable and higher paying position as a barista or something.

If only you hadn’t taken that job at the local coffee shop, with good pay and regular customers who were (mostly) kind.

If only he hadn’t laid his eyes on you, you would be free. And happy.

There was no use in thinking about that now. You life, your freedom, you had been snatched away from all of it, without any thought as to how you would feel. He acted as though you should be grateful. Bruno thought, genuinely envisioned that you would be overjoyed to be stolen away from your own life.

“Do you find joy in being so difficult, mia cara?”, you almost jumped as his voice rang out in the bedroom, almost morose as he looked at you. Disappointment was worse than anger sometimes, because what did he really expect to happen?

“You can’t keep me here forever, Bucciarati. I don’t want to be here an-“, a slew of coughs wracked your body, ceasing your oncoming insults.

“Mmm, and I suppose I should have left you out there in this state?” Warm, strangely soft hands brushed against your forehead, drawing away after he felt the light sheen of sweat forming.

His chiding tone did nothing to inspire guilt, or even a sense of shame for running away from him, it only made you feel much more fury towards him.

Towards what had happened to you. A sadness of what you had now lost, and had no help of returning to.

You let your eyes wander up to his face- admittedly attractive, but his beauty was tainted by his selfishness. Big blue eyes gazed down at you, a sickening mocking care in them that made you begin to shake.

“Oh, carina this is why I keep you here, hm? Nice and safe, warm and right by my side,” Bruno gently placed another blanket over you, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead.

You could have fallen in love with him. You felt weak enough as it was, sick and shivering and pathetic whilst still despising the man who ruined your life.

“You need me, sweetheart. You just need to give in, let me love you, let me adore you and all of your pain will go away.”

You had that minute of freedom; you grasped it with both hands desperately, knowing it would be last time you would taste it for a while.

Your eyes began to lose your energy faster than you wanted, eyes drooping but fluttering to stay awake.

A relieving, cool hand touched your face and stroked your cheek with tenderness; you almost felt sicker when your heart stopped at the feathery touch.

“Just sleep, amore, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

That’s what you were afraid of.

Guido Mista

"Aww, baby, you really outdid yourself this time, didn't you?"

You were feverish, barely able to see the shadows flittering around the room. It felt as though tiny creatures were jumping and crawling throughout the sheets, nipping and tickling your skin.

"Mista...where?..." you could barely form words, your throat was dry as all hell and your foggy vision was clouding your frail efforts to catch sight of a glass somewhere, anywhere in the haze.

“Shh, shh, just let me take care of you, carina. You’ve only gone and caught yourself a nasty little cold, huh?” His voice was teasing you, that much you could make out, yet your sweating body almost went into shock at the undertones of dread it gave you.

Mista was being uncharacteristically caring about your escape attempt; you had been bracing yourself for a long lecture and one-sided argument at your selfishness, your callous disregard for how you had abandoned Mista when all he wanted to do was love you.

Yeah, love you to death, more like. You had seen him dispose of low-life criminals on the streets of Italy, callous and violent, like it meant nothing to him. He may have tried to shield you from his occupation but you both knew what he was.

You forced yourself to watch Mista if it was possible to remind yourself of what he could do to you if you ever went too far; his gun could be pressed against your head one day if you pushed him far enough, right?

It didn’t matter right now, though. The pitter-patter and united whining of Sex Pistols still rang in your ears until the irritated voice of your captor scolded them for disturbing you in your time of rest.

“Mista, I-I’m sorry for leaving, I just wanted to-“

“Carina, rest your head. You made a simple mistake, hmm?”

Your foggy eyes widened. Mista was letting you off for now? That would have made you sigh with relief months ago, but you’d come to understand over time that he had a bit of a temper at times.

But now, as he fussed and pampered your bedridden body, a new stab of dread became more present in your gut. This could be dangerous.

He could have hurt me, you realized. But he didn’t, or rather hadn’t yet. Was he waiting until you were back on your feet to punish you? To make you regret you’d ever run away so foolishly, throwing his love and adoration for you back in his face?

But you could feel his painful anger towards you, no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. Eyes twitching, tense shoulders, all of them were hallmarks of a Mista meltdown ready to snap on you.

Bated breaths escaped you as a familiar, sickly feeling began to wash over you; anticipation. Whether or not you knew what was coming, you never failed to feel a few stops short of vomiting when he got like this.

“I don’t know why you do these things, bella. It really hurts my feelings when you act up and make me lose my patience.”

Mista pressed a damp cloth to your face, dabbing gently as he spoke, eyes fixed on your reactions. His tendencies is what was scaring you the most, you almost wanted him to lose his shit with you.

“But I know you’re sorry. I know you feel bad about making me worry and chase you down like that!” That last part…why was it spoken with such glee, such assurance in himself? In you, even after you’d run away?

“I-I really am sorry, Mista, I d-don’t know why I did it”-

“You were scared, weren’t you?”

You shut your eyes instinctually, baring yourself to face the inevitable consequences of your actions. But there was nothing, nothing at all, apart from the slow whisper next to your ear.

It made your hair stand on end, your heart thudded to point where you felt as though you could collapse into the pillows and cushions.

“But I forgive you. This time. If you do it again…I’ll break your legs.”

Somehow, you weren’t sure if you would make it out intact.

If you would make it out at all.

——————————————————

like my work?

ko-fi

i hope you enjoyed this one! took me a while, and i struggled with writing Mista a bit and i hope they turn out well!

jjba is on the brain im literally frothing at the mouth morning noon and night

[breezysuffers]

Sam’s grandma has been on my mind recently, so I wanted to draw her!

Adeline In All Of Her Old Lady Glory!

[dykedvonte]

Something something perhaps the reason Curly lacks a truly undamaged ID where his face is visible is to represent how much damage Jimmy had already affected on him throughout their relationship and the way Curly obscured part of who he is and what he stood to unintentionally cater to this toxic influence in his life.

[mushroominaforest]

Can I get some Human anatomy tips ? I'd Google it but I like hearing from fellow cartoony artists. If you have no tips or anything u can just ignore me :)

All you gotta do to achieve good humans with accurate anatomy in your art is to only draw Canadians in the winter

Jokes aside, honestly just practice. There’s no quick and easy trick to do good anatomy, you have to put in the time. Study references, do billions of figure drawings, look at skeletons, bone structures, muscle and fat formations etc.

Dont just practice drawing people standing in the pick your character/sims stance. Draw ‘em walking, playing an instrument, playing a sport, (yoga is a good one for more complex pose practice).

Bear in mind this is coming from an art major, so I probably have snobbish opinions about the « right » way to draw lmao.

And if all else fails, just draw Canadians in winter.

[001139]

a story about a flight instructor who hallucinates his dead student

[ra-vio]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[quibbs126]

You know a while ago, I had an idea that if I were to properly make a megop kid, Nova would be a good name for them (or at least that plus maybe another word)

Since you know, novas are related to stars, like how Orion is the name of a constellation, nova in Latin means “new, strange”, which I think would be befitting of most interpretations for megop and this new development (though note I was mostly thinking of TF One at the time), and there already exists a character called Nova Prime so it kind of fits in with Prime’s name. Also, Anodyne 2’s protagonist is named Nova and I really like that game. Also she can turn into a car mode, just like a Transformer

Only for me to find out later that Nova seems to be a semi-common megop fankid name. Like I swear I’ve seen it 2 or 3 times elsewhere by other users. So like, I’d have to come up with something else to be more original

Goddamnit, and I had all those cool reasons to use the name too

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[r0semultiverse]

It’s wild to me that some of you have entire discourse accounts dedicated to shipping hate & over analyzing shipping between the anime, manga, & light novels to the point of making harassment campaigns against the authors/writers of the side stories. Yet y’all don’t send the same hate towards Ikemoto & his highly suspect ass art style with the way he draws some of these kids.

[castelled-away]

So now that we know the marriage market/schemes of the ton are not Benedict‘s cup of tea & he spends the better part of s3 running away from debutantes who want to marry him… I need Sophie (or whoever is going to be his love interest in his season) to be the incarnation of the word no. I need this lovely lady to be absolutely uninterested in this jokester puppy of a Bridgerton so that he HE has to run after HER. And she’s just like no thanks & completely uninterested & pragmatic/down-to-earth all the time until he like…cries & begs her to marry her I guess?