#I love to draw sunday but there is a problem

[justasmallartist]

chibi sunday eats chocolate :3

[somegrumpynerd]

Speaking of cats!!!!

I totally downloaded Neko Atsume it is so darn cute I love it sm

Fred is dumb and I love him, I have tons of favorites but some that stuck out to me Tabitha, Willow and snowball (and princess and pepper)

YESSSSSS I'm bringing back the cat game!!! >:3c

I'm glad you're having fun with it!! :D I can't believe I forgot how cute it was but now I'm checking it all the time lol I think the new one got pushed back but it's supposed to be coming out this year still and I can't wait ^^

AND!!!! Fred is one of my faves too!! And Snowball my beloved, precious starter kitty. I think my favourite is Pickles, they're just the sweetest to me. But they're all so cute, it's such a fun lil game

(Also when I first got it like almost a decade ago I used to rename the cats after my blorbos at the time so I decided to try it again this time with the skeletons, and Fred is the one I renamed to Killer and Pepper is the one I renamed to Nightmare lol)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Hi darling!! So hum I had this idea that like reader and Ellie meet in college and fall in love and reader meets Joel and all but she’s kinda afraid to let Ellie meet her family cause theyre conservative and stuff

And then it’s kinda angsty and reader isn’t ready but it ends up being fluffy because they work through it together and reader just loves Ellie so much that she just doesn’t care about her family’s opinion??

ILY!!

For You, I’d Stand Alone - ellie williams x reader

Hi anon thank for this idea! My dad's a pastor, has a huge as church. He's very well known in my country and this is deadass how I imagine they would react:( I hope you enjoy!! Ilysm <3

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts and ideas:)

warnings: homophobia, internalized homophobia, conservative/religious family conflict (reader side), angst (mild emotional breakdown, crying), rejection

summary: You and Ellie meet in college and quickly become inseparable. Ellie is open about who she is, while you—raised in a conservative home—struggles with the idea of letting Ellie meet you family.

Masterlist

You met Ellie in your sophomore year. Philosophy 101. She sat two rows behind you and never shut up.

And you liked it. The way her voice rose confidently when she challenged the professor, how she scribbled tiny drawings in the margins of her notes. You liked how her flannel sleeves were always rolled up, how her tattoos peeked out from under her skin like secrets asking to be told.

She noticed you first.

“You gonna keep looking at me or are you gonna ask for my number?” she asked, a lazy grin curling on her lips.

You had blushed, stumbled over your words, and gave her your number anyway.

Dating Ellie felt like diving headfirst into warm water. She was vibrant, stubborn, gentle. She took you to queer open mic nights and held your hand under the table. She introduced you to Joel with a casual, “This is my girl,” and Joel—gruff, warm—had simply nodded, eyes glinting with approval.

You liked him. You liked how much he loved Ellie. But you didn’t take her home.

You were still in the closet to your family. Church every Sunday. Your father always wore that same sharp suit. Your mother never talked about “those people” unless she was whispering.

When Ellie asked about Thanksgiving break, you hesitated.

“I just—It’s complicated,” you said.

Her eyes softened. “Babe. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

But that was the problem—you did.

Weeks passed. Joel invited you to their place for Sunday dinner. Ellie cooked. You laughed until your stomach hurt. It felt like home.

But then Ellie saw the unopened invitation to your cousin’s wedding—on your desk. You hadn't RSVP’d. You didn’t plan to.

“Are you not going?” she asked, arms crossed.

You avoided her eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“You’re not taking me, are you?” Her voice wasn’t angry—just quiet. Like she already knew.

Your silence spoke for you.

The fight didn’t explode. It simmered.

“I’m not mad,” Ellie whispered that night. “I just… I thought we were real. That you were proud of us.”

“I am,” you said, almost pleading. “But you don’t know them. They’ll look at us like we’re broken.”

Her jaw clenched. “Then let them.”

You didn’t sleep. Not really. You stared at the ceiling wondering if loving Ellie meant losing everything else.

But wasn’t she everything?

The decision came slowly. Like peeling back layers. First, you stopped deleting the pictures of her from your phone when visiting home. Then, you left your phone face-up when she texted you during dinner. Then, you said her name.

“My girlfriend, Ellie—”

The table had gone silent.

You’d felt your father stiffen. Your mother had smiled like it cracked her teeth.

You called Ellie afterward, hands shaking. “I told them.” She was quiet.

You rushed to fill the silence. “They didn’t say anything. But they know. And I think—I think I want you to meet them.”

Pause.

“You sure?” she asked, voice raw.

“No,” you admitted. “But I love you. And I’m tired of pretending like I don’t.”

Meeting them was hard. Your mother greeted her with a tight smile. Your father didn’t shake her hand.

Ellie didn’t flinch. She held your hand beneath the table, squeezed your thigh when you nearly choked on anxiety. She answered your father’s passive-aggressive questions with grace. When your mother made a pointed comment about “phases,” Ellie just smiled and said:

“Yeah, I’m planning to be her phase for the next fifty years.”

It didn’t end in some dramatic screaming match. It ended in silence. But Ellie held you close that night, hands buried in your hair as you cried in her neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “Even if they aren’t.”

Weeks later, Joel hugged you in the doorway.

“You’re family now,” he said. You believed him.

And when Ellie pulled you close that night, pressed her lips to your temple, she whispered:

“You chose me.”

You kissed her with the kind of tenderness that said always. Because love wasn’t a phase.

It was Ellie.

Ellie was used to being the outsider.

She learned early on how to build her own armor. People always had opinions—about the way she dressed, the way she carried herself, the fact that she didn’t care to hide who she was.

But with you? She let it fall.

You made her feel safe. That’s why meeting your family wrecked her more than she let on.

She didn’t say anything at first. You both left your parents' house in silence, your hand gripped tight in hers, your eyes glossy.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you whispered in the car.

But Ellie saw the way your father refused to look at her. The way your mother said her name like it was something to be wiped off the floor.

She saw it. And it fucking hurt.

At Joel’s that night, Ellie sat on the back porch alone, knees pulled up, one hand rubbing the fading tattoo on her forearm. A habit she never quite grew out of.

Joel stepped outside, handed her a beer. She didn’t take it.

“She’s tough,” Joel said after a while. “But you already know that.”

Ellie stayed quiet.

“She’ll choose you. Every time.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

Joel tilted his head.

“I’m afraid she’s gonna realize I’m not worth the fight.”

When she went back inside, you were sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling your phone aimlessly. Your face lit up when you saw her.

god, it always lit up.

She walked over, knelt in front of you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through her hair.

And that simple touch—your thumb grazing her cheek—made her feel like maybe she was worth it.

Weeks passed. You didn’t hear from your parents.

Ellie didn’t say anything, but she noticed the way your smile thinned when you read texts. How you spent longer in the bathroom. How your laughter felt like a mask some days.

She saw all of it. And it made her love you even more.

One night, you came home to her sitting at the kitchen table. A little tense. Quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

Ellie stared at the candle burning low beside her sketchbook. “You’re hurting. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

You walked over, curling into her lap like a kid. “You’re already helping. Just by being here.”

She held you tighter. “If I could take it from you—if I could carry the weight of them, the silence, the guilt—I’d do it. You know that, right?”

You nodded into her chest.

She kissed the top of your head. “I hate seeing you have to choose.”

“I’m not choosing anymore,” you whispered. “I already did.”

A week later, your mother called. It wasn’t good.

“I’m disappointed,” she said. “I didn’t raise you for this.”

You cried in Ellie’s arms that night, fists gripping her shirt, body trembling. And Ellie didn’t say I told you so. She just held you. Tight. Like she could glue you back together.

Later that night, she made hot cocoa from scratch. Sat beside you with her sketchbook. Drew the two of you lying under a tree—fingers intertwined, eyes closed.

She slid the sketch toward you. “That’s us. No one else matters.”

But Ellie had her own moments, too.

The next time she saw a photo of your family on your fridge, she quietly took it down. You noticed.

“Ellie…”

“I just—” she rubbed the back of her neck. “They made you cry. I don’t wanna see them smiling.”

You walked over, cupped her cheeks. “You can be mad for me. But don’t carry my hurt like it’s yours.”

“I don’t know how not to.”

You smiled sadly. “Then let me carry yours, too.”

That night, you lay in bed, whispering dreams into the dark.

“I want a little apartment with you. Plants in every corner. A dog. Maybe a secondhand piano you’ll never learn to play.”

Ellie’s voice was sleepy, hoarse. “I’ll learn for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I want all of it—with you.”

Ellie never needed the world’s approval.

But she did need you.

And when you kissed her in the quiet, when you held her like she was your whole world—it didn’t matter if your parents never came around.

Because you did.

You showed up. For her. For yourself.

And Ellie?

Ellie would go to war for your softness.

Even if she had to stand alone.

But she wouldn’t have to.

Not anymore.

The knock on the door was firm. Controlled. Not angry—but full of purpose. Your father opened it, his eyes falling flat the moment he saw Ellie.

She didn’t flinch. She stood straight, hands in the pockets of her hoodie, mouth a tense line.

“Ellie,” he said, like the word tasted bitter. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m here anyway.”

Your mom hovered behind him, eyes wide. Cautious.

“Is she okay?” she asked quickly. “Our daughter. Is she hurt?”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “She’s hurting, yeah. Because of you.”

They let her in. Not because they wanted to.

Because they were afraid of what not listening might cost them.

Ellie didn’t sit. She stood at the edge of their living room like a soldier in enemy territory, heart thudding, jaw tight.

“I love her,” she said.

They didn’t answer.

“I love her,” she repeated. “And I don’t expect you to understand everything. But I do expect you to stop hurting her.”

Her voice didn’t rise. It cut.

Your mother crossed her arms. “We’re not hurting her.”

Ellie scoffed. “Every time you call and pretend I don’t exist? That hurts her. Every passive-aggressive text? That hurts her. Every time you hang up when she says she’s happy? That’s killing her.”

Your father leaned forward. “This isn’t about you, Ellie. This is about what’s best for our daughter.”

“You don’t get to decide that anymore,” Ellie said. “She’s not a child. And you don’t get to shame her into silence because it makes you uncomfortable.”

There was a pause. Thick. Loaded. Ellie stepped closer.

“I’m not perfect. But I’m good to her. I love her with everything I’ve got. And if that’s not enough for you? Fine. But I will not let you tear her down because she chose me.”

Silence. Then your mother sat down.

She looked older. Tired. Like life had drained something from her in the months of distance.

“She’s not the same anymore,” she whispered. “She doesn’t call. She doesn’t visit. We lost our little girl.”

Ellie’s voice softened. “You didn’t lose her. You pushed her away.”

That night, when she got home, you were curled up on the couch, wearing her hoodie, reading one of her old comics. You looked up the second the door opened.

“Where were you?”

She walked over, knelt beside you, pulled your hand into hers.

“I went to see them.”

You stilled.

“I needed them to understand,” she said. “What they’re doing. How it’s hurting you. And I told them—I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“I didn't want you to fight that battle"

“I didn’t do it for me. I did it for you.”

She kissed your palm. “They might not change. But you don’t have to keep shrinking for them.”

Time passed.

They didn’t become perfect. But they tried. They called. Awkwardly. At first. Then more often.

You invited them to brunch. Your mom brought flowers. Your dad shook Ellie’s hand. Once, he even asked her about her research.

Ellie didn’t forget the pain. But she forgave—slowly, for your sake.

You never asked her to. She just did.

Five years later—

You stood barefoot in the backyard of your new house. Music played low. Fairy lights glowed. Ellie stood across from you in a linen shirt and a crooked tie she barely knew how to knot.

She held your hands like you were a prayer she never thought she’d be allowed to speak out loud.

Joel cried. Your mother cried. Even your dad blinked too much during the vows.

“I never knew home until you,” Ellie said.

“And I never stopped choosing you,” you replied.

You danced under the stars. Your arms around Ellie’s shoulders. Her lips against your temple.

She whispered into your ear, “I would’ve burned the whole world for you.”

You smiled.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I was already walking through fire—just to get to you.”

And that was it.

No more hiding.

No more shrinking.

No more apologizing for loving her.

Just you.

Her.

And a future that felt like sunlight after a storm.

[zarpasuave]

🪽🤖I can’t help but think Boothill would try his best to give a good impression to Sunday for the sake of Robin. Despite Sunday’s disapproval of someone so far removed from anything related to the (Order) Harmony, Robin loves Boothill just the way he is and if her brother can’t see it then that’s his own problem (that doesn’t keep Boothill from trying).

All those comics w these two meeting Sunday gave me an itch to draw something like this lol

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

One of your "It's a Match" chapters gave me an idea. LOVE that series btw!

What if Gaz is a virgin so Simon let's him lose his virginity with his gf? Simon is there to guide Gaz and make sure he does it right so you get as much pleasure out of it as needed. Then you give Gaz the ride of his life while Simon controls when and where he gets to cum. The poor man whimpering beneath you from the edging and denial until he finally gets permission to cum.

Sub!Gaz x Dom!Simon x Switch!Reader

(Feel free to ignore this as well.)

Took some creative liberties with the prompt and made Switch!Reader a mean/brat tamer domme even if Gaz isn’t necessarily a brat (just felt more practical for me to do it). Sue me.

Sharing is caring. || Gaz x F!Reader x Ghost

Rating: E Words: 4.7K (this one got away from me sorry) Pairing: virgin!Gaz x gf!Reader x bf!Simon CW: smut, voyeurism, hotwifing, domination/submission, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), unprotected piv, fairly rough/forceful sex (BUT CONSENSUAL), praise, slight verbal degradation?, body mods (piercings). other tags: pre-established couple, loss of virginity, pre-agreed upon conditions, consent checks, no beta we die like soap. a/n: no thoughts, just vibes. NOT PROOFREAD

Simon first brought it up one sleepy Sunday evening, when you two were lying side by side in bed, his arms snaked around you as you read an e-book, his eyes glued to the TV on an episode of some crime show.

“You know,” He had said, Roman nose rubbing the top of your head affectionately. “I’d like to run something by you.”

“Hm?” You cooed as you rolled your head back on his chest to look up at him.

“So Kyle has this problem,” Simon began to explain as he looked down at you, brown eyes peering through his blonde lashes.

That got your senses tingling and you immediately set aside the tablet to dedicate your attention to the topic at hand, turning your body to properly face him, your arm coming to rest on his shoulder.

“What kind of problem?” You questioned, an eyebrow raising in intrigue.

Simon’s eyebrows twitched lightly, a tell-tale sign he was about to bring up something ‘embarrassing’, some good gossip. “Go on!” You immediately insisted, catching the little microexpressions on his face.

“He’s a virgin.” Simon revealed, causing you to gasp, pulling your head back and shaking it in confusion.

“NO?!” You said in shock. “With that pretty face of his?” You blinked.

“I know.” Simon says and then cocks a brow upward. “So what do you say?”

You didn’t need clarification, you simply smirked and shot him a look.

-

That’s how you ended up here.

Simon made all the arrangements, established rules with Kyle, and finally brought him over the that following Friday.

“You sure about this, sir?” Kyle asks, ever respectfully, sat on your living room couch, with you by his side, Simon sitting across from you on the arm chair by the chandelier.

“As sure as anyt’in’.” Your boyfriend replies and casts a glance at you. “You sure, da’lin’?”

“100% sure.” You answer, before glancing at Kyle. “Are you sure about it?”

“I… I am. But… It’s… It’s your relationship, I don’t want to cause an issue.” Kyle tells you, looking at you sheepishly, dark lashes fluttering anxiously over those stunning brown eyes of his.

“It’s not our first time doing this, I’m sure Simon’s told you all about it.” You reply in a reassuring tone.

“I know but…” Kyle says as he looks at you, your hand on his knee, finger drawing light circles on the denim of his pants.

“We’ll start off slow, at your pace. If ever there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll stop.” You assure him. “Simon’s here for that, after all… Not just for my sake, but yours too.” You add.

Kyle nods and gulps down a deep breath, casting one last glance at the form of his lieutenant, sat imposingly on the arm chair, legs spread open, lounging without a car in the world. One of his legs is bent near the seat, the other stretched across, foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, and arms resting comfortably on the rests, one of his hands holding a tumbler of Bourbon. His head is cocked to the side with interest.

The young sergeant nods again and slowly leans toward you. One of his hand tentatively wraps around your hip, fingers grazing the expanse of your ass in the shorts you’re wearing, while the other grabs you around the back of the neck, his lips connecting to yours.

Your warm, wet tongue swirling with his, soft breaths and gasps coming from your mouth as you let him take the lead for a moment... it’s all making his confidence grow. Sure, he’ll need guidance eventually, but for now he’s got this.

His hand slides to cup your ass, grabbing it with a greedy grasp, squeezing his fingers into the thickness, the other sinking into your hair, fingers gently clutching your scalp as they tug into the hairs.

He’s kissed plenty of people before, this isn’t new for him, and yet, it still feels completely different, in the way you’re not ‘his’ to kiss. But, somehow, that makes it all the better.

Slowly, your lips separate and you glance up at him a single look to check on his state and he nods imperceptibly, which causes your hands to slide down his chest and begin feeling him up.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you atop of him, hands sliding under the fabric of your top to feel up your back as your own find the hem of his t-shirt and tug it up to expose his chest.

Your fingers trace his pecs, his abs, nails softly drawing down atop him, making him shiver. He’s younger than Simon, his skin infinitely smoother, his body fat percentage definitely lower, not a trace of hair on him. It’s so different from your boyfriend… And you welcome the change.

You help him take off his t-shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side and then lower your mouth onto his jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones… You’ve barely started and the poor kid looks like he’s already seeing the universe and all its stars, his cock having sprung to attention so quickly that the bulge in his pants keeps rubbing against your inner thigh.

Slowly, you slip down from atop of him, your hands sliding down his body as you kneel before him on the floor, hands tracing over his thighs in the jeans he’s wearing, fingers squeezing his strong muscles through the fabric.

“You’ve never gotten a bj before, have you?” You ask him, eyebrows cocked and eyes locked onto his face. He shakes his head immediately, muttering something about ‘getting a handy’ back in secondary but that was the extent of it.

“Poor thing.” You coo at him. “Never got to feel a pretty mouth wrapped around that cock, hm?” Yo teased him playfully, watching how his eyes widened, eyebrows scrunching pitifully, as you undid his belt and tugged down his jeans.

“You’re in good hands, Garrick. She’ll take good care of you. Has a very talented throat.” Simon pipes up behind you. You don’t even have to look behind you to spot the smirk on his lips, the way the dulcet of his voice comes just short of a boast and a brag of how lucky he himself is, and how lucky Kyle is that Simon was willing to share you.

You help Kyle out of his sneakers and jeans before beginnin to palm him through the black cotton of his boxer briefs, his cock already peeking up from behind the waistband, leaking precum in anticipation. “Someone’s eager, hm? Are you excited, Kyle?” You quip to him.

“Mhm. Very. Very!” Kyle nods, his eyes glued to every single movement of yours, from the way your hands palm at his bulge, to how your fingers caress his smooth skin, to how they hook onto the waistband and roll down his underwear, peeling it off his body.

He’s big, bigger than Simon, even, though not as thick… He’s circumcised and he’s perfectly shaven. You wonder if he did that for your sake, or his own preference. There’s a thick vein running down the underside of him, one you can’t wait to feel pulse against your tongue.

Taking his cock in your hand, you stroke it slowly before allowing your tongue to run atop of it, base to tip, your tongue gently grazing the leaky tip, spreading the precum over the head before slowly parting your lips and guiding him inside.

The moan that escapes the boy in front of you makes you smirk, he twitches below you, fingers clenching on either side of his thighs, as if resisting squeezing into tight fists as you slowly allow his cock to slide deeper into your mouth. Then, you start bobbing it, up and down, cheeks hollowed out and lips grazing the warm skin leaving a mess of saliva around him.

Kyle’s quick to react this time, his hand grabbing you by your hair, legs trembling on either side of you. Your eyes shoot up to find his, only to find that his head is falling back onto the back of the couch, eyes screwed closed, mouth hanging open like he’s experiencing an out of body experience.

“He’s certainly enjoying himself, isn’t he?” Simon remarks behind you, receiving a finger signal from you, a sign of agreement, a preestablished way of communicating, since your mouth was busy. “That feel good, Kyle?”

“Y-Yeah… Yeah… I-It… God…” Kyle groans in between swallowed breaths. Poor thing, you want to coo at him, already too lost in the pleasure to even speak… Oh, how beautiful he’ll look soon, fucked out under you, drunk on your pussy…

You don’t notice Simon coming up from behind you until you feel his hand grip your head, atop of Kyle’s, calloused fingers digging into your scalp. His other hand shoots out to grab Kyle’s head from the back, pulling it forward so he’s forced to stare at you.

Then, your head is shoved forward, Kyle’s cock sliding down your throat with no warning Simon’s hand holding you in place, while Kyle’s eyes widen and an obscene moan escapes his mouth. Simon controls your head, pulling and pushing you onto Kyle’s hip. 

It’s no wonder that Kyle’s whole body starts to tremble, eyes widened and having trouble staying focused, or open, mouth left wide open as Simon makes him fuck the back of your throat, experienced eyes keeping watch of your reactions and signals and of Kyle’s…

He’s controlling the speed at which you go, how deep you take his cock down his throat, how much of a mess you make with your spit, and how long you get to breathe whenever he pulls you off before pushing you back on. A reminder. He’s always in control.

“Come down her pretty throat, go on, Garrick.” Simon demands. Kyle, poor thing, has already been holding on with teeth and nails to keep himself from climaxing too soon, wanting to prove himself as more than just inexperienced… But Simon’s order is so severe, he can’t keep it up… And he lets go, twitching in your mouth and shooting his come down your throat.

Simon lets go of you both, giving you a moment to catch your breaths, brown eyes staring at the result of what you just did, you, out of breath, a mess of drool down your chin, and eyes welled up with tears, and Kyle, out of breath, a mess of drool around the base of his cock, and eyes glazed over.

“Good job, da’lin’...” Simon tells you, pulling you up ever so slightly, kissing you sweetly, his tongue piercing flicking across your tongue, as if he’s looking for a taste of Kyle in your throat. 

After a moment, he pulls back and looks at Kyle. “Now, you’re gonna thank her for the favour she made ya, hm?” He warns. “Let’s take this to the bed. C’mon.” He demands, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom, leaving Kyle to have to keep up.

Simon, unlike you, is a practical man. He doesn’t waste time. By the time Kyle has made it to the bedroom after barely 20 seconds, he’s already got you naked and splayed atop the mattress, a pillow placed under your hips.

He’s on his knees in front of you and beckons Kyle closer with two fingers, before he uses those same two fingers to rub over your folds and spread them open, revealing just how wet you’ve gotten from merely giving Kyle head. “You see that?” Simon coos at him while you stare at them both, holding yourself up on your elbows.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Kyle replies with a nod, his own hand reaching to touch you, carefully sliding between your puffy lips, gliding across easily through the slick. 

Simon grabs Kyle’s wrist and carefully guides it across to your clit, finding it with the speed of a man that’s been fucking you often since you two started dating. He knows your body, knows you better than anyone, and he’s about to show Kyle exactly how to touch you to get you to fall apart like he does…

You immediately stiffen up when you feel the pads of Kyle’s fingers against your clit, the pressure behind them coming from Simon’s hand as he rolls his fingers in light circles. It’s familiar and it immediately causes you to hum in pleasure and hiss, lying yourself back on the mattress.

“Ideally, you always keep something touch that needy little clit there.” Simon explains, more like he’s giving an anatomy lesson than having a threesome. “Be it a tongue, a finger, what have you.”

Simon’s hand then slides Kyle’s fingers away, making you whimper from the loss of contact. “Be patient, da’lin’, you’ll get more soon.” He quips. “Needy girl… Thought you were going to be all bossy with Kyle, now look at you…” He coos. 

Simon turns Kyle’s hand over and, using his own hand, parts your puffy cunny before helping Kyle push two digits into your slick warmth. Kyle’s fingers are no biggy, not thick and calloused like Simon’s, and they’re surprisingly easy to take on. You moan softly at them, before becoming just a bit more vocal when Kyle’s fingers pad over your G-spot when Simon curls them just so.

“Right there, you see that?” Simon beckons, Kyle responding with mild agreement that you don’t even register because, soon, his fingers start moving, fucking in and out you per Simon’s instruction, while your boyfriend’s tongue quickly finds your clit, the cold piercing rubbing and flicking at your most sensitive spot, causing your back to arch on the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Simon…” You whine, legs already shaking, more so per the stimulation, which causes your boyfriend to use both of his free hands to keep your knees spread open as far as he could comfortably get them, tongue still lapping up at you with purposeful strokes.

The shaggy blond hair of your boyfriend vanishes for a moment, as does the experienced tongue touching you, before it gets replaced with Kyle’s slightly messier and uncoordinated attempts, Simon observing Kyle and noting your reactions and how much weaker they are, upset at the lack of proper stimulation.

“C’mon, Garrick…” Simon croons. “Your tongue’s sharp enough to roast Johnny, but you get here and it gets shy?” He taunts, before using his hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck to guide him a bit.

“I’m trying…” Kyle remarks, his face feeling warm against your skin, showing he’s likely blushing despite his darker complexion hiding it, his fingers still moving in the way Simon taught him, his only saving grace.

“Scoot.” Simon remarks and pushes his head aside, ever so slightly, causing him to rest against your thigh. Simon’s head pushes in near Kyle’s, resting against your other thigh, and his tongue catches your clit again, though the angle at he’s at now, slightly at an angle, allows Kyle to spot the way Simon moves his tongue: soft circles, zigzagging side to side, lips also rubbing against you.

Kyle watches closely, eyes widened, pupils blown with lust at the sight of Simon’s face so close and going down on you so eagerly, his eyes glued to your face up top, as if checking every single reaction you have to your boyfriend’s mouth. And react you do. Your moans are louder, jumpy, desperate, your hands grabbing the bed covers and squeezing tight, your cunt seeking Simon’s mouth as you fuck yourself onto it.

Kyle wasn’t the type to watch porn often, having little time and little interest in it, more so because he knew it wasn’t a good habit or realistic to expect it to be realistic… But the sight of Simon’s lips sucking and rubbing into your slick like it was the most delicious meal he’s ever gotten to eat was better than any of the porn he’s actually seen.

Simon’s able to make you come undone in a matter of minutes, the whimpers and needy moans, the shallow breaths, the way your head was left spinning, lolling to the side as Simon eased you down from your peak and then dropped a chaste kiss to your thigh before standing up again. 

“You saw that?” He teases Kyle, who nods eagerly, no words coming to his lips after the display he just got. “You’ll get there eventually. With practise.” He assures him before patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Up you go.”

“How are you doing, da’lin’?” Simon asks, checking on you as you nod and show him a thumbs up, causing a chuckle to come from his chest before he takes a seat in another armchair in the corner, a spot he usually uses when having insomnia, right by the windows, to work on his laptop while you sleep near him… Except this time being used for something else.

“Go on, then, continue.” He demands as he sprawls out on the armchair, legs spread and already undoing his belt and fly, seeking relief from the tight feeling in his own jeans.

You nod eagerly and quickly shift to be sat on the bed, pulling Kyle toward you. “You still want this?” You ask him as you look him in the eyes… As if Kyle, needy the way he is now, after the sight of you coming undone on Simon’s tongue, would ever be able to answer anything other than a resounding ‘YES!’.

“Mhm… I do.” Kyle assures you with another nod… So, you kiss again, hands sliding over each other’s bodies just like they had on the couch before, exploring the free skin, allowing Kyle to grope you more easily. He seems fixated on your ass and thighs, fingers kneading the extra meat in them and holding you close.

His cock has long recovered from his first orgasm, now rubbing against your tummy as he kneels in front of you on the mattress. But not for long. Soon, you’ve laid Kyle on his back, and you’re straddling him, one leg on either side, slowly rubbing your folds over the length of his veiny cock.

“You’re gonna take ‘im for a right, da’lin’?” Simon asks, your eyes seeking him out in his armchair. The way you’re positioned, he can see all of you. Your pretty tits, the way your lips spread to rub against Kyle’s shaft, your legs parted open and knees digging into the mattress.

“Mhm…” You reply, your expression having shifted once again from the needy, submissive mess he had made of you, to a more dominant, playful one as you look down at the sergeant below you, looking up at you like he knows he’s in for a wild one.

“Go on then… But try not to break him, yeah?” Simon teases and winks at you, his hand already palming his cock through his own black boxer briefs.

“No promises…” You quip in return and wink back, before, carefully reaching a hand forward to lift Kyle’s cock from its resting spot against his hip.

Slowly, you sink yourself into it, his narrower build a lot easier to accommodate than Simon’s girth… But you soon regret how eagerly you did it, when you feel Kyle’s sheer size slip inside easily, his tip striking your cervix forcefully with that one swft motion.

“Bloody hell…” You grunt and bounce back a bit to relieve the pressure. “You’re big, aren’t you?” You tease Kyle who’s already unresponsive, poor little thing, eyes twice as wide as they had been when you gave him head, barely nodding in response.

Shifting your weight around, you plant your feet on either side of Kyle’s hip. “I’m gonna move, okay?” You warn him, setting your open palms on his thighs, behind your back, earning another nod from Kyle.

Slowly, you start to ride him, each bounce of your hips drawing the most delicious moans out of Kyle, his head lolling back over the foot of the bed, eyelids fluttering and his back arching.

“Gah- Fuck-” Kyle grunts, his breath already ragged before you’ve had time to do anything, just slowly moving, feeling his lengthy size rub against your walls as you force him to bottom out every time.

Kyle’s voice gets higher, whinier, his forehead dribbling with sweat with each thrust you force his cock to deliver into your slick cunny. “Feels… so… sososo so good…” He whimpers, his tone almost pathetic.

“Yeah… does it feel good?” You croon at him, a mischievous smirk on your lips, his cock drawing soft moans off your mouth as well.

“Yeah… yeah… yeah…” Kyle nods needily, his breath staggered and swallowing excess saliva.

“Yeah? Was it all you were expecting, pretty boy?” You tease him some more, earning another handful of needy ‘Yeah’s, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to consider saying anything else. “You don’t want me to go faster then, do you?”

“No… no… faster…” He replies, his head shooting forward, clearly eager to experience what ‘faster’ would feel like.

“Oh? Then you were lying? It doesn’t feel good, you need it faster?” You croon at him as if he was behaving like a brat and not like the good boy he really was.

“No… nO… it’s- it’s-!” Kyle tries to reply, desperate to clear the misunderstanding. Not that you give him time for it, as you speed up the speed of your bouncing, taking him in harder with each strike of your hips coming down onto his.

“GOD- YES!” Kyle shouts, eyes shot open and back curling upward, his head snapping forward to look at you and watch the way your pussy swallows every inch of his veiny cock, before letting out a huff and falling back on the bed again, desperate for more.

His hands grab onto your thighs and hips, fingers digging in hard, as you ride him, sweat beginning to slide down your forehead, down your cheeks and neck. Your eyes flitter over to Simon in the corner.

The smug fucker is watching everything with a nasty little half-grin on his lips, brown eyes darkened with lust as he watches you play with Kyle, making him squirm and whimper below you.

“Play with your clit for me, da’lin’.” His voice rings out amidst the frequent and whiney moans coming from Kyle. One of your hands slips away from Kyle’s thigh behind you, finding your clit and rubbing it slowly as you keep bouncing atop of Kyle, hips stuttering lightly as the pleasure becomes more intense.

“That’s it…” Simon says with a chuckle from his armchair, fisting his cock leisurely, as if the sight in front of him wasn’t worth any more from him. “How’s his cock feel, da’lin’?” Your boyfriend asks you.

He’s playing with your head, much like you’re playing with Kyle’s… making you go back and forth between a submissive and dominant mind frame, deriving pleasure from the mind games he’s forcing you to take on.

“It’s big…” You whimper in reply. “So big…” You murmur, your eyes soft and needy as you look at your boyfriend, watching the wicked look in his face..

“Don’t look at me, look at him…” Simon tells you. “Fuck ‘im right, he deserves it.” Simon adds. “Poor lad, been so long without experiencing a pussy…” He teases. “ow’s it feel, Garrick?” He turns his attention, and yours, to the sergeant below you.

Kyle nods pathetically. “Y-Yeah… It’s- Ah-” He whimpers, eyes glazed over with pleasure, too far gone in it, too overwhelmed with the feeling of a warm, wet pussy sheathing his virgin cock.

He’s too fucked out to think… And you’re bound to join him soon enough, with the way he looks below you, your fingers playing with your clit, and his cock swiftly hitting a spot inside you that no man’s ever reached before…

Your hips stutter atop of Kyle’s, your legs straining and tired, sore from the rhythm and position. You shift positions, leaning forward, hands coming to rest on his hard pecs, your head hanging atop of Kyle’s, facing him better.

You grind back and forth, trying to regain strength to continue, feeling Kyle’s tip rubbing deep inside of you, so deep and hard… You can’t help but whine.

“She’s getting tired, Kyle. Go on, it’s your turn.” Your boyfriend quips, his voice dripping with power and command over the two of you.

Kyle didn’t need to be told twice, his arms wrapped around your lower back and he bucked up like a bull, tossing you both aside, the bed creaking with the movement. Whatever insecurity he had is gone.

He pushes your thighs apart with his hip and starts pistoning into you with barely any regard for rhythm or how deep he’s going, his face buried into your neck as he plows into you, grunting and whining like an animal in rut. Not that you mind.

You’re used to Simon (and sometimes a few other mutual ‘friends’ of yours), men who are experienced, who know what to do, how to do it, who aren’t sloppy or erratic, who’s hips don’t jerk with each plunge into your warm cunny… It’s completely different with a bloke like Kyle. Inexperienced, green, but eager and desperate and…

You’re moaning loud and often, nails clawing at his smooth scarless back, eyes rolling as each snap of his hips claps against you like a whip, his cock burying into you to the hilt and back out before plunging back in.

Once more, Simon’s quick to come to your side, quick to crouch by the side of the bed, eyes admiring the way you both act and move, to keep a keen eye on your reactions and his, ready to pull him off you like a mutt that’ll hurt his mate if the owner doesn’t make him dismount…

But he doesn’t intervene. Not when you’re moaning like a whore, with Kyle sweating and grunting atop you, his eyes screwed shut and looking like he’ll lose every and any ounce of restraint he has in the next 3 seconds, somehow pulling the will to go on from sheer fucking air.

“You gonna flood ‘er little cunt with your come, aren’t you, Kyle?” Simon coos as he rests his forearms on the mattress, a perch to watch better.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah!” Kyle replies with an eager nod, eyes opening for a moment to look at Simon who’s so close to him.

“Yeah? Are you?” Simon continues egging him on. “You gonna fill my girl with your load?” He adds, his voice dropping to a more authoritative tone.

“Y-YEAH!” Kyle raises his voice, a bit more determined, but still deep in his natural state… obedient, ready to die for his superior, for his lieutenant.

“Go on, then,” Simon demands. “I wanna see. I wanna see you fill ‘er up.” He adds. “Tell ‘er you’re gonna do it.”

Kyle’s head turns a bit to look at you, his warm brown eyes blown wide with lust and desperation, his skin slick with sweat, his plump lips parted to let in desperate gulps of air.

“‘m gonna…” Kyle grunts as he shifts his weight lightly, his nose leaning against yours. “Gonna put my come so… deep inside you…” He warns you.

The look in his eyes, the desperation in his tone, the warning tone of his that does not at all fit his personality… Somehow it all comes together to rip the filthiest orgasm out of you, your head rolling back, eyes squeezing shut and a loud whine slipping from your parted lips as you squeeze and contract around Kyle’s cock.

Kyle can’t last not even a second longer the moment you start to come around him. His eyes fall shut, his back arches and he digs his fingers into the bed, toes curling and legs shaking as he fucks his come inside of you, drool slipping down his parted mouth.

“Good job.” Simon’s voice remarks next to you, satisfied and almost… proud, while you’re both too lost in the high of pleasure to even recognize his existence in the room or that you’re… alive, really.

[masonmontz]

heyy, how are you? :) so, since it's father's day here in brazil, i decided to do something cute for this special day

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff word count: 2k

this is a bonus of pinky promise with mason and olivia, you can read it separately if you want.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“But am I your favorite? You need to tell me.” Olivia asked Mason. You were working and they were watching Barbie and the Three Musketeers for the second time, as Olivia had become obsessed with the movie, but now she started to get bored and started asking Mason random questions.

“Yes, you are my favorite, you know that.” Mason was paying attention to the movie, unlike Olivia. 

“But you have other nieces, you swear to me that I am your favorite?” She stood up from the mattress they had placed on the living room floor, then looked at Mason with her hands on her hips and a serious expression on her face.

“I swear to you, pumpkin.” You smiled to yourself watching the two interact.

It had been three months since you and Mason had been together, and just like his promise, you were happy, but most importantly, Olivia was happy, and that was enough. It took you a while to tell her that you were dating Uncle Mason, but trips to Manchester were frequent or Mason would show up in London and sleep at your house even if he has to leave the next morning.

“Don't be jealous, Summer is your friend and Mason is her uncle.” You said, still paying attention to the computer in front of you. Olivia left Mason and went to you, holding your neck in a hug while he was still watching the movie. 

“I know, mum, but I like Mase and I want him to like me too.” She whispered, so you laughed.

“He loves you, Olivia, you know that.” You squeezed her cheek, leaving a kiss on her nose, which was a little red from the cold. Ever since you and Mason told her you were together, she stopped calling him "Uncle Masey", just because she understood that he was now her stepfather, but Mason said he had no problem being called Uncle Mason, because he was already used to it. “Go put on a coat, you're freezing.” 

You traveled to Manchester and would spend the weekend with Mason, also taking advantage of the fact that the game on Sunday would be at Old Trafford and you would be able to see Mason play. Olivia loved the days you guys traveled as she would spend time away from home and get to know new places with you. 

Not to mention the fact that Mason decorated a room for her, exactly the way she wanted. You didn't know it, but Mason and Olivia had already talked about the decoration and when you arrived one weekend, you found a decorated room. Olivia almost cried when she saw the room the way she asked. 

The room was white with pink details, butterfly drawings on the wall and a huge bed just like Olivia always asked for. Mason even put a desk for her to study and a small bookshelf with some interesting books for children. It was much better than her room in your apartment in London, and that's why it was always hard to go home when she had so many comforts in Manchester. 

Mason spoils her too much, and she is getting used to this life very easily.

“Mum, can you help me take a shower?” Olivia asked quietly, so you agreed and closed your computer, walking her upstairs to help her bathe. Olivia is an independent child, but sometimes lazy and most of the time she would ask you to help her so she wouldn't have to do everything alone. Plus, the bathroom in Mason's house is different, so she can never get the water to the temperature she wants.

“Have you and Mason picked out dinner yet?” You asked as you helped her take off the coats she was wearing. Even with the house being heated, Olivia liked to stay warm. 

“Mase said we can order pizza.” She walked past you and stepped into the hot, running water of the shower. You grabbed her shampoo that Mason had bought just for her to use, as well as her favorite strawberry soap.

Mason has always been attentive to Olivia, he never stopped listening to what she likes, what she says, and she always felt comfortable sharing everything with him, just because Mason made her feel comfortable.

“That's a good idea. Here, shampoo your hair, do you want some help?”

“No.” Olivia was thoughtful, but the day was tiring for her, as she had fun before deciding to watch a movie with Mason. “Mum, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course, honey.” 

“Can I call Mason dad?” 

You froze. You didn't expect that question coming from her, in fact, you never thought she liked Mason so much that she wanted to call him dad. You had only been together for three months, who would have guaranteed that you would be together forever? 

“What?” 

“He's your boyfriend now, mum, and I love Mason so much, I also wish I had a dad like my friends in school.” 

“Babe… I don’t know, Olivia. We have to ask him about this, and what if he doesn't want to? You'll be sad about that.” You rubbed Olivia's hair as she played with the water that was falling on her. 

“Oh, yes, but what if he wants me to call him dad?” She looked at you with teary eyes, and you were touched to realize that she really wanted Mason's presence in her life.

You always thought you could fill her lack of a father, but realizing now, Mason was always there for her, just like Robert. 

“Oh, babe, why did you never tell me anything about this?” You knelt down and didn't care about getting your clothes wet. Olivia came up to you with her hair full of foam, and she placed her hands on your face.

“I don't want you to think I'm sad. You're the best mommy in the world, but Mase would be a cool daddy too.” It would be a lie to say you didn't want to cry about it.

“We'll ask him then.”

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

“Mase, can you get me some juice? I'm thirsty.” Olivia asked Mason, who was walking to the kitchen to set the table for you guys to have dinner, and she was lying on the mattress on the living room floor again, watching Pinocchio.

“Olivia, go get it yourself.” You scolded her, knowing that Mason does whatever she wants. You were walking down the stairs after taking a hot shower, and Mason had already ordered the pizza for you. 

“I'll get it.” Mason said and walked to the kitchen, so you followed him and watched as he poured the grape juice into a glass for Olivia and took it to her. He quickly returned with the empty glass.

“You can't do everything she asks, Mason. She's taking advantage of you because you can't say “no” to her.” You were serious and Mason looked at you, shrugging.

“She just wanted some juice, love.” Mason came closer, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him. He was wearing a hoodie, just like you, and he was so warm that you just wanted to lay down next to him and sleep in the warmth.

“Yeah, juice, shampoo, bedroom, toys, shoes, clothes…” 

“Guilty.” Mason laughed and you wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your head and kissing his lips. You sighed as he deepened the kiss, and it felt so good to kiss him that you could spend hours like this, just being around him. “Hmm, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You spoke and the doorbell rang, so the two of you went to the living room while Mason went to get the pizza. Olivia stood up and held your hands, walking with you to the kitchen.

“May I ask?” She spoke quietly, knowing Mason was behind the two of you, so you nodded, giving her a smile and encouraging her. 

Mason placed the pizza on the table, oblivious to Olivia's nervousness, which was now transparent. She was fidgeting with her hair and kneeling on one of the chairs, and you knew she fidgeted when she was nervous. Mason served you slices of pizza while the two of you chatted randomly, and Olivia still hadn't said anything. 

“I left it reserved for you tomorrow at the game, you can stay close to Anouska, she's going with the kids there.” 

You agreed, but Olivia was still nervous and wasn't eating, you were sitting next to her, so you placed your hand over hers, reassuring your little girl.

“Mase, Olivia wants to ask you something.” You spoke for her, and Mason nodded and finished chewing before looking at the two of you, paying attention to what Olivia wanted to say.

“Mom, I got nervous.” She said shyly and you smiled, running your hands over her back and rubbing. Mason had a smile on his face even though he didn't know what it was. “Mase… Hm… I want to know if- hm… I want to know if I can call you dad.” 

You could see the shock cross Mason's face, because he clearly wasn't expecting this. Olivia also looked at him as he didn't look away from her for a second.

“What?” That's what he managed to say, swallowing hard. 

“Only if you want to.” Olivia spoke softly, and you could tell that Mason's delay in responding made her feel insecure, and she snuggled closer to you. You looked at Mason with a small smile, knowing that it was a lot of information for someone.

“For real? You want to call me dad?” Mason asked and Olivia nodded, and you could completely see it as his eyes filled with tears and he put his hands over his eyes, trying to stop his emotion.

“I want to.” She smiled. Mason got out of his seat and walked over to her, kneeling down beside her on the floor and pulling her against him, hugging her. Olivia wrapped her arms around his neck and it was probably the most beautiful scene you had ever seen between them. 

Mason had his eyes closed as he hugged her, but a huge smile on his face as you saw a tear run down his face. That's when you felt like you were crying too, because a tear fell down your leg.

“Only if I can call you my daughter too.” He whispered, but you heard. Olivia let out a loud laugh of happiness, and you felt your heart explode with so much love and happiness as you finally felt complete.

“Yes, yes.” She cheered and you smiled, then Mason let go of her and wiped his own eyes, looking at you next. She jumped into Mason's arms, ignoring the pizza she wanted so badly, and looked at you. You stood up and walked over to the two of them, so Mason wrapped an arm around your neck while holding Olivia in the other arm. “We are a family now.”

“After seven years.” Mason mumbled and you smiled, leaning in and leaving a kiss on his lips. Olivia smiled and left a kiss on Mason's cheek and yours. “Can you believe it? I have a daughter now.”

“It's a big responsibility, you know.” Mason rolled his eyes and you smiled.

“Thank you for this, really. I couldn't ask for anything better.” He spoke to you, then to Olivia and smiled at her. “I love you both, my girls.”

“I love you too, dad.” Mason's eyes filled with tears again when Olivia spoke, but he held back from letting them fall. “Mum, we need to move to Manchester, families live in the same house.”

“Hey, easy girl. One thing at a time.” 

“She’s right. She can't live in London while her father lives in Manchester.” 

“Calm down too, that's a topic for another time.”

“Yes, now I want pizza.” Olivia spoke and you smiled, then Mason placed her in the chair again and looked at you gratefully.

Maybe it would take you a while to move, or maybe not. No one knows what might happen the next day, but you hope things will work out forever.

yourusername

liked by masonmount, declanrice, yourfriend and 359 others

yourusername It's been a great few months 🤍

↳ masonmount Love you so much, my girls! ❤️

↳ debbiemount I miss you, great pictures ❤️😀

↳ jazbenham Can't wait to see you again, the girls miss you and Olivia 🥰

[sam-keeper]

Hey Look At This Comic: Quincy

I can't remember the exact jumps it took me to get to Quincy. I know the starting point: Randy Milholland's guest appearance on Behind the Bastards for a couple episodes on Dennis the Menace. guests on that show tend to be a bit of a live studio audience, there to go "wow" and "yikes" and "[noise of discomfort]" at the right moments. not Milholland, who knows his comics history. boy, I would listen to a whole podcast of him just talking about newspaper strips! anyway, I don't think he mentions Quincy while talking about integrated casts in newspaper comics, but someone he did mention sent me off on a search and someone else mentioned Ted Shearer's Quincy, and well.

you can see, right, why this comic Got Me so fast? what a cartooning style! I'm not going to dwell on Shearer's history--you can read the Comics Journal article on him just as well as I can summarize it. I want to talk about how Shearer draws.

it's hard to do that without reference to other comic strip artists, in particular, standing as foils for Shearer's style. Ernie Bushmiller of Nancy fame is maybe the paragon of an ultra clean iconic style, where everything is almost like the platonic cartoon of what it is. (I've seen Schultz placed in this tradition as well.) not Ted Shearer's work. everything's got little flourishes and elaborations and bends and variations in outline. his comics jiggle. there are times when I'm not totally sure at a glance what his marks are meant to represent, which is a problem if you think the highest calling of comics is to relay information clearly, and a lot less of a problem if you're in love with the sheer artistry of mark making. look at that snowball fight comic, for example, and the wild mess of lines, or the way Quincy's shoes and socks are sketched, in the last panel of the letter to the president comic, with just a few confident pen blotches and a bunch of negative space. even when it's economical, it somehow feels so unsatisfied with the schematic, always searching for a way to make the objects feel a little off kilter, a little dynamic.

check out that first strip there, the one about where Quincy's granny frets over the neighboring building getting demolished, because it's crucial infrastructure for her clothesline. I just paged through a collection of Bloom County I have cause I was like, well Berkley Breathed has pretty dynamic panels too right? nope! Bloom County has a dynamic brushed style that feels similar to Shearer's style, but the panel compositions and the arrangement of characters and camera and environment are typically much more static. even Calvin and Hobbes, aside from the often completely crazy sunday strips, tends to have compositions that might employ a closeup or a distance shot, but tend to have relatively cohesive shots. this three panel strip starts with a panel where Quincy, instead of standing static, listening into the phone call, seems to pop in from the left, tie fluttering with movement. (also, scope the nice tilt on that lampshade, echoing the angle of Quincy's body!) panel two seems to pull out to an unmotivated ultra long shot, that not only gives us the apartment buildings but the fence partly blocking the view! Quincy's environment is so packed that there's no room for the kind of clear view of a building you might get in a Nancy strip. and then the point of that long shot is revealed in the final panel, a CRAZY dutch angle on the two leaning out the window towards the other building, as Granny reveals the other side of her washing line is going to get torn down. to accentuate this, the sheets on the line billow, again at an angle counter to the window, Granny, and Quincy.

Shearer seems never content to just have a series of characters in situations talking to each other. his viewpoint is always swinging around, his characters always turning to show new angles of themselves. the letter comic here is the most conventional strip of the lot and even this has only two relatively similar poses. all three standing poses are in wildly different positions and angles, front, then spinning to the side, then back, tilting left, tilting right.

he also has this tendency to have characters pop up almost as though they can see the camera. it's not enough that a straightman in Quincy should turn to the audience--they tend to pop towards the foreground. in that clothesline comic, Quincy doesn't look to Granny but to us, as though inviting us to join him in wondering about the phone call that has Granny so worried. in the composition of that circus comic, Shearer finds room for the characters, despite the size of the animals, at the borders of the comic, and is willing to embrace way more pronounced perspective than I'm used to seeing in daily gag strips to do it. look at that kid just sorta peeking over the bottom edge of the frame in that last panel! there's other comics of his where inexplicably another kid in Quincy's class, for example, will just pop their head up in the last panel, somehow accentuating the punchline with their non sequitur appearance. like real kids, Shearer's kids are unruly. like a real poor urban area, the very material of the landscape is unruly.

that TCJ article lays out what Shearer's motivation may have been, for such a vibrant and lived in strip:

"My first idea is to get people to like Quincy, to get them involved with the character, and then they can see for themselves the broken-down home, the torn sneakers, etc. Then perhaps readers will say, ‘Gee, maybe we can help.’ Or even the poor white can say, ‘Gee I went through this same thing myself.’"

that approach can only work because of the detail Shearer's panels overflow with. one more comparison: don't Shearer's landscapes sometimes feel a bit like George Herriman's wobbly, shape-filled landscapes in Krazy Kat? just, less weird cacti and more scrungly fire hydrants and snaggle-toothed fences. the move from panel to panel doesn't always make diegetic sense, much like the landscape moves around Krazy, but it's so lush that in total it creates a place that feels lived in, enough that it still connects with me 40 or 50 years later. that seems a testament to Shearer's strategy, and probably has some lessons for the Clarity of Communication school of comics theory.

it all adds up to a work that should be in the pantheon right alongside someone like Bill Watterson. I don't think I've ever heard anyone talk about Shearer, though. the broadest history I have--Harvey's Art of the Comic Book--doesn't cite him; nor Wolk's Reading Comics. like a lot of histories, Gardner's Projections loses track of newspaper strips sometime between the rise of Stan Lee and the rise of Comix With An X. some of that's the way the history's been canonized, but some of the way the history's been canonized is surely due to institutional racism and the pinning of the modern Art History of Comics on white men like R Crumb.

what Quincy deserves is a way of following it now... but that's not an infrastructure I can imagine anyone is interested in building. sites like comics kingdom or gocomics have snubbed rss technology for presumably the same reason social media increasingly gates all content from non-users: gotta juice the numbers and make sure direct access is the only business in town. which is sorta bizarre when it comes to a strip like this because who is signing up for a comicskingdom account, sitting down, and reading through a decade of Quincy strips? if they're already just putting the lot online for free (which, hey, I'm grateful for that, especially from a historical access perspective!!), why not set up a way to cycle through that history in a feed, shipping out the strips in the format they were meant for: something you'd see daily? but, I'm the weirdo who thinks basically the whole internet should be embracing a more broadcast syndication model. at least the comics are readable online, which means that maybe bit by bit Ted Shearer's work can get the wider cultural attention something this virtuosic deserves.

this post originally ran on Cohost on Jul 31, 2024. you can read more reviews in the Hey Look At This Comic tag and support me on Patreon.

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

I saw your Girl dad! Josh post!

….Bill in his girl dad arc when (JK! JK!….unless)

(Lol lock tf in chat this is gonna get interesting to say the least

Bill dickey as a Girl Dad headcannons

1. "You're Not Dating Anyone Until You're Thirty-Five."

Bill is insanely overprotective but in the worst possible way. He doesn't trust anyone, especially boys. If his daughter so much as mentions a crush, he launches into a 15-minute rant about how “men are scum, and I should know, because I am one!”

2. Turns Her into a Nerd by Force.

He starts her on comics, sci-fi, and horror movies from the womb. Think “Alien” at age six and mandatory Sunday night viewings of Twilight Zone.

“You don’t get to sleep until you can name the entire creative team behind Swamp Thing vol. 2.”

3. Absolutely Cannot Handle Emotions.

She cries? He panics. He just stands there holding a Mountain Dew can like, “Uh… do you want… a Funko Pop or something? Stop leaking! I didn’t raise a weakling!”

4. The Most Toxic PTA Parent Ever.

He shows up to school meetings in a black trench coat, rants about the school’s media literacy failures, and says things like, “If my daughter’s being bullied, I will sue. I have lawyers. I know people on forums. Don’t test me.”

5. Secretly the Best Coach in a Weird Way.

Bill is a ruthless perfectionist when she shows interest in anything creative. “If you’re gonna draw anime, do it right. These proportions? Amateur. You call this anatomy? This is CalArts-tier crap, and I won’t allow it under my roof.”

But his standards push her to be really, really good—even if she wants to murder him half the time.

6. Grudgingly Proud Dad Mode

She wins an art contest or aces a project? He brags nonstop for a month—but never directly to her face.

“She’s not bad. I mean, obviously she got the talent from me. But yeah, whatever. I guess she’s okay.”

7. Hyper Fixates on Her Interests to “Vet” Them

If she likes something he doesn’t understand (like K-pop), he goes full rage-research mode. Watches 6-hour YouTube essays. Then returns to say things like:

“Okay. So this Jungkook guy? I guess he’s talented. Still don’t trust him.”

8. Accidentally Raises a Girl Just Like Him

One day she quotes The Thing perfectly, destroys a boy in an online debate, and calls someone a “poser” for not knowing Kirby’s original designs. Bill just stares and mutters, “My work here is done.”

9. Will Go to War for Her

She never sees it, but if anyone seriously messes with her? He’s already on the dark web tracking their IP address. His threats are too specific.

“You want me to drop their home address or are we playing the long game?”

10. Sentimental? Nope. Never. (Okay, Maybe Once.)

He keeps a photo of her in his wallet, folded and beat up. He never talks about it.

But sometimes, when she’s not around, he looks at it and sighs.

“She’s… fine. Not like she makes me proud or anything. Idiot.”

“The Coat”

Bill was elbow-deep in a tote labeled "CON BADGES / UNTOUCHED GARBAGE", muttering under his breath about how these kids wouldn’t know practical effects if they crawled out of a latex womb, when his daughter walked in—dragging the massive, beat-up orange flannel from the back of his closet behind her.

It was practically a robe on her. Oversized, worn, and clinging to the smell of years of conventions, bad takeout, and Bill’s lingering rage.

Daughter:

“…Can I wear this to school tomorrow?”

Bill turned like she’d just asked to burn his comic collection.

Bill:

“That? You mean my coat? The coat I wore to every screening of The Thing between ‘92 and ‘06? The coat I nearly got kicked out of Wizard World for wearing over a Gremlins tee because some idiot thought I was doing a bit?”

Daughter: (nodding calmly)

“Yeah. That one.”

Bill: (offended beyond comprehension)

“Why would you want to wear that? You trying to look like a failed screenwriter with back problems?!”

Daughter:

“It’s warm. And I like how it smells. Like… your weird soap and burnt pizza.”

Bill: (pointing dramatically)

“That’s character! You don’t earn that smell, you live in it.”

Daughter:

“I want to live in it. Just for the day.”

That shut him up for a second. He looked at her—dwarfed by his rage-blanket of a coat, arms poking out like she was wrapped in a sleeping bag—and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: “…you’re a menace…”

Bill: (grumbling)

“Fine. But if anyone spills anything on it, anyone—you, your friends, some gluten-free goober with a juice box—I will rain hellfire upon that school. I will march in there, I will quote John Carpenter until they expel themselves, and I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”

Daughter: (grinning)

“Love you too, Dad.”

Bill:

“I didn’t say that. I don’t believe in love. I believe in practical effects and staying angry.”

She rolled her eyes, already backing out of the room.

Daughter:

“Sure. I’ll be careful. I swear on your limited edition ‘Murder of Crows’ box set.”

Bill: (horrified)

“DON’T YOU JOKE ABOUT THAT—!”

But she was gone. And he was left staring at the empty spot where the coat had been, rubbing his temples and muttering:

Bill:

“Kid’s gonna be the death of me. In the best possible way.”

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Post for Reggie's birthday

CW: Mentions of depressive thoughts and self harm

Muggle AU

****

Regulus felt like shit even before he opened his eyes. The sense of nausea and the strong headache hit him like a lightning strike. All he wanted was to stay in bed and buried his existance inside the blankets.

But maybe Regulus had to force himself to class. No, it was the weekend he was sure. Sunday, yes. That was good. He had an excuse not to do anything.

People shouldn't drink. Alcohol was dreaful. That was why Regulus prefered weed. He had drunk at parties but never to the point of having a hangover like this. It had all had been because Sirius had insisted...

Shit, the flashes of last night memories came back to Regulus. Drinking with Sirius at his hiding spot by the lake, walking through corridors he didn't even know that existed in the castle, getting really pissed, being dragged by Sirius into the Gryffindor Common Room, commenting how awful the decoration was and being silenced by his brother. Giggles, laughter, more giggles and laughter.

And of course, ending the night insulting James Potter, vomiting on the carpet inside his brother's dorm, and hugging Sirius begging for forgiveness.

Regulus sat up in bed, realizing this was not his. Red covers. Red walls, forgein posters around it, The Marauders read in a sign stuck to the door.

Regulus had slept inside a Gryffindor Dorm, specifically his brother's.

Then the pain in his head got stronger and he got dizzy. Regulus wished he was one of those people who forgot everything they did while drunk, because he was regretting every single decision that was detailed in his brain but it was as if someone else had done them.

Regulus was on Sirius's bed he assumed. He had his weird drawing stuck on the wall and it was the nearest the window. Sirius loved windows.

The other beds were empty (thank god) except for the one right in front with two boys cuddled very close to each other. Lupin and Reg's own brother. Sirius had left him his so he could sleep with Lupin.

Yes, he knew they were together despite the fact they tried to hide it for the rest of the world. But still Regulus didn't know what to feel about it. Not because Lupin was a boy, but because Lupin was one of the causes of all of their problems.

Regulus decided he needed to run. Better pretend last night never happened.

The Slytherin boy tried to be careful not to make any noise. He got out of bed and realized he was wearing Sirius's clothes. He shook away the brief and nice sensation of feeling protected. That was dangerous.

Regulus put some shoes on, at least he hoped they were his shoes, and tiptoed to the door. He cursed under his breath when the wooden floor creaked and Sirius woke up. He had always been a lightsleeper.

"Morning Reggie" he whispered.

Shit, Regulus was so close to the door. He faced defeat as Sirius yawned and stretched.

"I'm leaving"

Sirius silenced him with his finger and pointed at the sleeping boy next to him.

It was true that when Sirius got out of bed, Regulus was panicking. He had wanted to avoid comfrontation from his brother.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius whispered as he walked to him, cheeky smile on his face.

"Never drinking again" Reg whispered back.

Sirius shrugged still smiling "We all say that. We still continue drinking"

Though Regulus founded pointless. It just caused damage.

"The others?"

"James is probably in his morning excersice" Wanker "Peter might've gone for breakfast with the girls"

Regulus remembered the four of them had tried to get him to bed and babysit him like a freaking child who didn't want to sleep. How embarrassing.

"I should probably go" Regulus said awkwardly "I shouldn't be here"

Not exactly for the school rules. He stopped caring about them long time ago. It was something else.

"I had good time last night" Sirius's eyes were literally glowing. Reg was understanding why he ressembled a dog.

The truth was that Regulus had an excellent night. It had been years since the two brothers had spent time together. Not without fighting or yelling at each other. Regulus had let himself be dragged outside the castle, into the forest. Sirius showed him a secret place that looked to be taken out of a fairytale. Then Sirius had taken a bottle from under his shirt.

Regulus started drinking because Sirius had dared him. But as alcohol loosened them they had talked, and joked, and laughed and maybe confessed things. It had been fun.

Regulus had missed his brother so much. He had missed this. Actually he wasn't sure he had had it in the first place. That was why these moments were golden for Reg. Even if maybe Sirius was bored and lonely and he just needed company.

But Regulus couldn't admit it. If he did now, everything would crumble. And he might never see Sirius again. Or Sirius might hate him forever. Regulus's plan had to work.

"Me too" he confessed, but then he quickly added "It was irresponsible, though. It shouldn't have happened"

"Why?" Sirius asked "Doubt you care about teachers since you've been skipping classes and avoiding homework"

What Regulus hated the most about Lupin being his tutor was that he told his boyfriend everything.

"Who is the one talking? Heard you did the same"

Sirius shook his head.

"You can waste time and get drunk with Mulciber and the others but not your older brother?" Sirius crossed his arms.

"They are my friends"

They weren't. He was just pretending.

"Since when do you like those people? I mean Snivellus hangs with them"

"I don't say anything about your friends, Sirius!" Reg snapped.

"Yet you insulted each one of them last night" Sirius grinned "Especially James. You wanted to punch him"

Regulus really despised that twat. But he still was embarrassed.

"Gotta go" He walked to the door and opened it.

Sirius closed it before he could leave.

"I just want to understand something, Reg"

Regulus wanted to escape. He was vulnerable and hangover. Sirius was too intelligent to notice his brother was lying.

"You've changed" Sirius added "You don't hang out with Crouch anymore, but the most disgusting crowd in Slytherin"

Barty understood it was all part of his plan.

"You're a heartbreaker now" Sirius continued enlisting "You date two girls at the same time when before you haven't even been interested in them"

He wasn't interested. It all had been a confusion. He didn't know how to get rid of Alice. And despite what other people say, Pandora was just his friend. Well, kind of.

"You speak like a total twat now, like a spolied rich boy" Sirius tutted "You know who you are ressembling more and more? Father"

That was the plan. Orion needed to like Regulus better. He needed to accept his son as the new heir. And leave Sirius alone. Otherwise he was going to make his life miserable.

Regulus was trying hard not to cry like the whinny little boy he used to be. Like the depressed arsehole he was.

Sirius needed to believe it in order to work.

"This is not you, Reg"

"Maybe it is" Regulus snapped with arms crossed "What if this is me?"

Regulus sensed Lupin was moving in his sleep and if he woke up, Sirius would stop caring about his brother. Potter was first. Lupin was first. Sirius just felt guilty for what had happened and how he left.

If Sirius didn't care then why was Regulus doing all of this? It was his depressive side talking that wasn't able to shut up.

Regulus reached for the door again. Sirius stopped him.

"Are mother and father forcing you to do this?" Sirius asked with concern "Is mother?"

It ached the way Walburga was drowning herself and Regulus couldn't do anything about it. Sirius just hated her. Regulus wished he could hate her that easily. But he loved her so much it hurt, because she was awful. She was not easy to love.

"Leave mother out of this"

"She can be very manipulative, especially with you"

Regulus hated those kind of comments. Those made Regulus feel weak and hate himself more than he already did.

"Just let me go, Sirius"

But Sirius was on the door, practically blocking Regulus's exit, escape route.

"You don't have to turn you into the heir they want. Just like they tried to do with me"

"Someone has to take your place"

"It doesn't have to be you"

Regulus's heart was beating fast. He needed to get out. He needed air.

"Sirius, please just let me go"

"So what? You can let them turn you into something you're not?" Sirius was raising his voice. Regulus's eyes flickered to the bult on Lupin's bed.

"They. are. not. doing. that"

It was really difficult to breathe.

"So that you can be the heir and miserable for the rest of your life?" Sirius carried on "So you can be just like father and mother. Full of pretending appeareances and smiles. Both still married but hating each other. And craving more money like a drug even if they already have enough... Manipulating people's lives even their own kids's"

"Sirius, move!"

And Regulus was speaking loudly because he was panicking. He felt like he was dying. On the burst of a panic attack.

"I'm not letting you go so you can be miserable and depressive because of them!" Sirius yelled back "So you would do this again"

Sirius grabbed Regulus's arm and the boy understood.

He still had some scars from the incident back in summer. He took pills that numbed him so he hadn't done it again. Although Regulus had wanted to. He had needed it many times.

Regulus knew he had scarred Sirius with his doing. He was crying now, shaking with fear. That was it.

Sirius was worried Regulus would hurt himself again. It was guilt and worry. Not love. Not like the one he felt for his precious Marauders.

"What's going on?"

Lupin was already awake, looking between the two brothers with concern. Regulus didn't know if Sirius had told him about summer, but he suspected Lupin had been awake a long time ago and he probably had overheard them.

If not, Sirius's tears would probably give it away.

"Moony..." he mumbled under his breath.

Regulus was already furious. He ripped his arm away.

"Very mature, Sirius"

He pushed his brother away from the door saying "Let me go" and opened it.

Sirius didn't stop him this time. He was crying.

"And don't worry" Reg added before leaving "I'm not going to kill myself"

Regulus said it because he knew it would hurt his brother the most. Then he slammed the door closed behind him. Lupin would figure it out anyway.

Regulus heard perfectly the way his brother yelled, cursed and banged the door from the other side. That was Sirius, pure fury.

This was better. If Regulus became the heir, Sirius could have the happy life he wanted. Live with his new family, date his boyfriend and do whatever he liked.

Regulus could take the burden. He was dead anyway.

[ashkabbom]

Can you please write quiet gn/male reader cuddling with Shinso and Monoma (both together)? Like they (mostly Monoma) be ranting about whatever and he/they wants the two to shut up and cuddle him/them.

A/n: In my defense, it took me a while to get back to Tumblr in general, because I actually went looking for a job, I started drawing again and school took up my time. That's why I'm taking advantage of this Sunday :> And this one ended up shorter than what I normally write because I didn't really know how to elaborate on this story.

I made a GN!Reader so I hope there is no problem, so much so that in the end the reader did not say any sentence and his gender/pronouns are not mentioned at any time.

Bedtime, no arguments.

→Shinso x Monoma x GN!Reader

Your night was peaceful… or at least it should have been, because FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

You just wanted a moment of peace, something simple, like resting next to Shinso and Monoma without having to listen to a barrage of endless arguments. But of course, Monoma didn't make it easy.

You love him, obviously, but like this... Yes, Monoma, we understand that you Class B people have the spotlight stolen constantly, now go to bed, tomorrow is another day with a new beginning.

"I'm telling you two! Shinso, it's completely unfair! Class A gets all the attention, while we in Class B are left out!" Monoma gestured exaggeratedly, wanting to strongly prove his point.

Shinso sighed, throwing his head back. "We've talked about this before." He replied without much enthusiasm or beating around the bush. "Several times."

You, sitting between the two, just watching the clash, the spectacle, happen again.

You had a wish and hoped that any cosmic entity and mercy would hear your prayers. Your wish? Simple and obvious: a little silence and affection. But asking for it directly? Hard to happen.

Not because you were embarrassed or anything, but because Monoma would continue to debate until the next era, and Shinso, even though bored, would still respond from time to time. This cycle was interesting at times, but it also sucked when you were tired.

But you wouldn't give up on this war, you wouldn't lose this time. They could have won several battles, but in the end you would be the one who would come out victorious in this war. Then, without warning, you decided to act. You pulled them both in one quick, forceful movement, and laid down on top of them, nestling between them without caring about their complaints.

"W-What?!" Monoma widened his eyes, clearly unprepared for the sudden attack and invasion of personal space.

Shinso blinked, but soon relaxed, accepting the change without question. "Finally, something useful." He muttered, running his fingers through your hair absently.

"H-hey, you can't just use us as a pillow to escape the conversation!" Monoma argued against it, but didn't move away. On the contrary, he looked a little hesitant, his cheeks flushed.

You mumbled something incomprehensible, probably telling him to shut up, only snuggling closer. Monoma opened his mouth to continue complaining, but decided against it. Sighing dramatically, he crossed his arms. "Hmf. That's unfair… but just this once."

Shinso smirked, running his fingers through his hair. "Great tactic. Totally effective." And finally, silence and coziness took over the moment. You could finally rest with your boyfriends.

[pumpqueen-tl]

Better late than never... ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

I have to admit that many times, besides feeling tired, I give in to rest and therefore no longer do everything I said I was going to do buuuut... I also saved the activity for the last week of July because... P.S. It seemed more congruent than doing it halfway through and I didn't want to miss out on participating in SoMa Week. So... Here it goes:

1 Day: Saints - Angel

POV: Soul

POV: Soul

Short explanation: The day Maka gave birth to her firstborn, she knew she had no choice. She stood before the angels of her life, the only ones who could kill him and bring him back to life with a single word and a single look.

Long explanation: The topic of how Maka decided to become a mother is complicated, and Soul (better than anyone) knows this. Perhaps that's why, when Maka decided to take the next step in her marriage and thought it was time to become parents, Soul began to see her as a true angel, not only for giving him offspring (I have the headcanon that Soul is one of those reluctant men who brags about being an eternal bachelor... until he starts dating Maka. It's then that marriage and family don't sound as bad as he once thought they did, but that's a separate topic.) but also because the pregnancy was complicated for both of them. However, he knows that for Maka, it was twice, if not three times as exhausting and terrifying. Although their pregnancy is something I plan to explore more in-depth much later, I just want to clarify that Maka became a strict but extremely loving mother. I think something in Maka's heart and soul changed when she saw her daughter in her arms for the first time, letting go of the terror and uncertainty, and she cried because she couldn't understand her mother's abandonment, like Medusa's abuse of Crona.

2 Day: Trouble (Double Trouble)

(My favorite of the three drawings, I admit)

I didn't mean to be too literal with the theme: At first, I thought Soul would be complicated by not knowing which pack of sanitary pads to bring Maka, and while it's a theme I find interesting (learning to deal with your female companion's problems when you don't have sisters and were isolated from the world) and one I'd like to explore, in the end I decided on something less... Hmm, expected?

What if Soul and Maka were the villains of the story? What if they switched places with Crona and Ragnarok?

I think: throughout the work, it's emphasized that Soul would be nothing without Maka and Maka would be nothing without Soul, and that together, they are powerful, so if both were the villains, it would be an unstoppable danger.

I can imagine a Crona studying at Shibusen, loved by her loving mother Medusa, a DMWA nurse, dreaming of one day becoming a great technician, with an anomalous ability that allows her to harbor her partner within her body (Ragnarok), and who, by chance, ended up confronting this couple inside the church in Italy.

A meeting that almost ended in tragedy.

It's a story that I would like to develop further, I think I have already thought about the end haha

3 Day: Charm

I got this idea from a Spanish fan fic, more specifically: "Novios por ahora" by Guardia Fuego on Wattpad.

Spoiler alert: Soul is discovering his feelings for Maka and suddenly realizes he's always watching her read from afar.

I never pay attention, but I'm always captivated by her, by the attention she pays when she reads, when she starts to babble paragraphs, and... How beautiful she looks when she concentrates.

That's all for today. I'll upload three more on Saturday, and the final one on Sunday! 💖

Although I'm not sure yet about the final one. Of the ones I'll upload soon, I have a favorite drawing that I'll definitely convert to digital.

[plutoispurplw]

Cardigan

Summary: Spencer is having dudes about his feelings towards JJ and reader can't bear it.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Spencer being a bad boyfriend, mention of prision and drugs.

A/N: I just write this because haunted of my favorite blonde but ended up in cardigan. Second part is probably in saturday or sunday.

Second part!

All these years for what? He always gonna dude about their relationship.

After he was held hostage with JJ he started to act differently towards you, he was more cold and looked guilty when you tried to hug him.

In a case when you both shared a room, you lay down on the bed by his side, it was almost midnight. You try to move closer to him but he just moves away just a little, you get nervous for a moment but you decide to push the thoughts aside.

"Spencer I wanna talk with you about something important." You look at him in the eyes, sitting against the gray headboard of the bed.

"I notice that you've been acting weird and-"

He didn't let you finish, normally he wouldn’t do that and less in a conversation like this. "Please don't start now Y/N, nothing is happening with me. Let's just sleep okay?" The tone of his voice was annoyed and sounded tired, his facial expression was annoyed

You felt your heart break a little at his words but you tried to mend it by telling yourself that he maybe was frustrated with the case and that you have to stop overthinking.

Nothing was wrong.

You lay down again in the bed and put the beige blanket over your body and his. "Okay, I'm sorry, I was just worried about you and if something was wrong."

His expression changed again and he looked filled with guilt. "Don't apologize, you just were worried. Let's just sleep okay, sweetheart?" It was the name that he called you but it felt like ice against your warm skin. It was burning but you could bear it.

You started to be more worried, maybe he was having problems again with drugs? That would explain the guilty face that receives you when you kiss him.

Questions, that what you had so you started to ask him what was happening but he always denied everything, he thought that you were that stupid?

In the wedding of Rossi, you notice the looks between him and JJ, but you decide to ignore that even if it gives you a bad feeling in your guts, maybe you just were exaggerating.

Weeks later he and you were in the apartment, he was sitting on the couch reading a book, and you approached him and sat on his lap. Normally he would put the book down and kiss you but now he didn't do that, he kept reading like you weren't there.

"Spencer, what's happening?" Your voice was tired this time, you were tired of this, of never knowing what was wrong.

He put the book down and looked at you in the eyes, he looked annoyed by you again, and you felt hurt. "Nothing is happ-"

Now you were the one interrupting him, your voice was louder. "Stop saying that, I know something is wrong so just tell me what is happening."

He put you on the couch and got up, he was pacing around the living room, he looked stressed out and you were just looking at the floor. That's when he starts talking.

When you hear his words your mind when just blank, and your face doesn’t have any emotions for a moment, the only thing that could betray your sadness is that the characteristic light in your gaze is gone.

How he could heal and draw over your scars just to make new ones, scars that would never heal.

After that you started to cry, all your emotions were being poured into your salty tears. He tried to comfort you but you didn't let him.

"You feel something for her?" He stayed quiet, he didn't look at your eyes. That told you everything that you have to know.

How could he love her? You were the one who listened to his rants and facts. You were the one who comforted him when he had nightmares or couldn't sleep because of the memories from prison, from his addiction, from everything bad that happened to him. You were the one who always loved him and the one who would give their life without thinking for him.

"She is married and she has kids Spencer!" You yell at him, anger starts to grow inside you along with the sadness from your broken heart.

"I know," He calmly told you, how could he be calm after breaking your heart?

Maybe you weren't that important to him, maybe you were the consolation prize after all.

"Y/N, I love you, I need you to know that." His hands cupped your face, hands that were always delicate with you, like you were a doll of porcelain. For an instant, you were gonna get closer to kiss him, But you noticed his gaze, filled with guilt and pity for you.

You got up and ran towards the bedroom, the suitcase on the bed while you were filling it with clothes and your things. Tears wetting your clothes and your cheeks.

He then spoke again. "Please wait Y/N, calm down." He tried to hug you from behind you, it felt like he was trying to contain you.

You turn around and push him away from your body, from your embrace. "Stop saying that I need to calm down! You just said that maybe you still love Jennifer, how the fuck do you want me to feel about it?" You yell at him at the top of your lungs. You take a deep breath and keep packing your things.

He let you keep packing the suitcase, he didn't try to stop you again.

When you ended up filling your suitcase you walked to the principal door of the apartment, ready to go anywhere but here, you couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in the same bed where he told you that he loved you for the first time.

When you look back you find him with his eyes crystallized, the guilt was consuming him. Your fool heart broke again at the sight of him like this but your brain didn’t let you go back so you stepped out of the apartment.

After that you came to our friend's house and told her everything, she let you cry on her shoulder and told you to stay and don't go back still.

In the middle of the night, you woke up, wishing that this was just a really bad dream but that didn't happen, you were in the guest room alone.

Now you couldn't sleep without his welcoming warm that embraces you through the most cold nights.

After all, you always gonna be his second choice, the one that he could always count on to comfort him even if he didn't reciprocate your feelings.

You should know better than wanting to hug him and forgive him but you couldn't help that feeling, you thought that he was the love of your life, the father of your kids, the one you would die with.

You put your hand on top of your belly, how you were supposed to tell him that you were pregnant with his child after that? You didn't know what to do.

You felt like an old cardigan under someone's bed waiting to be found again and be used.

[meredithgran]

About Newspaper Comics

An ask cross-posted from Cohost, which is not long for this world.

Anonymous User asked: I would like to know your opinions about newspaper comics

This is a very choose your own adventure kind of question. Am I meant to speak about the art or the business of newspaper strips? The current state of newspaper comics or their century-spanning history? Stream of consciousness it is.

Newspaper comics were the original dream for me before all other dreams. I fell in love with Garfield and the story of its success, and wanted to make a syndicated strip at an early age. Later, I fell in love with Calvin and Hobbes - itself a lesson in craft, history and business - and abandoned the syndication dream for “art by any means necessary”, and dove into webcomics. (There were a few more steps along the way, but that’s the basic trajectory and not uncommon for my age.)

In the 80s and 90s when I was dreaming Garfield dreams, syndicated newspaper strips were already dying. They’d been jam packed so tightly into rectangles in the comics section that no room for great cartooning remained. The schedules were brutal, the audience was broad and apt to complain, and the aging comics legends were phoning in or delegating their work, so even the full-page Sunday strips were gridded and lifeless. Even fresh new artists (rare as they were) were hammered creatively into the shape of the paper. The death of most major newspapers from the late 00s onward spelled the end of Garfield Meredith's dream.

The thing is, Garfield Meredith would be very pleased with the present day. Comics are bountiful, they're free to read online, and they're all accessible from a single app. Even better, the creators interact with their audiences day and night. In comics we have safely returned to the late-stage newspaper syndication model, after a brief "art by any means" era, with 24/7 access to the creators as a bonus. It goes without saying that most of the money these comics generate goes to the platform. As more people discover online comics, the memory of any other model has faded. Comics is a pushover industry, easily steamrolled by detached parties with money.

So what do we do? I'm afraid that's not what this post is about. Mom's tired. My heads is not really in the comics game anymore, and big tech & our rotting internet is a problem everywhere. But I think discussions about our history as cartoonists and comics appreciators - and an acknowledgment of what is disappearing - is important. It's no surprise that Bill Watterson's stubborn refusal to license, adapt, or needlessly continue his creation past its prime shocked me and many others onto a different path. I think it is useful to be a high-functioning crank in your own age: to fully accept the now without forgetting past possibilities or drawing a border around the future.

And of course, we mustn't let current trends tame our wild imaginations or our command of the craft. We have been given the tools to create beauty and make sense of life, and these creations - not the platforms that indiscriminately corral them - are worth sharing.

[rhey-007]

I can't help falling in love with you

serial killer!Max Verstappen x reader || 18+

Summary: Moving back to your childhood house was never in your plans, but after your parents' death you couldn't let go of it. After moving in and meeting your new neighbor everything seemed to fall apart, but you're too oblivious to notice the obvious.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, GORE (gutting), mentions of smut, kidnapping, restraining, torture, violance, female reader, creepy/jealous/yandere Max

A/N: It's Halloween y'all! So I decided to write a Halloween horror story :)) It's the first time I wrote something like this but I feel like it's good. And I've been writing it for past 2 weeks and can't seem to finish so there will be a part 2 on Sunday 😭 + sorry for typos 😬

Wordcount: 4364

P2

༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃

Moving back to your childhood house was never in your plans. But there you were, standing in front of the small, falling appart house taking a deep breath and opening the creeking door. The noise was so loud you could bet the whole street heard it.

After one last breath you slowly walked in. The inside looked just as you remembered, but old, dirty and dusty. Family photos hanged where they always did – you were surprised your parents haven’t taken them down after you left – an old bouquet of dead flowers stood on the welcoming console – you already planned on keepping them as you loved collecting dried flowers.

Walking further in you noticed your old drawings still hanged on the fridge door – neither of them dirty or ripped – as well as all your magnets from various family trips. In the living room your baby blanket layed on the sofa.

It surprised you, everything as for right now showed that your parents never forgot about you even though you didn’t have any contact. You wondered if your room looked the same as you left it, and it did. You always thought your parents would change it into a home gym or something like that but it was left untouched, only your favourite teddy bear was missing.

Roaming the house further you’ve found it in your parents’ bedroom on the nightstand. Tears started to fill your eyes, you were so cruel for them for the past few years and they never forgot about you, even tried to have you as close as they could even though you were far, far away. Warm hands creeping around your waist shook you out of your trance.

“Hey, it’s okay...”

Your boyfriend George whispered and placed a kiss on top of your head before spinning you around and pressing against his chest into a tight hug. A few tears fell down your cheeks, wetting George’s shirt but he didn’t mind. You were greatful you had him, especially in such hard times.

After you calmed down the two of you went back downstairs to bring inside your suitcases and boxes with stuff. A young man, new neighboor, caught your eye when you left.

He was mowing the grass, or rather struggling with turning on his old lawnmower, and he noticed you too. He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his neck while a soft blush appeared on his face. You chuckled a little and asked George to come over with you and offer help.

The man agreed with a sigh and soon you were standing in front of your neighbours house. It was way bigger and prietter than yours, which made you wonder and imagine what it looked like inside. It looked like a mansion outside so you thought it had to look so bougey inside too.

“Hi, we’re your new neighbours. Well... kind of... I lived here as a kid”

You explained quickly with a sweet smile.

“I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend George, can we help you?”

You introduced yourself and George before offering help which the man reluctantly agreed to.

“I’m Max, nice meeting you. And I’m sorry for the problem... I really need to buy a new lawnmower but don’t really have time...”

Max sighed and smiled awkwardly at you while George tried to turn on the machine and you chatted with Max. He moved in a few years ago so he might have known your parents.

He admitted he was an owner of quite a big company, that was why he lived in such a luxury but you wondered why he opted for a small house in the suburbs instead of a flat in the middle of the town. He on the other hand, found out that you were a daughter of his late neighbours.

“They were good people”

He said, but you knew better. Max watched you closely as you talked, watched how your dimples showed when you smiled, how your ginger hair shined in the sun, how you fiddled with your fingers as if you were anxious but your demeanor said otherwise. Just in those few minutes the man was able to memorise your behaviour and ticks.

After a few tries and some digging in the engine, your boyfriend finally turned the machine on.

“There you go buddy”

He smiled kindly.

"Now excuse us, we gotta head back to unpacking”

He politely excused yourselves before leaving.

“I wish I could help but knowing my luck if I turn this shit off right now I won’t be able to turn it back on later. But! Maybe you could come over and eat supper with me and my friend? Will 6pm be okay?”

“Oh um... I-I'm not sure... We don’t want to be a burden...”

“Oh you wouldn’t, believe me. Daniel loves meeting new people and I could pay off the debt... Sooo? “

"I’ll have to ask George but I’m sure he’ll agree”

“Great! Then see ya later, good luck!”

“Good luck to you too!”

You waved goodbye before rushing off to help George with a heavy box. He insisted on carrying it in by himself, but you knew better to not let him or he’d break something, again...

༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃

By the time the evening came you were done cleaning almost the whole house and unpacking just the most necessary things. George wasn’t keen on eating supper with the newly met neighbour and his friend but you’ve managed to convince him with a fun time afterwards. It always worked.

You changed from your house clothes to something more suitable but still comfortable for a meeting and left dragging your boyfriend behind yourself. You didn’t even manage to knock or ring the doorbell when a tall, dark haired man opened the door and let you in.

"I’m Daniel. You’re new neighbours right?”

He greeted eagerly, shaking your hands like crazy. The man was full of energy which terriffied you a little, but it quickly changed further into the night.

“Daniel don’t scare them!”

Max’s voice rumbled in the kitchen .

“Come in, don’t be scared. He’s just excited! "

Walking into the kitchen you could finally take a good look at the interior. It was just how you imagined it to. Modern with a hint of vintage, light walls, golden chandelier hanging above the glass table and fully equipped and up to date kitchen – which you could only dream about. It was beautiful.

You sat down by the table after George pulled a chair for you, as he always would. You’d never thought you’ll find yourself a true gentleman but there he was, all yours. Inhaling the scent of the dish made you remember about saturdays at home.

Your mom used to always make lasagna on saturdays, it was so delicious, you remembered it’s taste even now when you haven’t eaten it for years – and you won’t anymore. Max sitting in front of you with a huge smile made you realize the table was fully set and Daniel and George already started to eat.

“Something wrong?”

The man asked quietly to which you responded with a slight shake of your head and a smile, before trying the food. It was delicious, so delicious you couldn’t believe the blonde made it.

„Homemade or ordered? "

Asking bluntly you felt George's elbow poke your side. It wasn't really polite from you but Max didn’t care.

„Homemade. I know it tastes too good, but I tried my best and it paid off”

The man admitted. He wasn’t affected badly by your question, instead responded with a warm smile that didn’t seem to ever fall. Your honesty impressed while your beauty amazed him.

The supper was enjoyable. Daniel turned out to be a really sweet guy, just a little overjoyed, considering the fact he scared you a tad at first.

Following the meal came board games and wine, even though George wasn’t happy to compete with Max against you and Daniel, but you kind of addpoted the tall man. He was too cute to ignore, making your boyfriend hella jelous, but you were going to recompensate him that later anyway.

The two of you won every round of whatever game, which didn’t please Max. You could see it. You could see the way the vain on his forehead throbbed while he struggled with George, how his hands curled in fists every time Daniel laughed at him, but he tried not to explode as best as he could.

You felt bad for the blonde. Daniel later explained that he was a bad looser but worked on it and that such session was good for him. It made you feel relieved at least a little bit.

When the night started to fall and more and more yawns escaped your lips George decided that it was time to leave. You reluctanlty got up and gave Daniel a huge goodbye hug before shaking Max’s hand and leaving the mansion with George’s arm wrapped around your waist.

When you made it to your new bedroom – which was an old guest room – you insisted on pleasing your boyfriend just as you promised, even though he said you didn’t have to as he knew you were tired. But you were too stubborn and soon George layed underneeth you half naked as you undressed yourself, his hands roaming your body.

Sitting up the man wrapped them around your waist pulling you closer while his lips planted soft kissed along your jaw then down your torso. You couldn’t bother to close the curtains, no one could see you anyway, especially in the dim light of your small nightstand lamp.

But a feeling of someone watching you was constantly appearing in the back of your head.

After you, left also Daniel, leaving Max alone in his huge house - as always. The man didn’t feel alone in it, not anymore knowing that a beautiful and georgous woman like you lived just across the street.

Instead of cleaning the mess Max made his way upstairs to his master bedroom. Not turning on the light but instead opening the curtains letting the moonlight in, the man sat on his bed watching every your move, trying to remember every detail about your body and how it moved.

He wished he was the one laying on the bed, surveying your body, touching your soft, pale skin as you undressed, instead of your stupid boyfriend.

The blonde couldn’t believe someone like George was able to pull you, such a sweet and mesmerizing creature. Have you not noticed his humongous, terrifying eyes staring into your soul? It was quite long since someone caught Max’s eye the way you did. All of them were awlays already taken, but not for long...

༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃

A few months passed since you moved back to your childhood house. Those few months were very calm and enjoying although you always had a feeling someone watched you. Watched your every step, every move, everything you did. Also some of your things started to disappear, or maybe it was just your amazing ability to loose them.

All the free time you had, you used to bring the building back to life. It looked way better than before. Fresh, pastel yellow paint graced the outdoors walls, pots filled with red flowers hanged from the ceiling on the porch, a white, wooden swing sat there too.

The only thing you still had to work on was the lawn, but you needed George’s help who worked longer hours than you, coming back home late in the evening, drained from life and any energy.

You told him multiple times to change the job as the money wasn’t adequate to working hours nor the amount of things he did, but he refused saying he won't be able to find a better one.

Sometimes you wondered if he enjoyed the work and exhaustement, that's why he refused to leave. Him not having a job wouldn't have changed much anyway, you've earned more than him anyway and your salary alone was able to cover all the expenses.

Max saw that too. He noticed how you struggled alone with the lawn, just to quickly give up and go back inside, how you did all the chores around the house by yourself which clearly pissed you off.

He noticed that your boyfriend came back home late, not able to please your needs or at least talk with you. If it was him on George's place he wouldn’t care if he was tired or not, instead being all over you the moment he came back home, doing everything you needed him to and more, talking with you about everything and nothing.

He couldn’t let you suffer because of him. No... He had to do something about that.

One night George didn’t come back home at all, which made you worry. He could either be cheating on you or something happened, there was no other option.

To addition to your worry he didn’t answer your calls nor texted back. It was midnight when you heard a car pulling up, you shot up from the couch and run up to the window just to be disappointed immediately.

It was just Max coming back from work. It was weird though, he never came back so late. You sighed and decided to call it a day and try to contact your boyfriend the next day. But he didn’t answer then either, nor the next day.

You finally decided to go to the police station and report his missing. They took it immediately and they assured you they’d try their best to find him. But they didn’t succeed...

༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃

That day George was back home way before you, wanting to surprise you with a dinner he was about to make, then try to clean the house as much as he could.

He walked into the house, not bothering to lock the door behind himself, then stepped into the kitchen and dropped the bags full of ingredients onto the kitchen counter.

After changing into home clothes, George started to prepare everything needed for the spaghetti, when he felt a huge pain in the back of his head and his vision went black.

The man woke up after a few hours, to the sound of classical music and sharpening knives. He tried rubbing his head, but was restrained, tied to a chair in a dark basement.

„You finally woke up Georgie”

Russell heard a voice say, but was unable to tell who the person standing in front of him was, because of the darkness. The lamp hanging above his head barely lightened him, not reaching far into the room. The man walked up to George and put his sharp knife under his chin, making him look up.

„You thought one dinner would be able to recompensate Y/N all the time she has to spent to keep the house in a good condition?... "

A sharp laugh vibrated through the room, until it suddenly stopped and the knife pressed against George's neck.

„You're funny "

The strange man stepped closer to George, the light finally hitting his face. Max smiled maniacally, he was going to have whole lotta fun...

Russell’s head hit the metal table, almost knocking him out before Max splashed cold water onto his face.

„Uh, uh, uh. No sleepin, we haven’t even started "

The man strapped him down then approached a trolley, his fingers running through the various torture tools he owned.

„What should I use first... "

Max wondered out loud while George tried to release himself, without success.

„Wha-what do you even want from me?! What have I done?! "

He screamed into the dutch'es face after he turned around, holding a pair of scissors then cutting George’s sweater in half.

„Oh you know well what you've done. If you were smart enough, you'd notice I even said it”

The man could feel Max's cold finger run down his chest to his abs. He picked back his knife and pressed it to George’s stomach, pushing it slowly in and listening how the man screamed in pain.

When the knife was deep enough, he made a sharp move, opening him up and revealing his intestinal tract.

„Looked at these beauties... "

Max peaked inside, opening the wound more and more while Russel choked on his tears. He breathed heavily, which was hard because of the toument, fear spreading through his whole body.

„Is this really... J-just about me... Not having time?... "

He managed to choke out while looking down his body, the sight made him sick. Max's fingertips were already covered in blood, from touching the intestines, his lips spread in a horrific smile, eyes shining in awe at the sight.

„I knew... I knew there was something wrong with you... You better stay... Stay away from her! "

He tried to fight, but the slightest move turned into an unbearable agony.

„Well... It's not like you’re gonna do anything about this lover boy. Not anymore at least... "

Max shrugged and flashed George his white teeth then his hand dipped inside his stomach to soon pull out the large intestine. Russell cried out in pain, closing his eyes which angried Verstappen.

Throwing the organ to the ground he opened his eyes with force. He clipped his eyelids pulling them softly out so his humongous, blue eyes could stay open the whole time and watch the terror.

„You're gonna watch how I ruin you, either you like it or not... "

The man whispered into George’s ear, his hot breath made a shiver run down his spine, their eyes locked. Max's hand traveled back to the wound, slowly creeping inside.

„I want you to say it... Say sorry for your absence... "

He whispered once again before straightening up and watching George from above. He studied his face, how his nose scrunched at the pain, eyes desperately trying to close and chest rising and falling rapidly.

He liked that sight. No. He loved it. He loved to cause him pain, thinking it was fair and well deserved. The man pulled out his small intestine, inch by inch, waiting for the apology.

„I-I'm sorry okay... I-I tried... I tried... I should have... I should have changed the fucking job god!... I fucked... I know I did... But it's not a reason to kill me you psycho!”

With one sharp pull his small intestine was out and on the ground, blood splattered everywhere, some sticking to Max's face. In that moment he looked like a true serial killer and George started to fear about you.

„That's the only thing I wanted to hear. Now... See you on the other side”

With that words Max reached for George’s heart pulling it out with one go and finally killing the man. He then stripped him off the meat and the skin from the face, hanging the later made mask obove his desk.

„Well... It surely was fun... "

„Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you... „

༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃

It was a month since you last saw him. The first few weeks you cried yourself to sleep which hurt Max. It hurt him to look at you in that miserable state, crying over a man that didn’t even deserve you.

Weirdly, he was the only person able to fully comfort you. He invited you over for dinner or supper every day or visited you to join eating so you wouldn’t be alone, he helped you around the house – even hired a maid in the first weeks to help you.

The man was so sweet and caring, he made you forget about George by the time Christmas came. He then thought he finally had a chance with you until you appeared on his porch, holding a hand of some strange man, introducing him as your new boyfriend.

“Max, this is my new boyfriend, Sergio. Sergio, Max is my neighbour – obviously – and my close friend”

You smiled up at both men as they shook each other’s hands, Max gripping Checo’s tightly giving him a death glare. Max understood you tried to finally move on and live a normal life, but why couldn’t you move on to him?

After all those things he had done for you, all the nights he’s spent by your side, all the money he’s spent on you, you chose some stranger over him?

Blood boiled in his vains thinking about it and watched your new boyfriend hand him a Christmas gift. He accepted it only because of you, smiling sweetly when you were leaving.

‘’I don’t think he likes me...’’

Sergio whispered as you walked away but you just shook your head with a chuckle.

Checo was just as sweet as George. You tried not to compare them together but it was too hard. You've noticed they were really similar, but Checo had way more time for you than George did.

You've also noticed the change in Max's behaviour, it wasn’t anything big but after a year of your friendship you knew when something was wrong, you just couldn’t figure out what. It started when he met Sergio and from then on he was so cold towards him, not like towards George.

The vain on his forehead was about to pop every time he saw you two together, everytime you smiled because of the Mexican, every time you laughed because of him.

„Was he jealous? "

You wondered but pushed that thought aside. He couldn’t, he was your friend after all.

Sergio was a dream boyfriend, a knight on a white horse. He helped you around the house, didn’t rush your relationship letting you get used to him before doing something and most importantly he truly listened to you and didn’t ignore even the stupidest of your fears or needs, not like George.

But the dream quickly fell appart when you let down your walls and the two of you got too comfortable around each other. He moved in with you without even asking, as his landlord kicked him out.

You couldn’t understand why thought. He had a well paid job yet couldn’t affort a low budget apartment? Well, turned out he lost it some time ago and haven’t told you about it.

From that time he stayed home all the time, doing shit, occasionally leaving in the evening for a few hours. He was really stressed and frustrated, sometimes rising his voice at you when you did something wrong, but then quickly apologising and offering a massage to comfort you.

But that aslo passed rather quickly and with time his shouting became a daily thing. One day he hit you. A juicy slap across your face, leaving a red mark.

You were fighting over his shouting again but this time he didn’t hold back. That’s when you found out how he really was.

Brutal, disregarding your opinion, caring only about sex and a ‘maid’, in one word – despot. Yet he was so sweet at the beginning. You felt fooled...

You were too scared to tell anyone, so scared the man would hurt you even more and you had enough of bruises and cuts you tried so good to cover.

No one seemed to notice it, beside Max. He didn’t want to mention them though, as he figured you wouldn’t like to talk about it.

Every time he invited you over for dinner you either didn’t come because Sergio didn’t let you, or came just for a few minutes before the man burst in and dragged you back home angrily.

Max couldn’t understand why you just didn’t kick him out and leave him. Only two months after Checo started to be aggressive he disappeared. You felt so good when he didn’t come back home for a few days straight and quickly threw away all his stuff. You finally felt free...

༶❃.✮:▹💀◃:✮.❃

Kidnapping Sergio was the easiest thing ever. The man wandered through the two , eventually stopping by one if the alleys and walking in. He lit a cigarette and watched the stary sky while waiting for a dealer. Soon a car parked in front of the alley, a hooded man walked out making his way towards Checo.  

„Here” 

He handed him the money and stretched his other hand waiting for stranger to give him the drugs. The man quickly took the money then tazed Checo, getting him unconscious.  

Slowly opening his eye, Sergio grunted in pain. His body was stiff, half naked, laying on cold metal. The man looked around, the only thing he was able to see was himself, but he could hear footsteps from behind. Trying to roll his head up, he noticed his hands tied to some machine and a back of a man, quietly humming an Elvis song.  

„Well... Well... Well... Look who has finally woken up... "

The Dutch smiled from ear to ear, making his way over to Perez.  

„Verstappen?! I knew there was something wrong with you! You better let me go or-"

„Or what? "

The blonde cut in.  

„It's not like you're gonna do something about this. You can’t afterall... Besides... You deserve it” 

Max hissed turning on the machine that bit by bit started to stretch Sergio's body. The Mexican screamed, wiggling and trying to break free but was tied too hard, only giving himself more pain.  

„You son of a bitch! You're a fucking monster! "

He shouted and spat on Max's face. The Dutch frowned and only turned up the speed slightly, after wiping his face.  

„I am a monster? Maybe tell it to Y/N, after all... You were the key hurting her. Not me... Now. You better apologize” 

He hissed and increased it even more, the screams and noises of breaking bones and muscles filled his ears, they sounded like honey. But Sergio wasn’t going to apologize. Nothing was going to make him to apologize for what he'd done. He'd rather die than say it.  

„Fine... "

Max sighed unsatisfied finally raising the pace to maximum. Sergio’s body teared in half, blood splattered everywhere making the man groan in pleasure and lick the blood off his lips.  

"Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you? "

[ducktoonsfanart]

Happy Birthday Donald, Daisy and Della Duck! - Happy Father's Day! - Donald with his nephews and his family - Quack Pack Week - Duckverse in June - My style and my version - Ducktales, Duck comics, Quack Pack and Duckverse - Happy 85th Birthday Daisy Duck! - Quack Pack AU

Sorry I'm already a week late, I had some problems, but I managed to finish it as I usually do. And I drew it related to the topics that cover two organizational weeks. On June 7, 1940, Donald’s classic short “Mr Duck Steps Out” was shown, featuring Daisy Duck for the first time. 9/6/1934 The Classic Short “The Wise Little Hen” was shown and Donald Duck appeared there for the first time. Donald Duck will become one of the main stars of not only Disney, but also cartoon films, comics and video games at all. Certainly there is no need to tell his history. And since Della, Donald’s twin, was born on the same day as Donald, then happy birthday to her too, in addition to Donald and Daisy. Happy birthday Donald, Daisy and Della Duck!

This time I drew them in Quack Pack style, or rather in Quack Pack AU (my version) celebrating their birthdays together, since their days coincide, plus Donald's birthday is also Friday the 13th, which happened this year, so another reason to celebrate! Plus of course Father's Day, which is celebrated every third Sunday in June. What makes me love Quack Pack is definitely the relationships between Unca Donald and his teenage nephews. Even though they had problems with each other, they looked out for each other and understood each other and had fun together. Especially the episodes "Ducky Dearest", "Phoniest Home Videos" and "Noisy Neighbors". And maybe the only animation that showed that besides the scenes in Ducktales and Mickey's Once Upon A Christmas. So it's not worth celebrating Donald's birthday without his nephews. In addition to Donald, Daisy and Della Duck, there are of course Donald's nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie, Phooey Duck, Daisy's nieces April, May and June Duck, Webby Vanderquack, Scrooge McDuck, Gyro Gearloose and his nephew Newton Gearloose (plus Little Helper), Fethry Duck and his nephew Dugan Duck. Combined from the Duck comics, OG Ducktales and Quack Pack creating versions of them in their own ways. In addition to Donald being a protector for his nephews and Daisy being a protector for her nieces, there are also other parents, such as Della Duck who is the mother of Huey, Dewey, Louie and Phooey, Gyro who is Uncle Newton, Fethry who is Uncle Dugan and Scrooge who is uncle to his adopted granddaughter-niece Webby. And they all enjoy three birthdays plus Father's Day together eating cherries and strawberry shortcake. My only apology is that it turned out like this, I had some troubles these days, so it turned out like this. Sorry! And sorry for the delay!

I hope you like this drawing, these characters and this idea and feel free to like and reblog this, just don't copy these same ideas and these versions, without mentioning me! Thank you! Also happy birthday to Donald, Daisy and Della Duck, and especially Daisy Duck who turns 85 this year! And happy Father's Day!

This is also dedicated to @quackpackweek, as well as to @duckverse-june, @queer-in-a-cornfield, @tokuvivor and @secret-tester. As well as for all of you who are fans of Donald Duck, Daisy Duck, Donald's nephews, Quack Pack and the duck family.