#I would love to reblog their art and be supportive in that way at least but tbh

[milkweedman]

The colors of the copper on blackberry dye seem to have shifted from maroon to a very rich milk chocolate brown--which I will hardly complain about, since that's a hard brown to get. I do hope I get something more permanently reddish/purplish with alum--that's what I'll try next. I'm just waiting for the 9 pounds of raw fleece to arrive.

Last night I carded a lot of that blackberry dyed fleece and then put it on the blending board with about half of the white (which was the previous distaff dressing) as a little stripe to one side. Idk, just curious how it'll turn out and seemed more interesting to spin that way. Carding first definitely helps with consistency--both colors were willowed first and put on the blending board, but only the brown was carded as well, and it is much easier to keep smooth and least kind of even.

The one improvement of this phone camera over my old one is that it has a timer setting, so I can actually show where my hands normally are (sometimes anyway). Fairly comfortable although my distaff hand is starting to cramp. Might just be one of those days or might be too heavy for me, but the shape at least is good.

You can probably see that the white is still all over the place, but the brown is pretty even, just with lumps still on occasion. Also, the new height of this spindle means it's perfect for lap spinning rather than impossible to lap spin with, so I'm very happy about that.

[izzy-b-hands]

I really wish blocking someone meant their stuff wouldn’t wind up on your dash at all. Like I understand why it doesn’t, but. still.

Actually, I just need to get better abt checking source urls before I reblog. I try to be mindful, but now and again I Forget and have only myself to blame lmao

[evildilf2]

Hey guys, my friend Ayiko recently got diagnosed with colon cancer and needs help paying for his cancer treatments.

“*grey freeze frame* i’m sure you’re wondering how i got here—and for those of you who don’t know, i’m Ayiko, a 22 year old queer artist and musician. I’ve always been a creative, from theatre to a film major. My dream is to keep creating, to keep telling stories, to keep sharing my art with the world and with your help i’ll be able to continue with what i love, with my passions. On the night of February the 6th, what was thought to be a routine doctor visit for severe stomach pain turned into an in-patient hospital stay. A CT-Scan revealed the source of the pain was from a rare telescoping and entanglement of the intestines, known as Intussusception. After a successful colonoscopy relieved the pain, it also revealed a lump that was removed during the procedure. Further testing by the pathology department discovered that not only was the lump cancerous but there were additional tumors that were inaccessible without open surgery. The cancer had grown into 5cm tumors and had spread to some lymph nodes. On February the 17th i went under the knife(or in this case a laser) for a robotic colectomy to remove the remaining cancer. There was very little risk in it spreading and it was one of the least aggressive cancer of its type(Neuroendocrine Tumor of the Gastrointestinal Tract). After the surgery, i will be unable to lift more than 10 lbs or walk for long periods of time, which has left me unemployed. Now in post-recovery, i gently ask the community to rally behind my family and i as we face the financial burdens of hospital bills. As a first generation immigrant i am also aware of the family back home that my parents have to look after too(in fact my father is going to visit Uganda in less than a week). That’s why we would greatly appreciate donations of any amount, as i continue my recovery and face the possibility of chemotherapy. Just sharing the link can go a long way. Thanks for reading!” -Ayiko @pretty-roach

Currently donations are at 1.2k out of a 20k goal- any & all help is appreciated, please reblog to circulate.

[canonkiller]

Hi, I'm Canon. I'm a disabled artist with some kind of gender and homosexual tendencies. You might have seen my usernames around in posts about loving OCs, or complaining about video game inaccessibility, or attached to one of the worm-centric comics I made, like these ones:

I hate having to ask for help when there's already so much going on, but I am also At My Limit.

To make a long story short, I am very disabled in multiple ways and I am living in a very inaccessible (and often directly disability-hostile) home. While I live with family, they do not provide assistance (financial or otherwise) and our rural location and the glacial pace of Canada's social services have left me A Bit Fucked. (Whatever you think Canada's health care provides, either it doesn't, or it takes half a year to even book an appointment.)

I've asked for help in the past with smaller goals, but costs continue to add up - and this time, finally, I may be able to actually make permanent accessibility changes to the household... if I can fund it myself. On the amount I get from the disability support program in my province, I can't do that; I would have to stop eating for months to afford even one of the major renovations in that time, and, obviously, I can't do that.

What kind of accessibility updates would this be going towards?:

A wheelchair ramp at at least one exit of the house; there are four potential exits, and all of them are currently multiple sets of stairs without railings.

A stair lift (for upstairs access) or a walk in tub (for downstairs access), depending on what my family will agree to

Dressers / storage that I am physically capable of opening

HRT (guess what isn't covered by Canada's health care, apparently!)

A whole mess of medical appointments (vision, prescriptions, dental, infinite various symptom testings) and transportation to and from those appointments (guess what else isn't covered!!)

A functional freezer

Physiotherapy 👍

Food 👍👍👍

And how can you donate?:

Donate directly to my Ko-fi page

Pledge monthly to my Ko-fi membership tiers

Order a commission from me (you'll be added to a queue; I can't provide completion time estimates right now)

Buy my premade digital goods (TTRPG resources, bases, tattoo tickets, etc) through Ko-fi or itch.io

Buy my art on physical goods through Redbubble or INPRNT

Buy designs / adoptables I've made through Toyhouse

Buy things off of my Amazon accessibility wishlist

I'm trying to buy used and second-hand / go through free stuff groups where I can to save costs, so I don't have a fixed goal and genuinely every bit helps. I really want to be able to get back to functioning somewhat normally, and due to Circumstances - as embarrassing as it is - I can't do that on my own, and I can't keep struggling with it the way I have been.

Thank you for your time, and any help you're able to provide. Reblogs are welcome and appreciated.

[tkwrites]

Can I Come See You? - Quinn Hughes x OFC

gif from gabelandeskog

Title: Can I Come See You?

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: After a rough game, Quinn seeks out comfort from Sarah. 

Warnings: some suggestive themes, swearing, other than that, it’s 98% fluff.

Word count: 4,600

Comments: I know I’ve been teasing the family reunion snapshot for a while now, but with all the heavy emotions September brings, I just haven’t been able to finish it. When this ask came in, I started writing right away, wanting some comfort myself. I’ve loved revisiting the beginning of Quinn & Sarah’s relationship while writing this Snapshot. 

Thank you, thank you, and thank you gain for your support and love! I have found such a lovely community here, and I’m so thankful. Even in this radio silence while I’ve been slogging through my grief, everyone has been so kind and supportive.  

If you enjoyed this Snapshot, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask about it. I love seeing what you think of Quinn & Sarah’s latest adventures.

Anonymous asked: Quinn gives cuddler energy 1000000% After a game, especially when they played bad and lost/gave up a lead. Immediately wanting Sarah cuddles to make him feel better. Do you think he ever went to hers after a game, giving Eunice a heart attack in the early days. Or did they mostly hang at his?

Can I come see you? 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

If it wasn’t a Friday night, he wouldn’t have even asked. But it was, and he knew Sarah didn’t have to be up early the next day. And they’d lost. Epically. 

Midway through the third, they’d given up a three goal lead. On a power play no less. He’d, thankfully, only been on the ice for one. He didn’t know what he’d do if he’d given up more than one short handed goal in a two-minute span.

There was another game the next day, the third in four days, and he knew he really should go home and go to sleep. But Toch had canceled practice the next morning, and he was upset and feeling restless and just wanted to see her. 

It had been a long time since he’d felt this longing to be with someone and actually had someone he could go to. He called his parents, but there was still a gap there, telling him something was still missing. He wanted a more physical kind of comfort.

It was a miserable night, and Quinn thought seeing Sarah might make him feel a little better. He’d never asked her something like this. Hoping she wouldn’t mind, he fired off a text.

Sarah was in her room after the game – after an awful game – when Quinn texted. 

Can I come see you? 

Her heart leapt into her throat.

Quinn had never sent a text like this before, and she wasn't totally sure what it meant.  

He wouldn't come here to initiate comfort sex, right? That would be crazy. Her roommates were home. 

Maybe he just wanted…she had no idea what he wanted, but he'd respected every boundary she'd thrown at him so far, so she responded. Sure. Let me know when you’re here, and I’ll come let you in. 

Though they hadn’t slept together yet, she was thinking about it a lot, and they'd made out. She'd even let him take off her bra a few days before. Just thinking about that night — the reverent way he'd touched her, like she was a priceless piece of art, and the croaked, pleasured noise he’d groaned into her neck when their dry humping culminated in him coming in his pants — still made her thoughts buzz.

He asked for her address. 

She’d forgotten he’d never been to her apartment before. Not inside, at least. He’d dropped her off several times, but it was always at the end of a date, and at least one of her roommates was usually home, so it’s not like she would invite him up. Also, it seemed silly to go from his lovely penthouse to inviting him up to her little apartment. If they were going to do anything, it wouldn’t be here. 

My roommates are home, just so you know, she sent, not wanting to set unrealistic expectations. 

He reacted with a thumbs up. 

Normally, she would warn them she was having someone over, but telling Eunice Quinn was coming over would only give her more time to wind herself up. So Sarah stayed in her room until he texted that he was downstairs and slipped by her roommates without giving an explanation. 

When she opened the large glass door to her building, he was standing off to the side, hands shoved in his pockets and his head hanging forward, as if it were just a little too heavy to hold up. 

“Hey,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

He still jumped a little, but when he met her eyes, he smiled — genuinely — as if he was just glad to see her. 

Her heart fluttered.

“Come on in.” Taking his hand, she pulled him into the elevator, which was, thankfully, still on the ground floor. They only went up five levels before she got off and led him down the hall, and scanned through door 538. 

Her roommates were on the couch watching an episode of Friends. 

They looked over, and one of them yelped before slapping her hand over her mouth. She continued to make muffled noise, her wide eyes darting between Quinn and Sarah. 

“This is Quinn,” Sarah introduced, though it felt perfunctory. They both knew who he was. “And this is Eunice,” she said, gesturing to her, “she’s a big fan and a little bit excitable.” 

Quinn recognized her. She was the one who screamed when he’d knocked on the glass at Sarah’s first game. Her brown hair, which was more frizz than curl, was pushed back with a headband. She was still wearing a jersey – Petey’s, thankfully – from watching the game. 

“And this is Jane.” 

She was tall and willowy, with pale eyes and a thick, dark blonde braid. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jane said, standing up and offering her hand to shake.

Quinn grasped it, managing to pull a smile onto one half of his mouth. 

Eunice stood and followed suit, though he got the distinct impression that were they anywhere else with anyone else, she would be asking for a hug. “I can’t believe you’re in our house right now.” Her voice actually squeaked when she said it. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, not quite managing to pull full sincerity into his voice. Though he did feel it, he was too tired and too miserable to mask the disappointment. 

Eunice finally seemed to get over the shock of Quinn Hughes being in her living room. “Tough break tonight,” she said, leaning her butt on the armrest of the couch.

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

“Here, we can go in my room.” 

When Sarah’s hand slipped into his, his heart did an embarrassing little flutter. Hoping it didn’t show on his face, he followed her down the hall. 

He'd forgotten what it was like to move into a blank slate of an apartment. All the places he'd rented since moving to Vancouver were furnished, including curated, so-neutral-it-wasn’t-interesting artwork. Sarah’s apartment looked like a home - framed photos and unique paintings on the walls. 

Her room was simple. There was a full bed tucked under the window that overlooked the street and a desk. There wasn’t room for much else. A quark board above her desk was filled with photos of who he assumed was her family. Half a dozen babies with her same bright blue eyes or chocolate colored hair. He noticed the warm up puck he'd given her sitting on her desk, bracing the pages of a textbook open to an anatomical drawing of a seahorse. 

She sat on the bed. It was either the bed or her office chair, and they couldn't both fit on the chair.  

“What's up?” she asked after a minute or so of him looking around her room, his hands in his pockets. He was in his suit, a rain jacket over it against the wet, misty night, and had a knit hat pulled over his hair.

His eyes snapped to her. Something about seeing her in leggings and a loose t shirt, sitting on her blue and green patchwork quilt, made him ache. Longing bloomed in him to see her this comfortable somewhere where they could be together. Not together like this; together permanently. The thought stuck in his mind. Had he ever felt that way about someone before?

“I just wanted to see you,” he admitted, shoulders dropping.

“Oh.” The sincerity in his voice took her by surprise. The fact that he wanted to see her on a hard night sent a giddy, effervescent shiver through her. 

She patted the mattress, and relieved, he sunk down next to her. 

Sarah pulled his rain jacket off, throwing it over her office chair before asking, “this too?” as her fingers tucked under the collar of his suit coat. 

Usually, he would have shrugged it off as soon as he'd pulled away from the arena, but he'd been driving in the general direction of Yaletown, breathlessly waiting for Sarah’s reply.  

Nodding, he pushed his shoulders back so she could pull it off. 

She folded it much more deliberately than he usually did, matching the shoulders and making sure the arms were flat before draping it over his jacket. 

“You okay?” she asked, her hand traveling up and down his back. 

Her gentle touch and the sound of her voice sent a pang of relief through him. 

Experiencing Sarah sharing her emotions with him so openly somehow made it easier to reciprocate and trust she wasn't going to dismiss his or throw them back in his face later. 

He shook his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't even want to think about it,” he said, leaning forward and raking his fingers into his hair.

Not quite sure what he meant, her hand paused on it’s journey smoothing over the soft material of his dress shirt. 

“Can we…” he glanced over at her. In the light from her desk lamp, his eyes were the color of cognac. “Can we lay down?”

Her lips pursed. It wasn’t that they hadn’t cuddled before. They had, but she still wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he wanted. 

“I just want to hold you,” he finally admitted. The vulnerability of saying it out loud knotted his stomach.

Her heart did a giddy little dance in her chest, and she barely held herself back from asking, really?  

“Sure,” she said instead, although it still came out a little breathy. “You've gotta take off your shoes, though.” 

As he toed off the sneakers, she scooted back, so she was laying nearest the window. 

He lay next to her. They stayed that way, side by side for a minute before Sarah asked, “how do you...?”

Extending his arm, he patted his side, inviting her to snuggle into him. She accepted readily, pressing her body to his. Really, he wanted her to hold him, but he felt a little too vulnerable to ask for that. 

A deep sigh let go as her hand rested on his chest. It had taken more than six months for him to feel this comfortable with June, for him to even think about asking her for comfort.  It was amazing to him that things with Sarah were so much easier. 

“What do you need?” she asked, tracing one of his buttons. 

Emotion threatened to choke his reply. Taking a moment to swallow it down, he tried to remember the last time someone had asked him that not related to improving his on-ice performance. Nothing immediately came to mind.

“Can you just talk?”

“About what?”

“Anything. Tell me about your roommates.”

“Well, Jane is a pediatric nurse. She works in the BC Children’s ER.” 

He let out a low whistle. 

“Yeah. It’s a rough gig sometimes, but she really loves it. She's actually headed to work in a few hours.”

He glanced at his watch, “at midnight?” 

“She works a lot of graveyards. 3 to 3 or midnight to noon. She coaches a youth lacrosse league on the weekends.”

“Really?” He felt Sarah nod. “My mom played lacrosse. She put all of us in it, too.” 

“Did you like it?” 

He shrugged, “I like hockey better.”

“Good thing you stuck with it, then.”

A breath of a laugh escaped through his nose.

“And Eunice is studying biomedical engineering. She’s on track to get her PhD.”

“Really?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “She just seems so…I mean, excitable like you said.”

“Oh, she's just dedicated to everything she does. She has a 4.0. I think it'd actually be higher if the scale didn't stop there. She does everything like that, you know? Doesn’t matter if it’s school or being a fan. She’s always 110% in. I don’t think she knows how to do anything halfway.” 

He hmm’d.

Falling into a companionable silence, Quinn sighed. He’d been looking for this his kind of comfort with another person his entire life. The first time he’d really felt it was on their first date, and it was a revelation. Each time it happened since then, it became a little less awkward. They might well be on their way to sharing the kind of quiet moments he used to see his parents have. Sitting together on the couch reading, or folding laundry together, or watching TV, just happy to be with each other. The idea of it made his chest feel buoyant enough to float away.

“How did you meet them?” 

“Eunice was advertising for someone new to move in on the school housing board. Their old roommate, Jenny, was getting married. So, I met them and saw the place, and it just worked out.” 

“Just like that?” 

“I guess?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“What?” 

“Interviewed to be a roommate. I’ve always lived with teammates.”

“Not all of us have a built-in best friend squad.”

He snorted, and Sarah smiled. 

They eased into another quiet moment, and Quinn felt his eyelids grow heavy.

“Do you need anything?” she asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“Like, do you need anything to eat?” 

“I ate at the arena,” he said, “but I wouldn't mind something to drink.” 

As she pushed herself up and he resisted the urge to pull her back down. “What do you want? I have water, cranberry juice, or Ginger ale.” When he didn't respond, she continued, “I have some rum if you need something stronger, or I could make you some tea.” 

“I can't have caffeine this late. It’ll fuck up my sleep schedule.” Truth be told, it was probably already fucked just by him being here, but he didn’t want to inflict any more damage. 

She smiled, “I have peppermint, or a caffeine free maple that's really tasty as a latte.” 

“That sounds nice.”

“Okay. Do you want milk or almond milk?” 

“Almond, please.” 

“You got it.” As she crawled over him to get to the edge of the bed, she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

His mouth was still buzzing when she left the room. 

Eunice came into the kitchen as Sarah was filling the kettle. “What are you doing?” she whispered as if Quinn might hear them from down the hall. 

“Making tea,” Sarah said in her normal tone. 

She could tell Eunice wanted to start interrogating her and pointedly looked the other way. She’d be happy to talk, but not while he was still here. Getting Eunice started on a conversation like that required a certain amount of commitment, and Sarah wasn’t willing to rehash the night until it was over.

She stayed in the kitchen, watching Sarah start the kettle on the stove and pour milk into the frother. 

“I can bring this to you when it’s done.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yeah. Go be with Quinn. He looked like he needed some time with you. I’ll be in in a few.” 

“Okay.” 

As she walked back down the hall, she heard Eunice mutter something about getting Quinn to play better tomorrow.

Sarah winced, wondering if he was ever allowed to be human before being an athlete. 

Quinn looked up from his phone when Sarah came back in the room empty-handed. “No tea?” he asked, hoping his tone came off teasing. It was surprising to him she could start something and not finish it. 

Leaving the door cracked open, she got back on the bed and crawled over him, “Eunice offered to bring it in. It takes our stove ages to boil water.” 

He pulled her into him as soon as she got to his other side. As she bounced against him, she giggled, and it dissipated some of the angsty weight he’d been carrying around since the game ended. 

She snuggled up to him again, working her left arm under his back. He arched until her hand brushed his ribs.

“That’s okay?” he asked, settling back down. 

“Yeah.”

Though half of it was tied up, he threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, then ran them through the soft strands. She made a contented little noise, so he did it again, just glad to be touching her. 

“Thank you for this,” he said, voice quiet. 

“For what?” 

“For letting me come over. For,” he moved so he could wrap his arm around her, squeezing her a little bit closer. 

“Hey, if cuddling makes you feel better, I’m always down,” she said, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. This kind of casual affection was what she missed most every time she broke up with all of her exes. Not to mention, she got so little physical touch being away from her family.

He chuckled, and it ended in a sigh. 

His free hand found hers, and he slotted their fingers together. 

“I really like you, Sarah.” 

“I really like you, too, Quinn,” she said, tipping her head back so she could see his face. From this angle, his nose was more pronounced. She had to resist the urge to pull her hand from his so she could run her finger down the ridge of it to feel the prominent bump. 

Sensing her stare, he turned his head, bringing their lips dangerously close. It only took a bit of stretching on Sarah’s part to bring them together. 

When he felt Sarah strain toward him again, he rolled onto his side to shorten the distance between them. Her hand stayed on his chest, and their kisses remained sweet, though the adjusted position allowed for a little more tongue, which he wasn’t mad about.

This was much softer than anything they'd done so far. It was nice to know they could just be here: not rushing to get undressed or into something more intense and physical. 

She loved this kind of lazy, slow kissing, but found it didn’t usually come until much later in a relationship, after all the first physical stuff was out of the way. To be kissing - making out without really making out - like this before they’d even had sex felt like a gift. Feeling his fingers run into her hair, bringing her face just that little bit closer to his Sarah sighed.

The way her chin moved in and out as they kissed, matching the rhythm of her tongue brushing his, lulled his body into a state of deeper relaxation than he’d felt all evening.

Pulling away just enough, she whispered, “you’re a really good kisser.” 

A zing of pleasure shivered through his brain and all the way down Quinn's spine.

 “Thanks,” he breathed, easing back to see her face. 

He gazed into her eyes for a few moments longer, trying to calm his thoughts. Once he was over the initial daze her compliment brought on, he realized he should probably say something else. Instead of blurting out the, I like being good for you, that popped into his mind, he said, “you make it easy to be.”

When she shyly thanked him as her cheeks pinked, he felt like he'd swallowed the sun. 

Unable to resist anymore, Sarah reached up to trace her finger down the bridge of his nose. “How did you break it?” 

“The first time, Jack punched me in the face in an intense game of mini sticks.”

“Mini sticks?”

“It’s like…” How did he explain this to someone who’d never played? “It’s like indoor, carpet hockey. You use these little plastic sticks and a ball, usually. We used to play in the basement. My mom talks about how we played so hard, we would shake the whole house.”

“That’s some serious competition if you’re getting your nose broken.” 

A breath of a laugh huffed out of him. “I deserved it. I was goading him on pretty bad, and he didn’t really know his own strength. I can still see the horror on his face when the blood started pouring.” 

She resumed stroking, her touch feather light and gentle, “how many times have you broken it?” 

“Three.” Quinn never thought he’d like someone touching him like this, but with Sarah, he found it comforting instead of irritating. It was like she just wanted to know every part of him. “The other two were pucks to the face.”

She winced. “That sounds painful. Those pucks are way heavier than I thought.” 

“It’s not fun,” he said. “Thankfully, the adrenaline is still pumping, so it doesn’t really hurt until after the game is over.” 

“You kept playing with a broken nose?” 

Nodding, he laughed, “they strap on a full face shield, and send you back out there.” 

An incredulous, protective look took over her face that Quinn instantly loved. 

“Don’t worry. They do concussion testing and reset it if it needs it before.” 

“That’s just…really?” 

He nodded.

“I keep seeing all these memes about how tough hockey players are, and I always thought they were kind of exaggerated.” 

“It’s a tough sport,” he said. “My goal is always to be swift enough on my feet to not get involved with the harsh stuff, but sometimes a puck just redirects, and bam, your nose is broken again.” 

The kettle whistled. 

As if by an unspoken rule, they pulled back from each other. Sarah’s hand dropped back to his chest. 

A minute later, Eunice gently hipped open Sarah's door, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and the whole milk frothing machine. “I figured it would be easier for you to froth in here,” she said, setting the tray down on Sarah's desk. 

As she backed out of the room, she widened her eyes and quirked her brows a few times, giving Sarah a look that plainly said, you have a cute, famous boy in your bed, and we're going to discuss everything as soon as he’s gone. 

“Thanks, Eunice,” Sarah said through a tight smile, hoping Quinn hadn’t seen. 

“Sure thing,” she said before softly clicking the door shut.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a tea latte,” Quinn said as he rolled onto his back so Sarah could crawl over him again. The urge to pull her on top of him by her hips was so strong that he had to curl his fingers into the quilt. 

“Really?” she asked, plugging the frother into the outlet by her nightstand. 

He shrugged. 

The machine whirred to life.

“It’s good. I like it at night. The warm milk kind of puts me to sleep.” 

When it was done, she divided the creamy concoction into the two mugs and brought one to Quinn. 

“This is okay?” he asked, gesturing to the bed. 

“Yeah.” There wasn’t anywhere else they could go. If he spilled tea on her sheets, she’d just have him help her change them. 

Sarah sat opposite him, knees bent, her bare feet between his socked ones. 

Their eyes met over their mugs, and Quinn smiled. “This is really good, thank you,” he said, gently tapping her leg with his toe. 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you came over.” 

“Are you still up for the game tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m planning on it.”

“And you’ll stay so I can take you home?”

She nodded. “Are you flying out again after that?”

He sighed, “yeah. On Sunday. We fly out to Dallas, play them on Monday, and then go to Colorado to play on Wednesday, and then I’ll be home for a week on Thursday afternoon.”

“I’m glad it’s not too long this time.”

“Me too.” A yawn split his face. He apologized, holding a fist over his mouth.

Shaking her head, Sarah said, “you’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, downing the rest of the tea. “I should probably get home and get to sleep.”

While he pulled on his sneakers, Sarah set her latte aside and slipped on some sandals. 

Rain was pounding against the glass fronted lobby when they got downstairs. Looking down at herself, Sarah said, “I’d walk you to your car, but I’m not really dressed for it.”

Half of his mouth lifted in an indulgent smile, “that’s okay.” Gathering her against him, he breathed in the smokey smell of her perfume to fortify himself for the dash into the rain and the drive home. “Thank you again.”

Her hands slid under his suit coat, pulling him more tightly against her, “you’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, pulling back to look into his face. 

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss her. They were in public, so he knew he shouldn’t linger, but he did anyway, savoring her mouth as the last thing he’d taste that night. 

“Let me know when you get home, yeah?” she asked when they parted. 

He nodded, and she watched him jog away before heading back upstairs. 

Eunice was waiting in the entryway for her and immediately grabbed her hand. “Tell us everything,” she said, excitedly pulling Sarah down the hall to the bathroom where Jane was re-braiding her hair for work. 

Before she sat in the hallway outside the bathroom, Sarah got her unfinished tea. As she sipped, she explained how he ended up there. 

Both women awed when she recounted Quinn telling her he just wanted to hold her. Eunice broke in when Sarah got to the part about making tea.

“Jane, it was so cute. I walked by, and they’re cuddling. Then, when I came back, they were kissing. Like that soft movie kind of kissing - it looked so dreamy. Then when I walked by again –” 

“Why were you walking by so much?” Sarah demanded. 

Eunice didn't even blush, “I had to get my blanket.”

“And it took you two trips to do it?” 

“I forgot what I was getting the first time and had to come back to the living room to remember.” 

“Right,” Sarah deadpanned. 

“Anyway,” she said in an over-exaggerated tone, “when I walked by again, she was petting his nose.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah exclaimed, “I am never bringing him over here again. He’s going to think you’re some kind of psychopathic stocker for walking by all the time.”

“Oh, he had no idea I was even there,” Eunice said. “He was way too busy longingly gazing at you, Ms. Roberts. I don’t think he would have even noticed me if I was stomping down the hall like a t-rex.”

“He was pretty enraptured,” Jane said. 

“You too?” 

“I had to go to the bathroom. Mine was legitimate.”

“Oh my fucking hell,” Sarah moaned. 

“Why were you touching his nose?” 

“I asked him how he broke it.” Sarah smiled at the floor. “And I like his nose.”

Eunice snorted, “of course you do.” 

Cutting off Sarah’s incredulous look, Jane asked, “what was the best part?”

All of it, she wanted to say. The fact that he came over at all. That he just wanted to cuddle, the kissing… 

“He was really sweet. I told him he was a good kisser and he just looked into my eyes for a while before he goes, ‘you make it easy to be.’” 

“Oh my gosh,” Jane gushed, “really? That is such a good answer.”

“Will you just fuck him already?” 

Sarah let out a surprised cough, and Eunice continued, “I think he’s proven he’s not just in it for the sex.”

“I think I knew that from the start.”

“So why are you waiting so long to jump him?” 

“Eunice,” Jane admonished, “Sarah can take however long she likes to take that step.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eunice said dismissively, flapping her hands, “I just want to know what he’s like in bed.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah said, dropping her head into her hands. “I am never discussing my sex life with you.”

“Yes you will.” 

“No. I won't.” 

“You will,” Eunice said with a quirk of her brows. “You've told us everything else so far. I don't think you'll be able to resist.”

“You’re unhinged, you know that?” 

“That’s why you love me.”

Laughing, Sarah had to admit she was right.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[onlyswan]

summary: in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear.

> est. relationship, fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: mention of h!ckeys and or/l s/x (f. receiving), allusion to c*ckwarming and s/x

> in which masterlist!

note: who else will drunkenly research about men’s underwear and scroll through calvin klein’s website at 2am to write this for shit and giggles and self-indulgence if not art <3 as always i love hearing your thoughts thru reblogs/comments/asks !! 🥺

—

“pssst.”

“oh shit-”

jungkook looks up to find you standing by the doorframe of the walk-in closet, and the view instantly weaves a stupidly whipped grin on his handsome face. your hair is messy from sleep; your eyes are still half-lidded; and your lips are wrapped around the straw of the red water tumbler you’re clutching in your hands.

“baby! you scared me! what are you doing out of bed?”

“my bed escaped from me.” you mumble, padding across the wooden floor until you reach him. he watches in bewilderment as you fall to your knees and pull his arms out of your way. muscular body pliant underneath your dainty touches, he allows you to move him as you like.

“ahhh-” he produces a noise of enlightenment as you find a comfortable position between his legs, lying down across his lap. he’s forced to support the weight of your torso with his arm beneath your upper back, hand curled around your shoulder. “am i the bed?”

“mhmm, boo! i caught you. you’re stuck with me forever.” you go limp in his arms and dramatically press the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress, which elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend.

he bends down to pepper kisses along your jaw and exposed neck, plush lips brushing against the traces of love bites that blossomed on your skin this afternoon, courtesy of his friskiness. having always been extra sensitive there, the ticklish sensation makes you squirm. “that’s exactly what i signed up for.”

“oh?” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. “sure. let’s see if you can still say the same thing… three months from now.”

your fingers comb through his silky locks, taking a fistful and lightly yanking to pull him off you.

“as you were.”

a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when you change positions carelessly. in the end, you settle with straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, where you nuzzle your face and almost purr like a kitten due to the warmth that you’ve missed in his absence.

the process of transforming an apartment to a home together has been… exhausting, to say the least. you’ve had most of the furniture installed before you started bringing in your personal belongings, but how can a space feel so empty and so crowded at the same time? too many boxes, too many bags, too many things left to buy. the line between what’s yours and what’s his is blurring in your eyes, and this is only the beginning.

you thought dealing with jungkook’s self-admitted laziness would frustrate you at some point, well… which it did. however, it turns out that it is precisely what you need in this type of situation. yesterday morning, he successfully seduced you into letting him eat you out on the kitchen island. you reached the height of your pleasure twice in a row, nearly delirious as he was lost in untamed lust and moaned about how you taste, distracting you from planning out what goes in which kitchen cabinet based on dimensions and convenience. last night, he had to drag you back to bed at 5am because you ended up organizing your bookshelf for two hours instead of only getting a refill of water like you claimed.

“what are you even looking for?!” jungkook exclaims with a hand over his naked waist, clad only in his boxers, as he watches you rummage through four boxes in search for something.

“the easel!” you whimper, your calves breaking your fall as you slump back on the floor in despair.

“easel?” he squats down infront of a box beside you, scratching his cheek as his puffy and sleepy eyes scan the other boxes. “i don’t think an easel would’ve fit in here, baby.”

“it’s a mini one. the one i use to display my favorite book.” you pout to point at it standing in the second level of the shelf. he recognizes it as the limited edition book he bought you last year, and the flashbacks of him standing in line for hours to get it signed by the author are inescapable.

if hearing you say that it’s your favorite makes jungkook so ecstatic that he wants to break down into tears, he doesn’t show it. instead, he nonchalantly throws you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bedroom. he yelps when you angrily pound at his back with balled fists.

“ugh, i hate you! put me down!”

he clicks his tongue. “bad!” he lightheartedly chides you, smacking your ass. “i’m cuffing you to myself! do you have any idea what time it is? you have class in three hours!”

“but, babe, i don’t want to attend!” you cry out, slumping as you grudgingly yield. “why do you have to be so strong?! stop lifting weights for fuck’s sake!”

at the time, you meant it when you said that you want to take the moving duties slowly since you have all the time in the world but… you can’t stand the clutter and disorganization for the life of you. at the same time, it pumps your veins with thrill, having an empty space and being responsible to breathe life into it with jungkook. out of all the life-altering decisions you had to make with your still developing brain, this is the biggest gamble yet.

you don’t know if you’re blinded by love, putting your trust in jungkook when he said that he wanted to build a life with you; or if it’s arrogance, having the trust in your ability to stand on your own feet again incase a match is thrown in a puddle of fuel on the floor. the latter is more painful to think about, quite frankly. just because you can, doesn’t mean that you want to. you have to. you have to. with bruised knees from praying for a little more time, you have to. the earth doesn’t stop orbiting the sun when your house burns down.

either way, it’s too late to succumb to your inner monologue. the stuffed toys you own, including ones you’ve dearly loved since childhood, are scattered across the living room. the journal you’ve been sadly neglecting for the past two weeks is just freely lying on your personal study space. you’re here, safe in his arms, and if there’s one thing you’ll always believe in, it’s this. and you intend to make the most out of each day the universe allows you the right to be here.

“you can fall asleep like this? while i keep moving?” he whispers, wide palm soothingly running up and down the expanse of your back.

only if it’s you, you say in the back of your mind. “you can see for yourself.”

“psh. always gotta keep me on my toes, don’t you?” he smooches your cheek, and then once more, lingering and refusing to part away. you feel his lips curling up against your skin.

jungkook reaches for the tumbler you left behind on the floor, capturing the straw between his lips and plentily sipping until he deems his thirst quenched. he sets it aside afterwards, returning his attention to the laundry basket he purposely laid on the floor so he can easily reach inside. he’s been happily working hard on the laundry after you both agreed to wash the clothes you haven’t worn in quite some time to keep your closet clean and fresh.

a little hiccup though.

quickly and unsurprisingly, you ran out of hangers between his long-sleeves and yours alone. therefore, he’s solely focusing on the to-be-folded for tonight, which mostly consists of shorts, casual pants, underwear, and socks.

he inserts his arm in the laundry basket to push out the articles of clothing closer to the edge, grabbing the nearest thing and proceeding to neatly fold it over his outstretched legs. his white sweatpants lands on top of its designated pile, and then the same goes for your tennis skirt, as well as his ripped jeans, and everything else after that.

jungkook being jungkook, singing comes naturally to him after breathing and more than blinking. he hums, chest vibrating against yours as he does so, occasionally singing the lyrics in between because he means them. a tattooed arm protectively wraps around you to keep you glued to his body each time he leans forward. his careful movements, along with his mellifluous voice, fool your senses into believing that you’re being carried out by the ocean waves to the shore of dreamland.

your boyfriend freezes when one of your arm slides down his shoulder, an irrefutable evidence that you’ve fallen asleep again. you finally tired yourself out, he breathes out a sigh of relief. he cups the back of your head as support, eyes shaping into crescent moons as he giggles as quietly as he can after seeing your face.

“so fucking cute.” he muses, rewarding your cheek with another kiss before securely tucking you back into his embrace.

he carries on with his task to allow you to dive further into unconsciousness. he spends the next fifteen minutes folding the boxers that were still stuck inside one of his suitcases, patiently operating with only an arm. his tattooed one is still preoccupied with maintaining a protective embrace around you. shortly after, he decides that it’s time for you to go back to bed.

“there we go.” he says quietly to himself as he succeeds to stand on his feet, carrying you with his hands hooked around your bare thighs. you unconsciously tighten your hold around his neck and release a deep sigh of contentment in your sleep.

he kicks the door open, walking with light, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. he climbs on the bed, knees sinking in the mattress as he gently lays you down. and there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring in his chest as he covers you with the blanket, accompanied by the epiphany that he is doing this at 2am not because time has arrived to daunt him and he needs to leave your bed to go home. not anymore. whatever this is, it feels so fucking good. oh my god, he looks forward to spending the rest of his life feeling you breathe next to him, getting lost in how peaceful you look asleep when he randomly wakes up in the middle of the night.

he tenderly squeezes your arms as he leans down to plant a goodnight kiss on your velvet lips, sweet and loving. slowly, and with the smallest movements possible, he gets out of the bed to return to the closet.

“love, you’re not sleeping yet?” your tiny voice barely reaches his ears but it pinches his heart, even more painfully when he sees that your hand only managed to seize three of his longest fingers to stop him from walking away.

he sits down beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i will in a bit, baby. i only have the rest of my underwear left to put away.”

you blink at him hazily, silent as you digest his words in your clouded mind. “you’re folding them, too?”

“of course.”

and with that confirmation, you eagerly inch closer to him. “teach me.”

“huh?” his forehead creases, eyebrows knitting in a state of confusion.

“teach me.” you repeat yourself, bordering on a whine.

“how to fold my underwear?”

you innocently nod your head as a reply.

“why?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because of your unusual request. but then again, he can’t say he’s much that surprised. it’s such a you thing to do.

“i can’t?” your lips form an adorably small pout, and you sniffle as your eyes water with unshed tears of drowsiness. “but you’re my boyfriend.”

fuck fuck fuck, he curses inside his head. his heart flips and drops to his stomach. holy shit, yes he is. it’s infuriating, how it requires you little to no effort to have him wrapped around your finger. the endearing sight automatically tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to cradle your soft cheeks in between his large palms.

“i’m just curious.” he reassures you with a chuckle, leaning down to press one more sweet kiss to your lips.

“we do chores together…” you trail off, nose scrunching when his brushes yours. you smile sheepishly. you’re relishing in the mere inches between you — how you can see that his pupils are evidently dilated, his brown doe eyes appearing rounder and bigger than they already are. “so i just want to learn how to do it right.”

you swiftly throw aside the blanket enveloping you when he voices out his permission with an “it’s so easy!”, cheerfully jumping off the bed. captivated by your unique charm, jungkook allows himself to be dragged away as a breathing, walking picture of pure adoration.

—

he finds himself sitting on the same spot on the floor, back comfortably resting on the cabinets now that you’re beside him instead of on him. your drooping eyes follow the every movement of his dexterous hands as he folds a calvin klein trunk on his lap, black with a white waistband. wearing an orange beanie of his you found stuck underneath the laundry basket, you obediently bounce your head as he earnestly demonstrates it with instructions.

“so you take this side and fold it over to the middle, and then! you do the same with the other one, so they’re folded equally like this.”

he briefly picks it up to show it to you from rim of the waistband, the two parts stacked and perfectly aligned.

“after that, you take the bottom and roll it over like… halfway? whatever, i just kind of do it by feel- and the final step… so you also fold the waistband here so you can tuck the rolled up part inside. it ends up looking this neat and compact, see?”

your gaze only flickers at the finished product, having seen what it looks like about a thousand times in his backpacks and luggages. “so these are called trunks… and those are called boxers?”

your boyfriend follows the direction your index finger is pointing at, revealing a pile of folded boxers sitting inside of his opened suitcase. he winces with his full set of teeth before he cracks up in laughter, the genuine curiosity you radiate is making his brain overflow with love and happy chemicals.

“right! those are more comfortable and breathable so i wear them at home, while trunks provide more support for when i need it, you know?”

“snug fit or loose fit this, boxers or boxer briefs that. you strip them off all the time to put your dick in me anyway.” you scoff, picking up another calvin klein creation from the laundry basket immediately afterwards.

a string of ditzy giggles slip past your lips. the light blue trunk was standing out among the neutral colors like a firefly in the forest, practically begging to be chosen as your first piece of work.

“i’ll do this one! you wore it yesterday. i love the color.”

his lips part open in surprise at your lewd and unfiltered response, a hand flying to his face to conceal the rosy shade that has begun to tint his flushed honey skin, many earrings collectively swinging and belly aching as he chortles. it’s embarrassing, really, how he still blushes despite having done countless sinful things with you. can you really blame him for being incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s so helplessly and hopelessly attracted to you?

he clears his throat, crossing his legs and moving to his side so he’s facing you. “go on then.”

you flap it against the air to straighten out the fabric, placing it over your thighs and meticulously following your boyfriend’s instructions step-by-step. you’re quiet as you commit yourself to the chore, floating in your little bubble of tranquility and concentration.

and jungkook is intently watching you with as much self-control he can muster. the urge to grab your face and kiss you senselessly is palpable, wrapping itself around his limbs like vines that have a life of their own, desperate to dip into the sun for a taste. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and he can attest to that to a certain degree… but dear god, its lack thereof?

there’s no sensible reason why the both of you should be spending your late nights in your new apartment doing stuff like this when you have an entire 55-inch television set up on the floor because you haven’t found the time and energy to attach it to the bedroom wall yet… and not to mention that jungkook had to write more batteries all types of batteries, tongs, and curtains as CURTAINS!!! in your little notebook of to-buy checklists because somehow, they never crossed either of your minds the last two times you went shopping for your remaining home essentials. his new gaming chair arrived this afternoon and he has zero clue where he will insert assembly time into his busy schedule. one of these days, you’re also bound to discover the plant namjoon left as a gift three days ago. he placed it at the balcony, and it’s only surviving due to the fact that it’s been a relatively rainy month.

although, that’s precisely what makes this moment so priceless and so grounding. you smoothly finish the challenge and sing “ta-da!” with a beam that causes your eyes to twinkle with a tiny sense of achievement despite your apparent exhaustion.

“oh?! looks perfect. good job, baby. goob job.” he praises you with a grin, affectionately stroking your hair. “let’s work together so we can go to sleep.”

his thoughtful words and action make you keen, coaxing the giddiness in you to bubble over. you playfully nudge his side as you haul the laundry basket closer. “i want to play. let’s see who can fold the most in a minute!”

“play?” his shoulders deflate as he sighs, battery running low.

“no?” your lips pucker up in dismay. “too tired, love?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he gives it some consideration. he shrugs. “what’s in it for me?”

oh, damn it.

“the winner also automatically wins the light fixture debate?”

in which you’re referring to your month-long dispute over which color of the cloud light you should purchase for your shared bedroom. he insists on the white cloud that has the white light because it looks like a thundercloud, and on the other hand, you’re fighting for the pink cloud with the yellow light because it looks like the sunrise or the sunset depending on its saturation and brightness.

“alright!” he blurts out, a surge of energy kickstarting his system. he snatches his phone, which he left in one of the empty shelves near him. “baby wants to play a dangerous game, huh? the stakes are incredibly high! too high! are you ready? to lose?”

your mood sours when he begins using his variety show hosting voice, confidence dwindling but determination fueled and burning brighter now that he’s in higher spirits.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, sure. ready to lose the white variation in my cart, bro.”

he smirks mischievously, his childish and devilish laughter echoing in the closet. “we’ll start the timer! in three…! one- go!”

“freeze, you cheater! i wasn’t ready! put that shit down!”

—

note: soooo, are you team oc or team jungkook? i will be keeping score 👩‍💻

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm to be added or removed :D

—

[raguiras]

What's this?! Spade of Storms is canon in the game now?! /j

Finally finished this Spade of Storms WIP from early June 😅 Click for better quality!

Reblogs are very appreciated ~

「 Bonus versions & ship ramble below the cut! 」

♤ More Deuce x Allen: ♤

SHIP INTRO: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4

OTHER ART: 1

Ship blog: @spade-of-storms

♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤

♤ Ship ramble ♤

There are many reasons why Allen and Deuce are perfect for each other (list), but a fair share of said reasons are rooted in or can be traced back to one massive, highly important core point: these two have extremely similar experiences in a reversed order.

Said experiences shaped their personalities, goals, insecurities and "masks" — all of which are highly important factors for Deuce and Allen's relationship development.

So today, I'll be talking about how their backstories influence Allen and Deuce's relationship.

Something I noticed is that if Spade of Storms weren't dating, they'd pretty much end up experiencing at least parts of each other's backstory... and end up in a super miserable state.

Allen is a former honor student who overworked himself to the point of burning out, all because he was a people pleaser and his stellar grades still weren't enough for his teachers who expected nothing but the absolute best from him. Additionally, he had to suppress his true self and interests because he was expected to be a model student in every single way, and anger was something only "bad" kids felt.

Sounds familiar? Deuce is unknowingly on the path to end up in the same situation, except in his case, the fact that he can't seem to achieve better grades no matter what causes him even more distress. If he actually ended up becoming a honor student, Deuce would experience a ton of additional pressure, not to mention that he's already struggling to hide the delinquent tendencies that are a fundamental part of his true personality... Sure, "honor student" sounds like a nice and admirable title to have — but the reality behind it is cruel, and Deuce isn't aware of that yet.

Which is why I gave him Allen.

A large part of Allen's trauma is rooted in his past as a honor student and the crushing expectations people (including himself) threw at him, and he desperately wants Deuce to watch out for himself and approach his goal of becoming a honor student carefully and logically rather than bite off more than he can chew and end up drowning in even more pressure, self-suppression and insecurities. Allen doesn't want Deuce to experience all the negative sides of being a honor student and instead supports the Heartslabyul student's goals by working towards them with a pace appropriate for Deuce, helping him study through actually unique methods specifically tailored for Deuce, and — most importantly — giving Deuce a safe and healthy environment where he can be his 100% authentic self and learn how to properly get his impulsiveness under control at the same time.

And the other way around? How does Deuce's past help Allen?

Deuce quit being a delinquent because it not only disappointed his mom, but also caused him a lot of trouble and massively stained his reputation. While Allen can handle his own delinquent tendencies just fine on the outside, his anger is actually much worse than Deuce's, not to mention that he has incredibly violent fantasies about the people he can't stand...

So far, Allen hasn't done anything bad. But Deuce, despite being a delinquent at heart himself, is able to calmly remind Allen to not do anything he might end up regretting or that might stain his reputation, especially since this is a major fear of Allen's. Deuce's worries and loving way manage to keep Allen in check, no matter how strong the Ramshackle student's hatred for society grows.

♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎♤♠︎

Now, HOW exactly are they able to help each other grow? WHY did they form intimate levels of trust to begin with? And especially, why can Allen actually efficiently help Deuce in the first place when nobody else can?

All will be revealed in the next issue Spade of Storms explanation post >:)

[cats-artbag]

SwapOut/Webcomic/Twitch PSA!

Hi everyone 👋🏻 Zk here >< or Cats, for older followers

So I've been getting back into doing SwapOut again, but I would like to appeal to everyone who reads and loves the comic. Much love to all of you who's still sticking around 🙏🏻💙 But something has also always been bothering me throughout this journey.

As many of us know, we artists do these comics for free (especially fan comics), starting them out of love and taking a LOT of time and energy out of our lives to continue making them.

And it's amazing how many of you come from translations or comic dubs on Youtube, which are also very well-done and take a lot of effort to make, much love to them too. There is a difference, however.

Monetization.

And I'm not asking for pity! I'm appealing for understanding.

Because some comic dubbers on Youtube are able to earn ad revenue from the videos they upload. From the beginning, we artists have given them the permission to dub our works. But we don't receive anything from it, nor do we usually charge them for using our art (against our better judgement).

We let them use our comic pages in their monetized videos for free. And occasionally these videos receive thousands and millions of views, which I imagine gives a decent amount of ad revenue, while the artists themselves don't usually earn anything from their own artwork, nor do we ever want to put it behind a paywall of any kind. (we like reading free comics too so don't worry x|)

... But doing full-colored comic pages for free eventually gets hard to sustain without any income from it, even more so when we need to give our time and energy to other jobs to earn money for a living instead. We legitimately keep going on our comics purely out of love. Truly, we would LOVE to do our own art for a living. There's things like Patreon but it's only feasible if we're also able to produce bonus content or show BTS, and only people willing to spend money for them can help us, and not readers who aren't able to.

And we understand that not everyone can afford to support us monetarily. And that's okay!

But if you love these comics and want to really help us to keep going, there ARE ways you can easily support us for free!

For example, affiliates on Twitch (like myself) are able to earn ad revenue very early on (they must have at least 50 followers, quite a requirement, but still easier to obtain than Youtube's 1000 subscribers).

(my Youtube, btw. not much rn but drop a subscribe?)

But simply put, if the vast majority of readers from the yt numbers visit and stay for ads on the artists' Twitch streams (remember to have adblocker disabled for the site, if any), they'll be making an actual, physical contribution to the artist themselves, at no cost whatsoever. We earn up to 55% from any ads that run on our stream, so the more viewers, the better!

(this is my twitch on average 8 viewers, with a 3 hour stream. again, the more the better!)

(ofc you can also buy subs to watch ad-free and supports me directly, but i'm typing all this to share the free ways people can support their fave creators ✨)

And even if that doesn't work out, I'd be happy enough to see most of you there 🙏🏻💙 I've been treating my streams as work, so I'm striving not to break the streak.

So drop a follow on my Twitch, and catch the streams when you can! They're great if you need company or background noise, and also great for co-working~

Currently streaming WEEKLY, Mondays, Wednesdays (SwapOut) and Saturdays, 10.30AM EST

(art by @cupcakepaints)

>> twitch.tv/zkcats <<

Anyway thanks for listening to my Ted talk, please share this around for others as well >< 🙏🏻 Artists, make this a reblog chain or something! Promo your stuff!

And apologies for the essay, I wasn't expecting to type this much sdghsgh this itself is not an ad for Twitch or whatev, I'm just a little frustrated with needing to juggle all this.

I was also considering hosting SwapOut somewhere that could get ad revenue, but I wasn't sure where until I realized I can probably earn that from my Tapas now (i think?? sdfhgh up to 70% ad revenue there but i haven't seen any yet) So maybe I'll post there a day earlier than here or something? We'll see. Go subscribe there! Check it out! Reread it! Help ME help YOU!

... Much appreciated ><

[captainzigo]

Hi everypony!

My kofi is ko-fi.com/captainzigo if you enjoy my art, consider leaving me a tip! this is otherwise entirely a labor of love so,,,

you can also send a request with your tip! but if you choose to do so, please read the disclaimer later on in this post**

my non-art blog, where i accept asks is @snapewife-divorce-lawyer and my reblog-spam blog is @3amgaypotion also i am on bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/captainzigo.bsky.social

that's a bunch of pictures of my oc(/ponysona) Prickly Pear. she's a cowgirl

Frequent/noteworthy questions below the break

**on donations made to me:

i still dont take commissions currently, but if you send a request with a donation, there's a 99% chance i'll do it. and that remaining 1% i'll probably just ask you for a different request. if you send me a request with a donation you are not sending me a commision. you are making a donation, and i might do you a favor as a result. you do not own the resulting art. and I am under no obligation to complete it or to do it in the way that you like. you do not need to make a donation in order to make a request. i talk more about it here

hello mutuals!

If you are a mutual, DM me for an invite to discord server and subsequently to minecraft server

on sending me asks:

any asks you send me should be like Strongbad emails. one paragraph. no attachments. unless you are sending me refs.

in any interactions, please keep in mind that i am a stranger on the internet and act accordingly.

unless I have explicitly said otherwise, you can safely assume that I do not count you amongst my friends. it is nothing personal, it is in fact the opposite.

why am i like this?

i am autistic. i say this because representation matters, but also because i would like to ask that you please be very frank with me. i don't even really need your patience. just say what you mean and we will get along fine.

can you draw my ocs?

you most certainly can draw any of my ocs. i'd love that acually. tag me

on (re)posting my art:

do not post my art on other platforms. do not repost my art period. I don't really exist on other platforms since i deleted Twitter. So if you see my stuff on other platforms, it's not me. except for my bluesky.

transformative works are obviously allowed, at least here in america where i live. but if you want my blessing, please keep them SFW, and try to keep the spirit of the original artwork

is my blog SFW?

im in my twenties. i keep my blog SFW (as i define it) as a strict rule.

i do not consider the fact that sex exists, that some people enjoy it, or some innuendo to be NSFW. i also do not consider swearing, even as tho a sailor might, to be NSFW.

are NSFW interactions ok?

in short: no. while i have no aversion to to that sort of thing, and often actually enjoy it, i keep this blog SFW. the intention behind my art is to be SFW even when it might be skirting the line. in general, and especially, specifically with mlp, i do not wish to have NSFW interactions on the internet. please respect this boundary.

on shipping:

in my opinion, all romance real or fictional should be between people who are similar in age, doing age appropriate things, not closely related, and all with mutual consent. i am not interested in witnessing or interacting with anything outside of these parameters.

on my blue hair and pronouns:

i am a trans woman. i am also bisexual. i am also poly and demi since im listing things. i am out online becasue i know how important it is to know that you aren't alone.

do i take constructive criticism?

NO 🖕👹🖕 FUCK YOU!!!!!!! GET BLOCKED IDIOT!! unless you are a marginalized person who feels i have unintentionally made you uncomfortable somehow with my art or otherwise. in that case i am sorry and you do me a great favor by calling me out. OTHERWISE FUCK YOU DUMBASS IF YOU DONT LIKE MY ART GO DRAW YOUR OWN 🖕🖕🖕🖕

“i hate bronies”…

i don't necessarily hate you if you self identify with that label. i like to make myself off-putting to keep creeps away. i talk about it more in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/captainzigo/744131513208176640/when-i-say-i-hate-bronies-in-my-header-its

brony?

i don't hold a lot of nostalgia for old brony stuff. infact it's quite the opposite. i was a child when the show came out, and more than that i was a girl. i am not a brony.

do i like g5?

i like all generations of mip including the new stuff. gen 4 is just the one i grew up with

why is my header aurora, bori and alice from the best gift ever?

well that would be because i hate them like a mother hates a child. like the sun hates the moon. like sickly victorian child hates the slightest morsel of bread.

on flurryheart:

i often draw stuff about cozy glow x flurry heart. this is with the understanding that cozy glow spends about a decade turned to stone. nullifying the age gap.

🤓☝️ i think you mean effect, not affect

i am dyslexic. i spell stuff wrong all the time and i type weird. please don't bother correcting me. wooptydoo your brain is wired normally. sending you a medal.

on my username:

i've had the same username since i debuted on the internet. zigo is the name of an oc i made that i dont really talk much about anymore. zigo is a fine enough nickname, and at least one person calls me that irl.

[great-kung-lao]

KazuKaoru: Everlasting - An Essay

(This art belongs to amamaiiya, please go and follow, like, reblog her magnificent works)

What defines a good relationship? What makes fictional couple a good one? Each of these questions can have a different answer depending on the person asked, because it is often that in fiction people prefer something they would never allow themselves in real life. You know how they say, the forbidden fruit is sweet. But personally, I have equal preferences for both. In my honest opinion a good relationship has to be, above everything else, a healthy one and consist of trust, mutual understanding and support, where both partners have things in common, respect one another and don't hold back each other. This is what I saw and liked in a dynamic of Kiryu Kazuma and Sayama Kaoru from Like a Dragon (aka Yakuza) series.

Some might say they had a rough start, with them being on opposite sides of the law in a world where people are labeled and treated with prejudice. But that is the whole theme of their love story throughout Like a Dragon 2. It is a relationship that defies what people assume as normal, where characters are developing to see through the superficial and realize that despite their surface level differences, there is much more in common on a deeper level.

They are both humans, shackled by outside perception of them and because of it they might feel they have to act a certain way instead of being themselves. But being themselves is exactly what they manage to achieve around each other, which is something that even Haruka notices about her Uncle Kaz. Isn't that the best kind of thing that can be in a relationship? To be yourself without hiding it and be loved for it? KazuKaoru is that kind of pairing.

Isn't it ironic that he turned to be that someone? Interesting camera work here is that while he says this, it zooms at him. Not very subtle, but nice foreshadowing nonetheless.

Often I come across an assumption that KazuKaoru is rushed. Not one bit. We are talking about two grown up people with experiences, who know or at least feel what they want from life and their partner. It is hard to determine when exactly Kiryu fell for Kaoru, but Kaoru definitely starting falling for Kiryu at the rooftop scene after date. But that scene leaves us with an impression that her feelings are unrequited. She wants to stay with him to watch the stars, but he politely refuses and asks her to rest. There is a moment of hurt and disappointment.

Potential of denial is followed up by a scene at New Serena. After Kaoru suffered through shocking discovery and family member loss, she is a mess and her actual real self with all that baggage might not be loveable at all. She confessed to Kiryu about her insecurities and the truth ended up more harmful than she was prepared for. She started crying after saying this line:

I always read it as her implying something along the lines "you don't need me anymore". With her heart on disaply she is met with silence. But whoever was responsible for this subplot of Yakuza 2 liked to live in a happy land, so we've got this beautiful response from Kiryu that finally showed his true colors and feelings towards Kaoru:

"I would never think less of you" meaning that he accepts her entirely, with whatever may come her way. He loves Kaoru for the person she is and might be. This is pure, kind and tender form of love that is so easy to enjoy. He makes sure she knows that he doesn't want her away, so he asks her a very important thing to do later:

Yakuza and a police officer. Two people on the opposite sides. But both are warriors for justice, upholding same ideals of helping and protecting those in need. They both have power, but use it for good. This is the kind of common ground that can lead to something special and beautiful if they are ever allowed to reunite in later games.

Thankfully Like a Dragon 8 left us with hope. We have a confirmation that Kiryu Kazuma and Sayama Kaoru still have feelings for each other even after 17 years of being apart. This is why I call this essay as Everlasting. Because this is the kind of love they hold for each other, still waiting for a moment where they can be together again.

There is actually a lot more I would have liked to put into words about them. This is my all time favorite video game couple and maybe even my all time favorite OTP. Both characters are outstanding individually and together they are unstoppable. Ultimate power couple whose love story is there to each us a very important lesson in life that we all can take to heart and follow through with it:

[sambuckylibrary]

SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024

The @sambuckylibrary will be holding a Summer Bingo! The event will start on June 1st and run until August 31st. During that time, we will be reblogging and sharing the work you guys create here on our blog.

You can post fanfiction, art, fic rec lists, comments, moodboards, podfics, edits, etc. It’ll be a low-stakes event. No need to sign up. Just remember to tag @sambuckylibrary in your post for each fill, and we will be tracking #sbsummer2024 for reblogs.

If you are posting on AO3, please add it to the SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024 Collection.

The Bingo Cards are:

There are also badges for each fill. For those badges, as well as the FAQ and rules, check the information under “keep reading”.

FAQ

What is this?

It’s a SamBucky bingo event.

Is there any pressure?

No pressure at all. Fill one prompt. Fill all the prompts on every bingo card. Do however many you please.

Can I fill more than one prompt with one piece of art/one fic?

Yes! You can fill one prompt with one piece of art or fic. You can try to fill all nine prompts on the card at once with one piece of art or fic. If you can fill every single prompt from every single bingo card in one fill, that’d be wild but it’s okay by the rules. You can do any number in between.

Are there any prizes for making anything for this event?

Just the satisfaction that you made something cool.

Is it just SamBucky?

Yes please, just SamBucky. There can be side ships, but the main ship should be SamBucky.

How long will this event run?

It will run from June 1st and run until August 31st.

I heard there are badges I can use for each fill?

There are! Here they are:

1) Vacation Bingo Badges

2) Mission Bingo Badges

3) Loving Bingo Badges

RULES AND GUIDELINES

What are the guidelines for the bingo?

I will be borrowing some of this from the MYSU Valentine’s Day Bingo 2022 Guidelines, since they were fantastic.

For Everyone:

1. Remember to @sambuckylibrary in the post as well as #sbsummer2024.

2. Please also tag the prompt you’re filling (for instance, if the square is “Redwing”, use “#redwing” as one of your tags when posting about it on Tumblr).

3. If you’re uploading to AO3, please:

a ) Say somewhere which prompt you’re filling.

b ) Add it to SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024 (SamBucky_Summer_Bingo_2024).

For Artists:

1. Create at least one piece of new art that can’t have been posted anywhere else before this.

2. All visual art forms are welcome:

a ) Gifsets, at least 3 gifs.

b ) Aesthetic boards or moodboards, at least 4 images each.

c ) Drawing/painting, that is not a sketch.

d) Fan video.

e) Graphics edit.

For Authors:

1. At least 500 words.

2. Posted on Tumblr or AO3.

3. Can be part of a series, but should work as a standalone.

For Podficcers:

1. The podfic should at least be 5 minutes long.

2. It should be posted on either Tumblr or AO3.

3. The podfic can be of a fic made for the event, a fic not made for the event while still adhering to the prompt, or a notfic.

For Fic Rec Lists:

1. You must have at least three fics or podfics on the rec list.

2. Make sure to give brief descriptions of the fics or podfics as well as their rating and wordcount.

For Commenters:

1. Any amount of comment counts, from a heart emoji (“❤️”) to an essay.

2. We would rather this be about what makes you happy and joyful about reading than any scathing critiques.

Things to be mindful of when creating:

For Sam

Avoid framing Sam only as a caretaker or emotional support for Bucky. Be mindful of Sam acting angry or aggressive in an out-of-character way and falling into the angry/sassy Black man trope (check out the MCU source material to help with character traits).

Avoid decentering Sam as a main character and refrain from focusing entirely on Bucky.

In art: avoid whitewashing Sam’s skin and research drawing Black characters.

General disclaimer: Race affects every aspect of his life, including interacting with police/government and the white structures of the world when it comes to performing his duties as Cap and simply being a Black man that lives in the U.S.

For Bucky

Avoid phrasing “flesh/normal/human hand” to refer to the contrast between his prosthetic arm and his right arm. The phrasing is ableist. You can simply refer to his prosthesis when relevant, otherwise use “right/left arm/hand”.

For more information, please check out this document suggested by @ninesdb on how to write Bucky as an amputee. @ninesdb is also open to questions if you have any queries not answered by the google doc.

Specific Tags:

Avoid tags in AO3 like “Sam Wilson is a Gift”, “Sam Wilson is a Saint”, and “Bucky Needs a Hug”.

Have fun and we look forward to your Summer Bingo fics!

- The Mods

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Hi, can I ask for some Sherlock Holmes with a side of spanking and cuddles?

Title: The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him. For @princessphilly, I hope this works!!

Warnings: female!masturbation, spanking, softDom!Sherlock

A/N: I listened to “24 Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1, MS 25: No. 24 in A Minor” while writing this, you do not have to. But it is quite good if you like violin and suspenseful music. Also, Enola correctly guesses that Paganini is Sherlock’s favorite composer in the first Enola Holmes film, so like, research! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

The sounds of violin wafted through 221B Baker Street. You loved to hear Sherlock play most days. But, today was different. This was day three of a Paganini marathon, which could only mean one thing.

He was stumped on a case. 

A case he refused to talk to you about. No, he could only converse with his beloved violin about it. However, that’s not how you see it. No. 

Your perception? He decided to play instead of paying attention to you. Being the brat that you are, you are determined to make him regard your presence.

You don your tightest bodice and skirt, the deep sapphire one that Sherlock purchased for you as a gift when he asked you to move into Baker Street. He specifically had it tailored to your measurements, showing off your ample bosom and child-bearing hips. 

You make your way from your shared bedroom into the drawing room where Sherlock is playing. His violin is tucked between his chin and shoulder. His left hand bows at a speed that makes the messy curls on his head dance along to the music. His right hand holds the violin at the neck so delicately, it’s almost loving.

You step around several stacks of papers, narrowly missing a tower of books. You remind yourself to have that talk again with Sherlock about the difference between organization and chaos. 

You finally make it to the chair next to his music stand, his eyes never leaving the sheet music. You make sure to sit down in a way that makes a squeak that Sherlock has commented on many a time. He’s actually shown you how to sit so that said squeak does not occur. You remarked that he could just get rid of the chair, to which he replied that you can sit elsewhere if you’re going to complain.

No reaction. 

You seethe, watching as he continues with 24 Caprices. You kick over the music stand and the sheets dance gracefully to the floor.

Nothing.

He simply closes his eyes and plays from memory. He plays it perfectly, of course. Paganini is his favorite composer, after all. He would know it forward and backward.

You were growing impatient, running out of options for how to get this man’s attention. Until it hit you. The idea was just ridiculous enough to work. It would be depravity in polite society, sure. But clever enough to get him to at least acknowledge your presence. And that would be enough.

You get up from the chair and make your way over to the chaise lounge. Arranging a few pillows to rest your head upon, you then lie down and pull your skirt up enough to get to your drawers. You pull them down and toss them out of the way, Sherlock being none the wiser as he continues playing.

You let your hand wander down to your folds, already slick with the frustration of being untouched for days. You allow yourself time to tease, playing with your swollen bud before dipping lower to enter a single finger within yourself. A sigh escapes your lips as you explore your inner walls. As another finger joins the first, Sherlock’s name falls from your lips.

Sherlock’s sense of smell is what pulls him out of his hyperfocus. He smells your arousal as he hears his name in the air. In an instant, his fixation becomes all about you.

He places down his violin and bow next to the fallen music stand, not putting it right-side up. Not bothering to be quiet, as your moans now fill the room louder than his playing did, he stalks over to you and clears his throat loudly.

Your hand stills and you open one eye looking up at your husband. The look on his face of disappointment is enough to cause heat to flare behind your cheeks. Then, his face changes to that of…impatience?

“Well? Are you going to finish then? Or must I intervene?” Sherlock’s words have a bite to them, and you can’t say you’re surprised. Well, you are stunned he is offering to help.

At least you were under the impression that he is offering to help. And that is why he is the expert detective and you are...well, not.

Before you can ask for assistance, Sherlock is lifting you off the chaise and throws you over his shoulder. He takes you into the bedroom and set you down on your feet before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He points to you and beckons you with a curved finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. You begin to sit next to him, but he blocks your path.

“I don’t believe bad girls get to sit down next to Sir. Over my knee with yourself, girl. You’re going to practice your counting. And don’t make me repeat myself.” Sherlock’s voice is stern and you involuntarily gulp before settling your middle across his lap.

Sherlock pulls up your skirt so it rests along your back and the cool air of the room produces gooseflesh along your bare bottom and legs. No sooner do you register that feeling does the first blow land. You grunt as Sherlock’s hand grazes the skin of your left cheek.

“One, Sir!” You cry out, surprised at the white-hot heat of the smack.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He raises his hand again. He waits until your ass relaxes and brings down his hand upon your right cheek. This time harder than the first.

“Two, Sir!” You shout, the sting radiating through you.

“Good girl, I think you deserve one more though,” Sherlock informs you and you nod, “Use your words, girl. Do you deserve another?”

“Yes, Sir, I deserve another,” you whimper, clenching your thighs to try and gain some sort of friction.

“I wholeheartedly agree, my dear,” he laughs, punctuating his sentiment with one last swat to your left cheek.

“Three, Sir!” You gasp, clutching onto Sherlock’s pant leg as his hand finds its way between your legs to find you soaked.

“That’s my good girl, look how soaked you are for me. I bet you’re right on the edge. All you need is one…last…push,” Sherlock plunges two fingers into your sodden cunt and expertly finds your inner bundle of nerves. He massages it while praising you for taking your punishment so well. “You’ve been so good for me, my love. You take all the attention you need, girl.”

Before long, you are clenching around Sherlock’s fingers and he is working you through your orgasm with his skilled fingers. You send thanks to the heavens for marrying a man who understands the female anatomy. 

As you come down, Sherlock pulls down your skirt. He pulls a pillow from the bed for you to sit on as he turns you around in his lap. He kisses your forehead and presses your head down to lean on his shoulder, resting his head upon yours. 

“Now, my dear little one. Care to explain what that little show was for?” His voice is calm as his arms wrap around you, holding you flush to him as he rocks a bit back and forth.

“I hate it when you’re stuck on a case, you don’t pay any attention to your wife, my love,” You don’t attempt to hide the sorrow in your voice.

“You’re so right. I’ve neglected my dearest. She even had to turn to her own ministrations in the wake of my absence,” he pulls back and looks down at you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “As frustrating as a case may be, it is no excuse to ignore you. I promise you, my love, it will not happen again. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” you twirl your finger around a curl of his hair and watch it spring back, “I love you.”

“And I love you, dear one. Now, shall we solve this case, Mrs. Holmes?”

“That we shall, Mr. Holmes.”

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also, if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

[monscrow]

intro post, i guess!!!

last updated 15/nov/2024

⚠️flash warning for blinkies at the bottom⚠️

free gaza, free palestine, stop genocide. you don't agree? block me.

i go by both mons and crow.

my pronouns are they/them, he/him and any neos/xenos that you think would fit either comedically or off of vibes.

lvl 16, so, a minor !! beware

aromantic, graysexual, something like that; qprs are sick asf and all hail relationship anarchy.

art sideblog is @monscrowarts

super amazing pretty boyfriend !!!<3 🍎

audhdcd (asd + adhd + ocd 😻😋) and hEDS. i use tonetags, feel free to ask for clarification!!!

bday is oct 7. 🎉🎉🎉

i'm mexican 🇲🇽!! i speak both spanish and english.

timezone is cst/utc-6.

i say slurs i can reclaim (mainly the f and t queer ones) and swear a lot, though if that makes you uncomfortable please either block me or lmk so i can try to tone it down when around you.

i love interacting!! feel free to tag me in stuff, send some asks (be it on anon or not), or message me! moots can ask for my discord even if we've never actually talked before. though i suck at keeping consistent, nothing personal i promise</3 /gen

i tend to spam-reblog so do with that information what you will.

some tags you might see me use here and there:

#mons rambles ← just my thoughts, ideas, opinions, and whatever i feel like throwing into the tumblr void.

#ask a crow / #anon asks ← askbox replies.

#save / #art save / #fav / #hellsite faves ← these are more for myself, but yeah they're pretty self-descriptive. just in case you get curious or anything.

#🍎 ← beloved.

hyperfixations/interests/things i'm passionate about !!! i guess, kinda

→ mcr (+ most of the members' solo projects)

→ killjoys (california + national anthem, but mainly calif and fanon)

→ demolition lovers lore (i have literally written like at least three different essays about it for school help me i'm so serious)

→ emo/alt/diy culture

→ will wood

→ bandom in general

→ graphic design, arts and crafts, illustration (that's right y'all graphic design IS my passion 😔)

→ fnaf

→ cosplay/costume-making

→ d&d

→ crows (no way, crow, really???)

→ australian shepherds

→ the umbrella academy (s4 isn't canon in my heart + currently reading the comics !!! )

→ gravity falls

→ neurodivergencies/psychology/disabilities (this one's pretty meta ngl)

→ lgbtqia+ identities (emphasis on the aroace-spec ones + relationship anarchy)

→ politics/activism

→ linguistics + conlangs

→ fantasy in general (high fantasy, magic, vampires, tieflings, you name it)

→ boardgames

→ the count of monte cristo (2024) (also i just bought the book so i'll be reading that too !!)

→ parkour civilization

→ uhhhh there's more but i don't remember rn, i'll keep adding as i see fit (probably... maybe..... perhaps....... quizás........ puede ser..........)

dni

trump supporters, terfs, transphobes, anti lgbtqia+/queerphobics, exclusionists, ableists, racists, prolifers/antichoicers, proshippers/anti-antis, irl gore, pro-israel/zionists, pro-ai generated "content", pro-nft, non-critical media consumers, classists, ed blogs, sh blogs.

also, i'm aware that dnis tend to not be effective and i probably will still get shitty ppl in my inbox so i can and will block. though i'm p chill as long as you're chill. this blog is run by a very neurodivergent, mentally ill, mexican, transmasc, aroace faggot, and any kind of bigoted hatred will not be tolerated.

blinkies made with blinkies cafe !!!

pssst btw, before you go, if you read my intro post i'd heavily encourage you to like it, so i can know!!! :] (/nf though!)

[sevilai]

Help a Friend Escape a Horrible Home

Hey there! I'm here to make a post on behalf of my good friend @mike-dragon!

A lot of you know I've talked about this and reblogged his posts many times. I have been trying to help Mike find a way to move away from his terribly abusive mother for about a year now to little avail. He has been unsuccessful in finding work and streaming is currently his only income. His posts seem to die as soon as they gain traction and to be frank, though we've had a few other kind donors, a grand majority of his goal has come from me alone doing what little I can to help.

Currently his goal is to have enough to find a place to rent and buy necessities as he continues to search for work. Getting away from his mother would be an ENOURMOUS boon to his mental health. If nothing else it could allow him just the time to recover some mental health away from an awful environment. Right now we've raised about $315/$2100 USD

I wish I had something more to offer in exchange for your help. I really do. I'm genuinely too burnt out to offer art to donors at this time, but at least I can help champion his cause. If you don't have the means to donate then please just spread this post. I know there's so many people asking for help for so many dire reasons, but Mike deserves help, too.

His P*ypal: mdcommissions@hotmail.com

His Ko-Fi account linked below:

[sentientfunfetti]

dollhouse wally/reader headcanons !

(dollhouse wally is made by @/itskorrychang on twitter + instagram. i’m unsure if they have a tumblr. go support them!)

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

CW// YANDERE/POSSESSIVE THEMES !!!

-

-

-

i’m pretty sure this is canon but when i first saw it i had to expand on it more. he would call you things like: pretty thing, beautiful/beauty, gorgeous. nice words like that. he wouldn’t use ‘vulgar’ words like ‘hot or sexy’ to describe you. too unimaginative.

loves the feeling of your skin on his. you’re so warm and soft against him and he loves it. doesn’t even mind if you have body hair, even if that would be a bit weird to other people. it just adds onto you and he would find it immature if someone else complained. touch starved as well. being alone for so long does that to people. he just loves physical contact with you in general.

would definitely do things the old fashioned way. he would mail you a love letter and hope you get it with baited breath. if you say yes then expect him to stumble over his words all while trying to keep his composure. if you ask him who delivered it to your mail box, he would say eddie.

he would brag to barnaby about you. since he believes that the dolls hes made of his dear neighbors are real and listening he would sit barnaby down while you’re away and brag to him about you. sometimes barnaby responds. maybe one day he’d allow you and him to meet?

definitely possessive. doesn’t like to see his pretty thing wander far from him. even of he has to keep you in the dollhouse himself, he’ll do it if he needs to. he’d hate to see you get hurt, and the world is harsh and cruel out there. it would be best for you to stay with him…completely…forever. where you’re safe.

sometimes spends moments of you two spending time together just…staring at you. he loves the way you look. your hair, your eyes, the way your face crinkles up when you smile. it all makes him lightheaded and fuzzy. if he made a doll of you he would show you with pride and point out all the fine details that he captured of you, even the ones you haven’t noticed.

doesn’t like it when you see his ‘cracks’ or flaws. he would like to appear to you as flawless as fresh porcelain, but unfortunately sometimes you make him just a tad too emotional and he starts to show his true colors. he just hopes you don’t hate him or think bad of him. you’re the first visitor he’s had since the others abandoned him…he really would love for you two to be together for as long as possible.

makes you small gifts all the time. really is an arts and crafts kind of guy. he loves seeing your face light up when he gives you dolls or other things he’s made by hand. he also does embroidery and makes doilies. tends to do it when you’re away to pass the time until you come back. he would try and teach you how to do it too.

on the flip side, if you gave him a gift— well he’d just melt. he wouldn’t know what to do. even the smallest gift would send him into a flurry of “oh neighbors” and “i love you”s. he would tear up a bit and immediately put it somewhere where he can see it anytime he wants to. it would be precious to him, no matter how well made.

isolation breed abandonment issues. he wouldn’t like you leaving his side that much, and if you do he would wait patiently until you get back. he isn’t the kind of guy to set a curfew, as you’re your own person and an adult but he would definitely expect you to be back before nightfall at least.

would allow you to call him ‘dolly’, simply because it amuses him.

doesn’t sleep that well and has trouble sleeping, he usually spends that time alone but when you’re around he likes to watch you sleep. he stands over you with his arms folded behind his back, or sits on your bed and watches over you as you snooze along. he’d brush your hair out of your face, or whisper to you as you sleep. things he would probably never say to you if you were awake. he’d also take that time to study your face more closely for his doll of you. more time to look at you the better. you look so peaceful and it brings his heart joy to know you’re here with him, and safe. if you’d allow him, he would love to cuddle you while you sleep and would do the same either way.

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

these were just silly little ideas i brewed up! i’ve been having real bad brainrot of dollhouse ever since i saw him and i haven’t really seen that much content of him around and that’s a shame because his design is absolutely incredible.

i’d also like to take this time to mention that my requests are open! as long as you follow my guidelines, we should get along just fine. i can’t guarantee i will get to every one but i can try! hope to see you soon, neighbor.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Masterpiece of Art

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || Your husband gives you an anniversary present that has you looking like a goddess—a masterpiece, perfection in every way.

World Count || 886

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Mild Smut — [N]SFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, implied sex and sexual activities. Lots of fluff as well!

Authors Note || This is for @the-slumberparty Week One Slumber Party Game. I chose A Diamond Necklace. Thank you guys for hosting! This was such a fun piece to write and it turned out perfect <3

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

You can also read this story on AO3 and Wattpad! But remember to come back to this post and Reblog to show support! I would appreciate it if you left a Comment, as well as a Kudos/Vote on whichever platform you decide to read on :) Thank you!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

It was yours and Bucky’s one-year wedding anniversary. And to celebrate, you were going out on a lovely fancy dinner. You and he were getting ready in your shared his and hers grand closet—piecing together fabulous formal wear that would fit the occasion for tonight.

You were almost entirely ready. Hair and makeup were done beautifully. And the dark purple dress you wore fit your figure to perfection—accentuating your curves and features. It was just the jewelry left to choose and match with your outfit. You pulled out rows of the expensive ones you owned and hunted to find the perfect ones.

The ring on your finger was an easy pick—wedding ring, of course. It always stayed on, and the significant meaning of the ring was the most perfect accessory you could ever wear. And for the earrings, you chose a pair of your favorites—the ones Bucky gave you on the first Christmas you celebrated together. But as you scanned the various necklaces, nothing really stood out. They were all, of course, beautiful in their own way, but nothing really struck your fancy.

“Hmm, what to choose from?” You mumbled to yourself as you tapped the fingers on the glass cover.

That was your husband’s perfect cue to make his way over to you.

A familiar arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled you into a perfectly toned chest—a place that had been your home for the last three years. You hummed in contentment and closed your eyes as a perfect set of lips ghosted across your jawline before peppering soft kisses down your neck. A flow of pleasurable tingles spread throughout your nerves at the tender and loving affection.

“What are you looking for, princess?” Your husband mumbled in the curve where your neck and shoulder met.

“A necklace to go with the outfit. Is there anything that stands out to you?”

“Actually, there is, but it’s not something you own. At least not yet.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he turned you around, and in his hands, he held a deep blue velvet box. Opening it up, you were presented with the most stunning piece of jewelry you’d ever laid your eyes on—a diamond necklace. It outshined the rest of the jewelry you owned, but it wasn’t anything too heavy—it was a perfect balance between subtle and grand—elegant and simple. You were in awe of it, and Bucky chuckled at your speechlessness.

You almost didn’t want to touch it—your fingers only lightly brushed along the edges. You didn’t feel worthy of wearing such a masterpiece of art. But before you could voice your thoughts, Bucky pulled you to the full-length mirror and stood behind you.

He laid the necklace across your collarbone and clasped it at the back. The gems against your skin were a beautiful perfection, putting a finishing touch on your attire for the evening. You touched the necklace proudly now. A smile on your face as you examined yourself in the mirror.

Your insecurities from before were all tossed to the side once you saw how it all fit together, and especially by the way your husband was looking upon you in complete adoration.

He wrapped his arms around you again. “Gorgeous,” he muttered as he kissed your shoulder, lingering his lips there for a moment before resting his chin on the same spot. “You look like a piece of artwork, my love. Happy anniversary.”

“It’s beautiful, James. Absolutely perfect,” you uttered as you touched the gems one last time before cupping the side of his face with your hand. He leaned into it, kissing your palm and smiling in contentment at the tender touch.

“You are beautiful, princess. Absolutely breathtaking.” His warm breath brushed against your skin as he spoke, and you gasped at the sensation. “It’s you that makes the necklace perfect. Without you, it would just be a dull piece of nothing. Insignificant. Nothing of value. You make it worth something. It’s you that brings out its beauty. Only you.”

His loving declaration of your aesthetic quickly became sensual as his previous soft touches and praises turned into erotic ones.

“You know what will be even more perfect?” He mumbled against your skin as he slowly glided the tip of his nose down the column of your neck, making you purr and close your eyes in delight. “When I have you home later tonight. In nothing but that pretty necklace as I take your gorgeous body that belongs to me. Kissing and touching every inch of your divine skin.” He continued his journey towards your shoulder, leaving open-mouth kisses across it. “Fucking you so good that you’ll scream my name all night long.” And then back up your neck again. “What do you say, princess? Does that sound like the perfect evening to you?”

He pulled you closer to his body, and you felt his growing bulge digging into your ass, making you whine in need to have it deeper in you. It looked like the evening may be cut short, and you would jump straight to the delicious dessert part.

You didn’t mind at all. An evening of sex and pleasure with your husband was nothing you could ever say no to. You could do the fancy dinner another time.

“It sounds perfect, James.”

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