#everyone is too nice there so consider the last sketch as “if they all have good relationships to bigby”

[herman-draws]

the tundra

inspired by this. just. cmon man

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know You? Part 3

Jason Todd x Reader (no reader character this chapter)

Synopsis: Jason's family is far too nosey for their own good.

Notes: This chapter is a little different. I wanted to try Jason's POV and add the rest of the family. If any of them seem out of character, you’re probably right. Again, this was just an attempt to add a little drama to move the story forward and please enjoy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

Jason had experienced a lot of things in life, but he really hated family dinners. It’s not that he hated his family (only sometimes). It's that it always felt awkward. His guard was constantly up. He had wronged just about everyone in the room one way or another. Not that they ever physically showed repulsion towards him, he didn’t believe that they had forgiven him, not in the slightest. He just thinks they have all collectively decided if we don’t talk about things, they didn’t happen.  Which was fine with him, but it apparently made himself less intimidating to them, considering how Dick was currently draped over his shoulder, yammering on about something that happened in Bludhaven.

“and then I said ‘That’s not a very nice thing-‘” Jason cuts him off.

“No offense, Dickwad, I don’t know what you're talking about.” He says gruffly, crossing his arms in front of him. He had been led into a trap he thinks. Dick had texted him and told him dinner would be at 5:30 tonight instead of the usual 6. He should have seen it as the red flag it was since Alfred usually calls him about family dinners. Dick promptly pouts and dramatically lays himself across the couch beside Jason.

“that’s so mean, little wing, I’m trying to tell you a story.”

“Yeah, a story you’ve told everyone, like, five times” Tim jumps into the conversation where he sits upside down on the couch with Steph playing an old-school Gameboy.

“TT, I agree with Drake and Todd. If you tell this story again, Grayson, I may choose physical violence against you.” Damian adds from where he sketches a charcoal drawing of Titus and Cass. Jason chuckles at the fact that both Damian and Tim agree with him, but his body stays tense, he takes periodic looks in the direction of the kitchen, willing Alfred to move quicker. He contemplates just going to help Alfred instead of staying here when he tunes back into the conversation.

“-no one else around,” Steph says not looking up from her phone in her upside-down position.

“you guys are no fun” Dick continues to pout as he sits back up, clearly not having gained an ounce of sympathy in his pose. He turns to Jason with a look in his eye that worries him.

“So, Barbara says you’ve stopped by Aparo Park a lot on your patrols. What's that about?”

Jason didn’t know his body could tense more than it already was. You lived two blocks from Aparo Park, and he had made a routine as of the last two weeks to check if you were home safe. Tonight was the first time he wouldn’t be stopping by. It's why he went to see you at the coffee shop and walked you home, to make sure you got there. He forgot that Oracle tracks everyone during patrol and silently curses her for sharing that information with Dick of all people.

“Changing up patrol” he answers casually and that should be enough. They all constantly change their patrol routes so it's harder for anyone to track their movements. Apparently, it's not enough because Steph perks up from her seat.

“Are you sure about that?” She questions with a smirk. Oh, she knows something.  Dick had looked like he was going to drop it but at Steph’s comment, he leans back in.

“Not Patrol, then?” He looks at Jason expectantly and Jason pointedly ignores him to glare at Steph to keep her mouth shut. She just shrugs like she's not an instigator in this conversation. When Jason doesn’t speak up, Tim does.

“No, he's been seeing a girl.”

Jason seriously contemplates if it would be bad if he chose to beat Tim up again and drag him back to Titans Tower to make it real reminiscent of the old days when Jason was trying to kill everyone.

“A girl?” Duke interjected. He had been blissfully silent during the entire conversation, and Jason was hoping to keep him as a sibling he liked. Apparently, it would be just Cass and Damian who sat quietly as Damian sketched.

“Yeah, she's real pretty and she's a waitress at a bookshop,” Steph adds like Jason isn’t there.

“She's also not from Gotham, moved here like three years ago over some family drama,” Tim says, and Jason again resists the urge to strangle him.

“You’ve been Stalking her,” Jason states. So much for you only having one ‘Stalker’.

“So, it is a girl!” Jason turns to see Dick grinning widely. “I'm so proud of you little wing!” Dick looks like he's going to dive in for a hug, so Jason stands and ignores the “Oof” of Dick hitting the couch. He points a finger at Steph and Tim.

“Stop stalking her and don’t tell Dick anything.” He points at Duke, who hides a grin behind his hand. “You were doing so well man; you were on my favorite sibling list.” He drops his hand. “I'm going to help Alfred.” He turns and walks through a door and heads for the kitchen. As the door closes, he hears Dick screech, “You have a favorite Sibling list!”

He shakes his head as he walks down the hallway. So much for having a personal life. He doubts Steph had done any stalking, but he knows Tim tells her just about everything and she tells Cass everything, so Cass is definitely in the know too. But Cass also knows when to play the right cards. He was anxious to see when that would be. With Dick, you give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. There’s no doubt he's in there pestering Tim about the Details.  Thank God Damian couldn’t care less about this stuff. He continues his way towards the kitchen when he meets Bruce in the hallway.

“Bruce” Jason says formally

“Jason” Bruce says in a similar manner. He pauses and then says “Your early”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens with a manipulative family.” It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he's still peeved with his siblings. Bruce says nothing so Jason adds “I'm going to help Alfred.”

He doesn’t wait for Bruce to say anything as he continues to the kitchen. Part of him wants to kick himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. While he was tense with the family, things had been getting better and he didn’t want to break that good record because he got emotional over you. He just wanted something good (You) to be just his. But apparently, that was too much to ask.

As he entered the kitchen, the aroma of toasted tomatoes, warm cheese, cooked pasta, and basil overtook his senses. An undertone of melted chocolate and oven-baked cookies hidden underneath it.

“Master Jason, What pleasant surprise, you're early.” The soft tone of the older man draws Jason in. Apparently, Dick didn’t share his scheming with everyone. First Bruce and now Alfred. He wonders for a moment if they think he's trying to reach out or something, but he pushes down the thought.

“Dick’s fault.” He muttered. The way he says Dick’s name implies that he’s not using his actual name.

“Ah, Master Dick does like his way of things. Would you mind stirring the tomato sauce for me while I finish these Cookies?” Alfred asks. Jason moves to the stove. He knows it’s a simple task and one that could have waited until Alfred was done with the cookies but as always Alfred can read Jason in a way the rest of his family sometimes can't.

He stirs it quietly as Alfred works at the island. For a moment he’s reminded of a time before everything went sour. Back when he was Robin and it was just him, Bruce, and Alfred at the Manor, Dick was off doing his own thing. On days he didn’t have school, but Bruce still had to work he would shadow Alfred. The kitchen became its own sanctuary from the hero-ing lifestyle, (Since Bruce was banned from the kitchen after a microwave incident). He would sit at the counter and help stir whatever it was Alfred needed, always giggling as he stole licks and bites here and there. Looking back, he's sure Alfred was intentionally oblivious. The old man had a sharp eye, and he definitely knew. But Jason had been small, malnourished from his time living on the streets. Alfred always gave him what he thought was too large a portion.

“Are you alright?” Alfred’s voice shakes him from his thoughts.

“I’ll be fine.” He huffs out and then backtracks, turning to face Alfred. “I'm just a little upset. My siblings don’t know anything about privacy.”

“I presume this is in reference to your friend.”

Of course, Alfred knows. Jason rolls his eyes but responds quietly, “Yeah”

Alfred is silent before he responds.

“it's only because they care. You’ve come a long way, Master Jason, but you still have lengths to go, as do we all.” He says as he turns back to the cookie tray and places it into the oven. “I do hope, when you're ready, I will meet this girl.”

“Course, Alfred,” Jason says easily. Out of everyone in his family, Alfred would be the person he wants you to meet. Not that you two were anywhere close to that or heading in said direction. He’d barely had a number of short conversations with you, but he couldn't help but hope. There was just something about you that drew him in, and it had grown ten times when your life had been on the line.

Over the next ten minutes, he helped set the table and the food out, thankfully avoiding his siblings. But peace doesn’t last forever. One by one they slowly straggle into the dining room. In the time he had been gone, Barbara had gotten there. He’s almost prepared to share a few choice words with her but his conversation with Alfred stops him from saying anything out loud. It doesn't stop him from thinking it though.

Jason is thankful when Cass takes the seat next to him, but it lasts only so long as Dick takes the one on the other side. He waits expectantly for Dick to say something to him but is surprised when it's Cass that talks to him first.

“She would be good for you,” she says quietly and pats him on the arm. “You need to get her first.” And just like that the conversation is over as she starts dishing up her plate. Out of everything he had expected out of Cass, that wasn’t it. He stares shocked for a moment before Dick interrupts the moment.

“Am I on your favorite sibling list?”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Take a guess.” He answers as he serves himself some food.

Dick silents as the clattering of everyone getting food fills the space, along with the sounds of other personal conversations. After a moment Dick speaks up again more serious than before.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot earlier, just wanted to check in with my baby brother.”

Jason lets out a sigh, “Alright, Dick, your forgiven. Besides you’re not the one stalking her.” He pointedly glares at Tim who only glances at him before going back to talking to Bruce.

“Now drop it.”

To Dick’s merit, he doesn’t say anything finally content with silence. The rest of dinner goes on without any more incidents. Bruce does his normal check-ins running down the line. Dick’s been chasing down a drug trafficking ring showing face in Bludhaven, Tim was planning a new mission with the Titans, Cass, Steph, and Barbara were planning a girl's day out with some of the other Birds of Prey, Duke had had a few slow weeks of day time patrol, and Damain went into a myriad of reasons on why he shouldn’t have to go to school. It was nice to just listen to everyone, living their own lives. When it came to Jason’s turn, he gave a quick rundown of the last three outlaw missions he’d dealt with. Nobody else commented on you, something he was truly grateful for.

At the end of the night, as everyone went their separate ways, Bruce pulled him to the side. He waited nervously to be berated about something. He couldn’t remember killing anyone recently, so it wouldn’t be that type of conversation. Bruce stared him down before setting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I heard something about a girl.” Jason rolled his eyes. Of course, Tim told Bruce, the whole household knew now. Before Jason could speak Bruce continued.

“Don’t worry. I'm not here to pry. I just want to say I'm proud and I hope to meet her someday.” Bruce squeezed his shoulder before dropping his hand.

 “Get home safe and we’ll see you on patrol.” With that, Bruce left him in the foyer. Jason stood shocked for a moment before making his way to his bike. Who knew his family could care and be so invasive at the same time.

Additional Note: Thank you to everyone who reads! I'm currently figuring out where I want this story to go in terms of plot because it feels like it should be going somewhere. This chapter was an attempt to get more characters and again if they feel out of character, they most likely are. I know more about fanon versions than canon versions. Thank you, Thank you, everyone! Someone did request a tag list, so I am creating one. You can ask to be added but if you have commented in the past I will just be adding you. If you would like to be removed please let me know!

Tag list: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs

[after-witch]

Oh What a Birthday Surprise [wri0thesley’s OC Lucas x Reader

Title: Oh What a Birthday Surprise [@wri0thesley's OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: You want to surprise Lucas on his birthday.

Word count: 2841

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abuse

Lucas is not much for celebrating his birthday. 

You know this, not from experience but only because he mentioned it to you, when you’d finally asked--soft, tentative--when he was born. It wasn’t that you truly needed to know--but details were good, especially if you thought you wanted them.

Technically speaking, the question was asked out of that self-preserving politeness that you’ve begun to hone so keenly in order to keep yourself appealing; to keep yourself alive.

Still. Something about the way he mumbled it, the way he confessed that he never paid it no mind. It made something twist inside you. Some curdled bit of pity.

Your own birthdays… before… had been wonderful, delightful affairs. Filled with friends and noise and laughter.

Your friends would take you out shopping, to some excursion, and end with dinner. Sometimes they even planned overnight trips so everyone could squeeze every last ounce of fun from the event. The evenings would end with cake and candles and everyone drunkenly scream-singing “Happy Birthday!” before you all dug in.

Your last birthday had not been quite so grand, though you wouldn’t say Lucas didn’t do his best. He bought a cake in town, and got you some fresh notebooks that you’d asked for (completely new, from the drugstore--oh, to have a notebook without someone else’s scribbles inside it, someone else’s desperate scrawls for help-help-help!) and even some new books. 

Well, used. But new to the cabin, and that was all you wanted.

He let you watch one of the few movies he’d procured that weren’t Westerns. A romantic comedy  that you used to binge-watch on VHS during summer break from school. He was gentler, that night, in bed; more focused on your own pleasure than pounding inside you, as he sometimes did when he got overwhelmingly smitten.

It was a nice day, all things considered.

Maybe that’s why you decided to make his birthday as nice as you could. Within reason, within your severe limitations. Yet there was a nagging thought: what if he told you not to? What if he waved you away if you asked him what he wanted for his birthday?

What if, what if, what if. Maybe those little what-ifs were why some little impulsive imp in your head told you to make it a true-blue surprise. He might not make a fuss over his birthday, but he couldn’t object to you going the extra mile if he didn’t know about it.

There’d be no twisting in your gut if he waved away attempts to find out what he wanted, or sternly told you to leave his birthday alone. No sighs, no slamming of the door leading to the backyard, just a delightful smile and a pat on your head for being so sweet.

Right?

Right.

--

You have to be sneaky. But life with Lucas, by design, makes this difficult. When you stretch your arms and stand up from the sofa with the intent of going into the spare room to work on your gift, he wants to know where you’re going and why you don’t want him to follow and how long you’ll be good.

And you can’t tell him, exactly, that you’re going to work on the handmade scrapbook you’ve decided to give him. Sketches of the cabin, of the chickens, of nature outside the bedroom window. Of him, listening to his record player, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

An almost serene expression on his face, caught before he turned and saw you staring, and stammered something about not staying up too late.

It’s really a ridiculous book. An overly cloying, sentimental thing that only a parent should enjoy (and even then, it would swiftly find itself relegated to the inside of a drawer once childhood faded); but you think Lucas won’t mind the saccharine, homemade nature of it all.

If you could just keep it a secret for two more weeks, anyway.

--

You’re hunched over the worn-out sitting chair in the spare room, adding some color to one of your birthday sketches, when a sudden heavy prickling presence crawls over your back--

Lucas clears his throat and you practically jump, colored pencil nearly stabbing the paper as you bring the book up to your chest.

“Lucas!” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t see you there. I thought--you said you’d be out with the chickens.” It was the perfect opportunity, you’d decided, to get some more work done on the book. With Lucas outside, there was less of a chance that he’d see--that he’d snoop.

So you thought.

It’s hard to make out his expression too clearly, from this distance. It had been two years now since your last eye exam, and you were sure you needed a new prescription. The thought of bringing up such a request with Lucas made you feel sick, so you didn’t. He’d just say no, wouldn’t he?

“Darlin,” he begins, voice low, almost hesitant. “What’re you doin’ in here? Thought I said you should tidy up the living room for me.”

“I did--” You stammer out the lie, stupidly, then correct yourself. “I mean--I was going to, after. I just had to do… something… and then…” The words curl up with your tongue, lying limp as you even from here, you can see his eyebrows start to furrow.

“You know I don’t like lyin’. Ain’t ladylike.” The admonition makes your stomach flip, and you claw desperately to steer everything in a more acceptable direction.

Setting your book away, sketch-side down so he doesn’t see, you stand up and fold your hands prettily together in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” you begin, voice quieter, more mousey. “I should have tidied up like you said. I just got… too eager to draw, and--” Your mind fights for what he might want you to say, and comes up with little else than contrition. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Lucas frowns. You can see that, even from here. Can feel it, really, in the air. 

Eventually, the tension in him loosens. Enough for the knot in your stomach to unwind a little, at least.

“Mind you don’t, darlin’,” is all he says, an edge at the tip of his words, before he gestures for you to follow--no doubt to tidy up the living room like you should have done in the first place.

Working on the book will have to wait until you can get him in a better mood.

--

Two days.

There are only two days left until Lucas’ birthday, and you’re quietly thanking God (if he really exists–you’re torn on that idea, now) for that because: one, there is a small sense of pleasurable curiosity at imagining how Lucas will react to your gift and two, two being the most important of these two factors: your nerves are just about shot. 

Lucas can tell something is up. You’ve been skimping on chores, running to the spare room before bed instead of waiting in the bedroom or living room while he finished up some outdoor evening chores, throwing out excuses when he catches you and asks what you were doing and why you didn’t tell him you were going to be in here. 

Each time seems to stretch something harder between you–some awful sort of tension that you hope will melt away as soon as he gets the book. 

Dinner was quiet, but not the comfortable, homey kind that Lucas sometimes enjoys. There was a thin string plucking against your chest the entire meal, as you placed forkful after forkful of food in your mouth. Meat, vegetables, the usual style of homespun dinner he enjoys and you’ve learned to eat without question.

All that is left tonight is dessert, a slice of blueberry pie you made with a heaping spoonful of ice cream on top, the edges of it melting against your plate as you try to discern if Lucas is angry with you or merely tired from splitting wood in preparation for the upcoming fall.

“Darlin.” 

 Your spoon trembles against the edge of the ice cream, and you set it down.

“Yes?”

When you flutter your lashes and look up at him, Lucas has his face set. Firm. Unyielding. You wonder if you did something truly awful and run a checklist through your mind–you kissed him good morning without a reminder, let him dress you without getting huffy about it, did your chores, set the table, chewed with your mouth closed, ate everything on your plate–and nothing stands out too much.

It’s worse, actually, to not have something to hold yourself accountable for in the face of his apparent irritation.

“You’ve been… quiet lately,” he says, finally, slow, picking his words carefully. “Like you got a secret.”

The food in your stomach feels as hard as a rock, and a low stomach cramp makes sweat bead on the back of your neck. 

You could tell him. Confess it all, right here, right now. Yes, you’ve been quiet and sneaky and weird–because you’re working on a stupid little gift and you thought it would be a good idea because you’re a great big moron.

But… the surprise would be ruined and there’s something awful about being so close to his birthday and giving up on the idea. You can make it through two more days, can’t you? The book is technically done, anyway. You’ve only got to wrap it, and you’re sure you saw some gift wrap in the back of the closet in the spare room. 

So you, divine actress you sometimes imagine you are, swallow hard and try to look demure and apologetic and weak. (You are, in truth, in the face of Lucas and axes and freezers of meat, one of these things.)

“I’ve… I’ve been really tired lately.” You flutter your lashes. “I haven’t been falling asleep right away and… I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m sorry.” 

Sorry, sorry, sorry, a word that flies from your lips so often nowadays, and Lucas seems to eat it up as heartily as he does his meals.

His voice is still gruff, though, and he still frowns despite the slight edge of a worried coo in his voice.

“You need an earlier bedtime, then. And no more extra sugar, least ‘till you start sleepin’ better.” His hand pulls away your pie plate, ice cream uneaten, and he sets about covering the plate with plastic to set in the freezer for some undetermined later date when dessert will be returned to you.

A shame–you really wouldn’t have minded eating ice cream tonight. 

--

Normally, Lucas’ grip on you is as tight as a vice. It was something you worried about, the last few nights, as you debated on how you were going to surprise Lucas with his gift. Ideally, you’d grab it before he woke up, so you could surprise him in bed. It would be more fun that way, more like something they do in the movies.

On this morning though, the morning of his birthday, his arm is not squeezing you like a particularly well-loved teddy bear but simply sprawled loosely across your chest; so loose that you can wiggle out from underneath it.

Which you do, slowly, one eye on him, sure that he’ll wake up with every inch you get. He doesn’t. His eyes stay closed and his mouth stays slack and eventually you reach the end of the bed, thrilled at your blessings, and silently step onto the floor in triumph.

Even then, you keep an eye on him as you creep as quietly as you can–homemade floorboards do love to creak–to the bedroom door. It opens too loudly, and you cringe; but Lucas stays asleep and your stomach flips with excitement as you make it into the hallway and down to the spare room.

You almost want to hum by the time you’re rifling through the closet, but catch yourself before you make too much noise. The book is right where you left it, hidden away in the closet underneath the faded lilac of a jaggedly unfinished crochet blanket.

The wrapping paper is shiny and smooth as you clutch the gift in your hands, a soft, almost stupid little smile on your face, and you turn to–

To find Lucas standing in the doorway, a hulking form, an axe slung over his shoulder, his expression a slightly blurred mask of betrayal and rage. 

There are thoughts in your head. Oh, yes there are. Short, simple.

Oh, you think. It’s Lucas.

Oh, you think. He has an axe.

And “Oh,” is what you say as it all clicks together, as there is an imaginative flash of him bringing the axe down on your skull, as you realize that he is going to kill you and it’s going to really, really fucking hurt. Your stomach clenches and there’s something warm running down your leg and your thoughts spin, desperate to think about something nice before it all ends–

And maybe.

Maybe there is a God after all, or just sheer dumb luck, because Lucas does not spring forward and bring the axe down in the middle of your face. Instead he seems to flinch, seeing the colorful purple-and-gold wrapping paper shimmering in the morning light creeping through the window, a shiny package clutched in your trembling hands.

It’s his turn, now, for “Oh.” His mouth forms a circle over the words, savoring them like cake. “Oh, darlin.’” The snarl turns into a trembling smile, something soft and intimate and almost new to his expression. “You… for my birthday?”

You’re not dead, you realize, eyes still frozen on the axe he’s holding. You’re not dead, because you can still speak. “Yes,” you said, wheezing. “I-I wanted to surprise you. For your birthday. I thought… thought that might be okay.”

“Darlin,” he says, softly, almost unbelieving. “‘Course it’d be okay. You think I’d say no to anything you make me? To you thinking ‘bout me so sweetly?” 

You don’t answer, and his gaze finally follows your own–the axe still slung against his shoulder, the handle gripped in his palm–and he looks almost sheepish as he steps back into the hall, hefts the axe back onto the wall, and comes back in the room with an almost shy smile on his face. 

There is even, just visible in the morning light, a blush deepening the color on his cheeks.

Like he’s pleased and embarrassed and like he didn’t intend to just bash in your face with the sharp end of an axe, like he wasn’t going to grind you into hamburger for a Friday night dinner, like he wasn’t about to end your life.

He steps forward, and it takes everything inside you, every bit of strength you’ve tried to build over your captivity, to not flinch as he embraces you, present squishing against your chest.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. No one’s ever made such a fuss for me on my birthday. ‘Cept you. You know that, honey?”

It is a testament to your carefully constructed layers, mud and slime hardened to protect you, that you do not let the internal scream pass your lips. You shove it down with the other reactions where it belongs--where it must be, if you want to live.

Still, you can’t speak. Not yet. You whimper something–in fear, in agreement, all mixing together in the moment. 

Lucas pets the back of your head, smiling down at you. He almost looks lost in love, in wonder. “Wouldn’t hurt you, sweetheart,” he continues, just as kindly. “Not as long as you never give me a reason to. You know that, don’tcha?” 

You nod, obedient spouse that you are, through the prickling tears that make him coo and wipe his thumb near your eyes.

He presses himself against you, and murmurs.

“If you ever left me, darlin’, why--I just couldn’t take it. Just couldn’t take it,” he repeats, holding you tighter. Kisses are pressed against the top of your head, and you feel him breathing through his nose, slower and slower. Like he’s the one who just had the fright of his life. 

Eventually, he pulls away, not before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He’s got morning breath and so do you, but at least he didn’t kill you, so there’s no point in complaining. 

If Lucas feels any particular way about the damp patch against your nightgown, about the small puddle of urine on the cabin floor, by-products of seeing your own death in the doorway, he says nothing about it.

He’s kind enough to simply put his arm around your shoulder, your own arms still clutching the gift, and begin guiding you out of the room. 

“Thank you for thinking of me, honey. Let’s just… get ourselves cleaned up and I’ll open my present. I bet it’s something real special.”

He doesn’t stop smiling as he leads you into the bathroom–he won’t stop smiling all morning, in fact. 

Next year, you will simply ask him what he’d like for his birthday instead. 

[yourminecraftboyfriend]

nygmobs gems cuz I’ve fully lost the plot at this point

flushed out sketches under cut

(Gonna use he/him pronouns even tho most gems are she/her i knoowwwwww dont correct me on the lore ive seen this show like 3 times)

- even though generally he’s a pretty shit lawyer, Ed breaks open a pretty high-profile case, meaning his superior has to begrudgingly reward him

- as is custom, pearls are treated as property, basically status symbols, and post his recent victory Ed is given Oz (shortening names cuz they wouldn’t use their full ones) but he’s intended to be more of a punishment for Ed, since again no one likes him and Oz has been given the permanently defective status

- this is a huge downgrade for Oz considering the last gem he ‘worked’ for was a high-status general, in charge of many platoons of colonists. Needless to say, he’s bitter about the reassignment, but it was either this or be shattered (can no longer be reset with the permament chip in his gem)

- Ed’s really excited to be given a pearl (literally no one listens to him or talks to him so he’s Hype to have a gem around that has to listen to him)

- Oz doesn’t. Obviously. He figures out pretty quickly that Ed is not well-liked in his department and that he won’t report what Oz does (or doesn’t do) considering its very likely that Oz will be taken away from him if he does, and then he’ll go back to having no one around

- So now he’s not even trying to play nice, completely mean and bitter, finds Ed insufferable (Jesus Christ how does he have no many riddles just ready to go?) and they fight. A lot. But also Oz has never been allowed to talk back to any gems like this, and to Ed any attention is some attention at least

- they end up accidentally bonding when Ed says that he wishes he was made as a Peridot (or any gem that was made to do research) because then his intelligence would actually be respected, Oz says that Ed’s got it good, that he wishes he was made as literally any other gem because he was sick of following orders, he wanted power of his own

- they start ‘planning’ together. Mostly just hypotheticals, how they’d get respect, implicate gems that wronged them, prove their worth to higher-ups

- at one point mid plotting session they’re getting particularly into it, a little too intense and excited. This plan could work, the hypotheticals are seeming more feasible by the minute and neither of them has ever had a gem listen to them like this, and they accidentally fuse

- Chalcedony is initially quite stable. Being him feels so insanely good that they basically forget to panic for a while. He’s all ego with minimal self-esteem problems (which both Ed and Oz have, mostly due to how theyre treated by other gems, even if they believe they’re better than everyone else), believes he’s entitled to and able to obtain anything that he desires, and that he alone above everyone else should be revered, respected, and listened to

- when they unfuse, they both immediately know they want to do it again, though of course they won’t ask for it. Cue some comedy of errors nonsense where they both try to engineer situations that might make them ‘accidentally’ fuse again

(I’ve got more but this post is long enough already)

[tremendouscreationperson]

This covers like 6-8 months so if it's too quick it's cuz it's snippets

Also be careful cuz there's a scene where the reader almost gets assaulted

The Ghoul's eyes scanned the room he had been placed in. Finally after a long journey he was rid of the thorn in his side. He was able to collect his bounty, he would be the richest mother fucker he knew.

As always it started with a Vault. A Vault whose leader ventured out and met a bounty post. The postee took all the information down and was quick to inform everyone they could and then four years later the Ghoul found himself entangled with you.

You were hustling pool at a two bit bar when he glanced at you - he hadn't even registered who you were. The memory scrappy and faded in his riddled mind but as luck would have it he had forced the postee to hand the sketch over.

Your nose was slightly crooked, it had obviously been broken, and your eyes were tired but you were the same girl.

It didn't take long to introduce himself, beat you and convince you to come outside. He hadn't had this much game in a while. How did a Vault Dweller like you flirt with a fella like him?

Fast forward to him tying you up and having to be infuriatingly nice to you because the job was specific that no harm should come to you. There would be a Cap Penalty if you were damaged. Which got him thinking, how did a goddamn Vault get Caps? They must've been selling supplies.

He tried not to think too hard on it, not when you were actively trying to commit suicide.

"Please, sir." Your voice was gravelly with lack of water, you'd spat each mouthful he forced down you at him. "Don't do this. Just kill me."

The Ghoul wasn't one for niceties, he hadn't been for years but seeing you like this made him consider it. Made him want to ease your brow, have you trust him enough to drink from his bottle, prove himself to you.

"I'll do anything, be anything." Your calloused hands reached out, grazing his arm. The Ghoul tightened his grip on your reigns, your hands were far too close to the gun belt slung across his waist. "Please."

His eyes flashed between yours, there was a genuine promise behind them. You were scared. He was the cause of your fear. Usually that was a turn on. "C'mon, princess." He dragged you behind him.

The two of you wandered the wasteland, him usually hauling your sorry ass (physically over his shoulder or with the lasso), there was a stiff silence between you.

You probably felt ashamed for your offer, he probably felt stupid for not accepting it. Either way you went from place to place as he tried to find the Vault. It had been years since he got the vague information and there were hundreds of Vaults hidden.

Eventually you began to sleep around him rather than just pretend. His own sleep schedule was near non-existent these days so it was a blessing that you had started. However that begged the question: were you trying to trick him? So every night he tied you tighter and placed his metal bottle along with a metal cup he had stolen on the lasso. If you move he would hear it, some nights you tossed and turned and you woke him unintentionally.

Those nights were... odd.

Maybe it was because you reminded him of a time long lost - your classic beauty made for the silver screen - or maybe he was just in need of a good fuck. But he felt strangely uneasy when you twitched and whimpered as dreams haunted your mind.

Entering the next town had been a mistake. Of course it had, he had known it as soon as he saw the first look you received.

The townsfolk were freakish looking people - milky eyes and scraggly hair - and they salivated at the sight of you.

The Ghoul barely got the two of you out of there alive, breaking the last of his RadAway. A fact he only realised as you two nestled into an abandoned home. One with walls and everything!

"Shit!" He peeled the bag from his side, broken glass embedded into his leathery skin.

You watched him toss the bag to the side and pluck at the shards. He swore again kicked at the sand beneath his feet.

"How fucked are we?" Your voice pulled him from his anger. You had smoothed the mess of your hair and placed your jacket on the ground as a pillow, staring up at him on bent knees.

The Ghoul didn't want to tell you. You could use this as leverage. If he divulged and you betrayed him he wouldn't forgive himself. This was rule 101. Don't trust the bounty! "We'll make a detour. We're fine."

You scrunched your face but didn't answer back. He had saved you today and yeah it was for the reward on your head but you did appreciate not being murdered or raped or some other horrid third option.

He was not his best the next few days. You were scavenging for RadAway in the few houses you passed but came up empty and he was coughing an awful lot.

"Look, we need to go back." You proposed the idea, with less confidence than you spoke it.

The Ghoul grunted.

"There wa-" He had stooped to your level, interrupting you with his movements, his forehead inches from yours as his eyes bore into your very soul. "Was a pharmacy in that town. I'm not trying to- if you're in pain I'll help."

He stayed there, breathing in your air, for longer than what was comfortable and straightened. "We ain't going back. We'll keep heading East." He took a step back and waited.

You weren't quite sure what he was waiting for.

"C'mon, fleshbag move it." He tugged your elbow and thrust you ahead of him.

The RadAway issue was sorted. You'd hit the jackpot. It meant killing a bunch of people but that hadn't previously bothered the two of you.

The Ghoul has lost sight of you during the fight only to be pleasantly surprised when you rocked up next to him with a case in your hand.

He was only thankful that he didn't have to chase you down.

And so once more into the breach.

Your hands were no longer bound, merely adorned in the finest lasso belt. He didn't want you to get too cocky so was a little harsher with his words every now and then.

But you eagerly divided your scavenged goods and food without hesitation. You were actually eating and drinking enough to function and he was able to relax slightly around you because you wouldn't drop dread. He didn't have to monitor your intake.

Things had changed fully from your first meeting when the second bounty was caught. You'd noticed the papers in the Ghouls jacket as you beat the thing dry. They were tattered and the pencil was so faded but they were bounty posters.

"Wha'd'ya doin'?" He scowled over your shoulder.

"Looking." You waved the posters. "It must be an interesting job."

He huffed in response but didn't take the paper from you as he yanked the coat on.

The man was short and stout but had the ego of someone tall and muscular. He endlessly flirted with you and made cruel remarks to your captor.

The Ghoul was ready to set him free - just be rid, with him free he wouldn't have to drag anyone around! The fucking poster said alive so he couldn't just kill the dickhead, if it go any worse he'd start cutting off fingers - but you were... Happy? Excited? It was an emotion he hadn't felt for a while so it was hard to recognise but you stood and took whatever the man said in order to hand him over.

"Where do we take him?" You asked at the Ghouls right. The lasso was no longer attached to you but to your new 'friend'.

"He's wanted West from here, eight days walk."

And so you did.

You walked and walked and walked.

And it was taxing.

So on the sixth night when you noticed the Ghoul's eyes drooping, and you couldn't recall the last time either of you had properly slept, you tugged the lasso out of his hands.

"Two hours." Was all you said.

He understood.

He hated that he understood.

Fuck, why did he understand?!

And why did it feel good to be understood?

He slept and you kept watch. Nothing happened. No one said anything. It was as simple as that.

The next night carried on in the same fashion. You took the lasso and bid him goodnight.

Only for the Ghoul to wake up to muffled noises.

His eyes flashed open and he couldn't see you. The Ghoul scanned the area until his tired eyes made out a vague silhouette.

He jumped into action, hand immediately grabbing a nonexistent gun. Shit, where was his- No time to think. He flung himself at the man.

There was a scuffle and the Ghoul managed to smash the butt of the stolen pistol into his head, knocking the assailant out cold.

You were laying on the sand with your hands covering your face, vest top torn and the flies of your jeans broken.

The silence was screaming. It was shouting right into his ear canal, right in front of his eyes, it was in his skin.

But he didn't dare break it.

What could he - your captor - say to make you feel better?

Finally your hands fell to your sides and you spoke to the sky. "He needed the toilet."

Cooper didn't know what to say. He really didn't.

"You were kind to me." Your voice was small. "You allowed me that luxury."

Because I can fight you.

Cooper sighed, dropping his head. He then bound the man as tight as he could, wrapping the lasso multiple times around his torso, shoulders, chest and hands before he stood, waiting.

You understood his gesture. Neither of you could sleep now anyways.

In the morning the harsh glow of the sun revealed the bruising on your face and arms.

As soon as he got the reward he dragged you into the remnants of a clothing shop and watched your face stay blank.

It had been blank all morning, all afternoon. It was eerie. You weren't ever this void. When you had fought him, you'd been passionate in your defiance. When you shared food you gave him a mock-scared expression, making him eat first - making him actually consume the food - and you smiled an awful lot for a bounty. How had he only realised that?

"That's nice." He attempted, pointing at an insanely faded white shirt.

"There's no point wasting your Caps." You finally brought your eyes to him, after a whole day of avoidance. "Let's just get to the Vault."

Cooper frowned. This wasn't you. What had happened? Had he been too late? "No, we're getting you clothes."

You didn't have the strength to roll your eyes.

"Want to tell m-"

"Nothing happened." You folded your arms. "I dunno why I'm so messed up."

"There's a bar over the road."

You shook your head. "There's no point, let's ju-" Your words violently halted when his fingers found your arm. He was delicate and you allowed the movement so he proceeded to bring you in close.

To...

To...

He...

Well, he hugged you.

He pulled you into a sweet embrace and you melted into the man, tears creeping down your cheeks.

The Ghoul would never bring this up ever. He couldn't. Why was he hugging you?!

But he knew you needed it.

The two of you did get that drink after you picked up some undamaged clothes.

So Cooper did something batshit: he stroked your spine.

There was a shift in the dynamic now; you stood closer to him and he hovered for you. It was nothing obscene but he noticed it.

And he was beginning to think you were gorgeous. The new clothes fit you better than their predecessors. Your jeans tugging at your thighs and ass as your shirt clung to your chest but was loose by your stomach causing it to blow in the breeze. Making you reveal your sweet sweet flesh.

It was as though he was turning feral. He felt hot - hotter than usual - and needy.

He definitely needed a good fuck.

And he didn't like to admit it but you were his favourite option.

He was toying with the thoughts when you literally stumbled across the Vault.

It was here.

Your bounty.

You were here.

Months of walking and slowly warming to each other.

It had taken months. A year perhaps?

But you were here.

"The code is 5829." You spoke.

He observed you. There were no outward signs of distress but he knew you better than that. You wanted to run. Wanted to hide. In fact, you were hiding your face from him.

"Let's get this over with."

Cooper didn't want to.

He really didn't.

"Let's go." He offered. "I don't need the Caps."

Your face was vulnerable. "You'd be set for life."

"No, I wou-"

"I saw my poster."

You were correct, of course, he would be set for life. He would be able to roam because he wanted to, not because he needed to. He could devote his whole being into finding Barb. The whole reason he was obsessed with bringing you back was in case this was her Vault. "I don't need the Caps."

The two of you stood on the threshold in a confused trance before you took a step back.

And that movement caused the one thing you were now trying to avoid to happen.

The door unlocked and identical men surround you.

"Y/N!" A smarmy man clapped his hands.

It had been so long, Cooper had forgotten your name - foregoing it with terms like 'princess', 'fleshbag' and 'doll' - he hadn't even considered giving you his and now it was too late.

He wanted you to know him.

He wanted you.

"Priestley." You gave a curt nod.

"Oh, and who's this creature?" Priestley eyed Cooper.

Cooper wanted to say a few choice words but you didn't let him. "This is the Ghoul that captured me, give him the bounty or I'm not coming."

Priestley giggled. "'not coming', you don't exactly have a choice." Two men clasped your arms and secured you. "I don't have the Caps here, they're downstairs. Feel free to unholster your weapon as you follow me. I have no use for fucking bottle Caps so I won't fight you."

Cooper was panicking.

He knew that it was best to play along.

But he hadn't thought about you actually being taken as a bounty. He hadn't known it would cause this pain.

You were willingly led behind the man into a lift and Cooper had to speed up to make it before the thing began it's descent.

Priestley hopped off the lift and snaked his way through the identical tunnels. The air was too still here, too pure.

He then snapped his fingers and you were being dragged to the right.

"Not you, I'm afraid sir." He ceased Coopers movements with a skittish palm.

This was it.

You were being taken.

"Wait!" You begged. "Please, jus-one moment!"

Priestley let an exaggerated sigh out but snapped and the men stopped.

You turned the best you could, meeting Coopers gaze. "Thank you for... I don't know. Your company? Goodbye."

The words could have easily been read as sarcastic and cruel but he knew you were sincere. You were really thanking him for his time. Thanking him for being kind when he really shouldn't have been.

And so here he found himself scanning the room he was sitting in whilst Priestley produced the Caps.

"What'll happen to her?" Coop asked, ignoring the offered treasure.

Priestley's brows rose to his hairline. "Oh, you don't know. This will be exciting to explain. We are a cloning Vault at heart and speaking of hearts... That little ticker is meant for Brianette. I can't believe Y/N could steal Vault Tec property like that! She knew she was a stand in. Knew she was made to be the spare, we took her womb and a kidney not long befo-I don't know why she would run away. It's a glorious privilege to serve her."

"Excuse me?" Cooper drawled. "You're going to dissect her?"

"No, of course not." He gave Cooper an insulted glare. "That would imply she was dead."

The bullet left Coopers gun before his brain processed the movement. He had not registered pulling the trigger.

Where were you?

He needed to find you.

Cooper sprinted through the corridor and back towards where you parted ways but the corridors all looked the same and what was left was now right so he was getting himself all sorts of lost.

Cooper's chest heaved with dread exhaust as he ran down another corridor. He needed to find you.

Where the fuck were you?!

Cooper eventually found a set of doors which he couldn't access.

He must be getting close, right?

The Ghoul blasted the mechanics with his gun and the door stuttered open, just wide enough to to slip past.

Cooper kept on desperate to find you. He needed to find you!

There were identical men guarding one door when he bounced down the corridor. Bingo.

Coop made quick work with them before he pounded at the door, shooting it relentlessly.

That door unlocked and opened a fraction. Cooper had to yank at the metal and eventually it was suitable for him to squeeze his body through.

And there you were.

Laying naked in a pod, water was filling it and you were chained to the bottom. This must be a decontamination chamber.

Cooper stomped up to the pod and thrust the door open before the water rose to your nose.

You coughed as the water burst, drenching him as the door broke. "Ghoul?" The word was dazed.

"I'm here. We're leaving." He promised.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 374: Marisela's Project

“Hi sweetie..!” came the voice of Melissa Monroe, currently the Office Manager of what was Far Horizons Medical Associates. She had stepped back into the office just a few minutes ago after a long day of testing at Evolution Pharmaceuticals, where everyone seemed to have their panties in a bunch after seeing what she could do. Evening was dropping earlier these days, and the light coming in thru the windows of the staff offices was already red with the oncoming sunset.

“Hey,” replied Marisela Vazquez, as she turned around in her desk chair to face her supervisor...

She’d been working on, simultaneously, tracking the city police department’s investigations, a predictive model of product assimilation, and this weird little animation. She was happy for the break.

“Whatcha doin’?” came Melissa next, with a friendly smile and earnest interest. She was so happy she had girls like Marisela, Lakshmi, like Randi and Aubrey. They took care of the office when she had to be away.

“Working on this algorithm for the study and, uh, this…” Marisela answered, pushing her chair out of the way just enough so Melissa could see her screen.

With a few mouse clicks the animation sprung to life, filling a good part of her monitor’s 27-inch screen…

The rough, hand-drawn skit looped and looped, several times.

“Oooh! Cool!” Melissa sang, laughing as she watched the pencil-sketch woman outgrow the pencil-sketch man, over and over. Like it was doing to Marisela, stuff like this lit a secret little fire inside the beautiful, towering woman, and she felt herself wetten. How weird haha. “You’re such a good artist!”

“Thanks,” Marisela replied, somehow a bit bashful under the attention of this overgrown sexpot. The irony of her own reticence was not lost on her; she was shy when it came to her sketches, but had no problems with what she’d done last night, in the darkness of the city’s alleyways. She tucked a long lock of her straight, sable hair behind one ear, riddled with piercings, and ran her tongue over her eye teeth.

“You’re going to send this out to everyone, right?” Melissa urged, smiling broadly as of course she was picturing herself in place of the pencil-sketch woman. They’d all want to see this, and picture themselves there, too.

“I was, uh…considering it,” Marisela responded, squirming a little bit in her own chair. She’d gotten past the point of wondering how she, “Scary Mary” - once the office pariah for her acerbically prickly personality and dark sense of fashion - had come to relish sharing funny gifs with her coworkers. Now the thought of sending this out made her hot. “You don’t think he’d mind?”

“Haha no he’ll love it!” Melissa laughed, leaning down a bit to place her hand on Marisela’s shoulder as the young woman turned back to her screen.

The touch of Melissa’s strong but gentle grip sent shivers into Marisela. What the fuck is that? she shuddered. It was a nice feeling, a great feeling in fact. It made her feel good, strong, confident. It excited her. It brought back a rush similar to what she’d felt after what she’d done last night. Stringing that asshole rapist up above the alleyway, after she’d broken his spine and butchered his friend made her feel alive, just like this.

“Okay, if you insist,” Marisela chuckled, moving her cursor around, re-saving the animation in a new format, better for attaching to an intra-office e-mail. Her eyes sparkled as she did stuff like this; it’s like she could feel them twinkling, like two dark stars in her sockets. Between her everyday tasks at the office with patient care, her tech-support duties, her side-hustle working with the study data, and silly little projects like this animation, Marisela tried to keep herself busy to distract herself from her murderous cravings. They’d grown over time (like these goddamn tits), and now came to her all throughout the day, rather than just waiting for nightfall as they once did.

Melissa stood back up.

“Hey, so, is he still here?” she asked,  “I really want to see him.”

“I think so- he was in the procedure room, last I heard, working on the abscess on Mr. Burke’s right f-”

“Ew gross okay,” Melissa stopped her, “I’ll go find him.” She watched as the animation loop ran and ran on Marisela’s screen. She hesitated.There had been something she had been wanting to ask Marisela to do, but she never seemed to find the right moment. Now, she figured, was as good a time as any.

“Hey, so, sweetie,” Melissa began, “I have a project I’d like you to work on…”

================================================

big big thanks to friend-of-the-Basic Joshua67 for the animation and RiF again for his help with copy

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis And Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week Three: Journaling or Hiking

Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis keeps a journal of his life, the pages now a nice honey-gold color now.

This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and shared! I appreciate how much you all embrace this couple and love them. Please make sure you vote on Fridays for next week's this or that activity. Happy Reading!

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

The little leather bound book was usually held closed with a strip of rawhide wrapped around it, the creases in the binding threatening to break apart. But today it sat opened in the last bit of autumn grass, now loosing its luscious emerald color and turning gold in the last bit of the days sunlight. Scattered pages were flipping back and forth with the wind picking up, it crossed small sketches of wild birds in flight, species of wildflowers with color described along the edge of the petals, short snippets of words stringing together into some kind of unheard lyric, and traces of honey colored gold edging on some of those pages. 

Those honey colored golds were new words and sketches, something never added to this little book of its owners' adventures. Long before the entries were full of lost feelings, like a storm brewing on the pages that boomed with confusion in life. A lost young boy trying to figure out the circumstances of his existence. 

Why why why. I miss them, I never knew them. 

They weren’t always dark, not till he turned into a young man, those unanswered questions his loved ones couldn’t answer made him angry and upset. Black curled the pages, driving away his happiness till it took over too many pages and the written dates stopped for just a short time. 

Then those dark entries turned lighter, muted shades of color cutting through the darkness that brewed in his words. They were spring green with pride at his accomplishments, a baby girl pink the first time he held his niece who came fiercely into this world, a swirl of blue sadness as he once more had to make lasting memories for himself while having to watch age claim his grandparents. 

Now recent pages are rich gold fading the darkness to the narrow parts of his pages, discussions about how your laugh would make his heart race and crave for more, that the softest brush of fingertips can make him feel alive and able to tackle anything, how everything slowed down in his life, turned better, turned to a place he loved his life. 

Slow dances in the kitchen in between flipping a pancake, teasing and playing up the stairs to land in the bedroom, even heated words simmering between the two until the built walls get shattered and you two learn how to be together that much more.

Yeah that little leather bound book of Curtis’s had been filled with some moments in his life- it told the weeping story of his losses, the trials of having to grow up and find a place in this world, and now its the chapter of how he is finding peace and how to want someone just for himself. 

Curtis hopes for the next chapter of his journal will be what some might consider a happy ending, or in better words a happy beginning. For now he is satisfied with what he was writing in these pages. 

His pen dappled ink along those pages lazily today while watching you nearby in the old gardens you had spent the summer bringing to life. The golden hues of afternoon filtering around you as you said your silent goodbyes to the last of your bees while they prepared for their long winter. 

Curtis picked up his book, flipping to a new page as he sketched slowly, glancing up at you under a heavy brow. His pen took some hesitating strokes, but confidence grew as his image took life.

Later he would do it properly, but for now, he gave your form a sway across the page, small notes of the colors marked in place so he could maybe explore with paints… he always wanted to try paints. 

Maybe it was time to try. 

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Four (Part 2)

The next day I’m late for life drawing class as usual, and everyone is already laying their sketchbooks out on the floor as I burst into the studio, already halfway out of my raincoat and gloves. Ida doesn’t say anything, she just glances around at me, pauses, and then keeps talking to the rest of the class, which is obviously a thousand times worse than a scolding. I hastily unzip my bag and wrench my sketchbook out of it, only slightly wet around the edges from the torrential rain soaking through the flimsy canvas of my bag. I race over to lay it on the floor amongst the others. 

Marnie shoves a sharp elbow into my ribs as I take my place beside her, and I glance at the side of her face to see her smirking. Yes. I want to hiss. I know I keep doing this, apparently I’m just completely unable to get my life together and be a functioning person, Okay?

“Like I was saying,” Says Ida, as it dawns on me that I have interrupted her, and instantly wish I was dead. “I wanted to see improvements from all of you in the anatomy of your figures last week, so I’m very interested to see what you’ve done for today.” She bends down and begins to slowly flip through the pages of one sketchbook. “What do we think about this work?” 

“Nice sense of movement.” Says one student. 

“Yeah, the sketches of the man with the glasses are very nice.” Says another, while I desperately rack my brains for something to say. What do I think? Do I have a single opinion in my head about anything? 

Ida moves from one sketchbook to the next, and everyone discusses their work. I watch who’s speaking, and slowly, one by one, everybody eventually speaks up. Except for me. I have nothing to say. I am blank. I bring my thumbnail to my mouth and chew on it anxiously, feeling tension and shame growing inside me like a lump in my gut. 

She reaches for a sketchbook full of dark, confident lines, and I know immediately who it belongs to. I watch as she flips through the pages, all moody sketches of silhouettes in windows, backlit by street lamps, a whole page filled with a scratchy portrait of a man in a jacket, hard lines and planes on his face. 

“They’re good.” I force myself to say, at last. My voice seems to echo extra loudly in the studio and I have never been more aware of myself but I push through the fear. “But I think they’re messy. The anatomy is lost among all the smudges. I wish they were done much neater.” I glance up to meet Dean Cullen’s eyes, and quirk my eyebrow at him. How do you like it? I want to tell him. Doesn’t feel that good, does it? 

Ida says my opinion is fair, and we spend some time discussing it, but I’m not really listening. I’m focussed on the way my body feels, the way the blood is coursing through me, the slight weakness in my legs from the adrenaline of speaking out for the first time in front of the class and taking Dean’s work down all in one fell-swoop. 

I never prepared for what would happen when we got to my sketchbook however, and as soon as Ida starts leafing through its soggy pages I find myself stricken with anxiety. I keep my eyes on Dean the whole time as the class discusses my work, waiting for him to come up with something, watching the gears in his head turn, formulating whatever unhelpful, unconstructive comment he’s about to spew. 

He finally opens his annoying little mouth. “Nice, as usual, but needs more refinement in the hands. Would have liked to have seen more detail.”

Doesn’t he know how hard hands are? I make a scoffing sound, out loud, and then immediately burn up with embarrassment as a few faces turn to stare at me. Dean is looking too, a questioning look on his face as though he doesn’t quite get my indignation. If Ida hears, however, she ignores it and starts telling me about how to draw hands in a more considered way, which I only half listen to, because I can’t keep my eyes from flitting back and forth between the sketchbook and Dean. I loathe him. I decide. He must be the most irritating man alive. 

During the afternoon in the computer lab I listen intently to our lecturer guiding us through the steps of creating an image from scratch in Photoshop, when I hear the sound of computer chair wheels glide towards me across the floor. I assume it’s Marnie, coming to start some conversation that’s not even loosely connected to the classwork, so I prepare to shrug her off immediately. All these menus have me confused enough, I don’t need to add some post she read on Tumblr to my mental load. 

“Can it wait until after?” I whisper tightly with eyes glued to the screen. Where the hell is the Modify menu? 

“Eh, not really.” Comes the response, and I’m immediately thrown by the male voice. My hand practically spasms off the mouse and I whirl around to face Dean, altogether too much into my personal space, slumped back in his chair and idly spinning himself from side to side. 

“Oh.” I say, then pause, unsure what to say. “Did you want something?”

“I’m lost.” He admits. “I’m not that great with, like, the tech stuff. I saw that you kind of looked like you knew what you were doing so I was hoping I could take the computer beside you and look in on your screen.”

“Well I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“It seems like you know more than I do.” He wheels into the empty desk beside me and boots up the computer. I stare at him the whole time in bewilderment. Doesn’t he realise that we hate each other? Or is he just messing with me? 

I turn back to my screen and try to ignore him, but the lecturer is already talking about something else. Now I have to find the expand button. God damn it, where’s the expand button? What the hell does that do? The way that Dean clicks and clacks on his keyboard is about ten times louder than the way any normal person does it. And he sniffs really loudly. And his giant stretched out jumper smells like cigarettes and the inside of a charity shop. 

He leans over to me. “Where’s modify?”

“I don’t know.” I hiss. “I was trying to find it when you interrupted me.” 

He goes back to clicking for a few minutes, and when he nudges me gently with his elbow, I’m forced to look at him. He looks like a TV villain. No good hearted men have faces like that, or hair bleached that horrendous shade of Slim Shady blonde. He looks like he should be riding around town with his car windows down and his middle fingers up. “It’s in the select menu.” He advises. “You go Select > Modify > Expand.” 

“Thanks” I say, begrudgingly following his directions, which are tragically correct, and go back to following the lecturers demonstration, but it isn’t long before Dean starts talking again. 

“I like your drawing.” He whispers, nodding towards my digital line work of a girl floating in space with Saturn for a head, and his compliment makes my heckles rise. “Oh, do you actually?” I whisper back accusingly, which seems to take him aback. 

“Eh… Yes?” 

“Hm. Alright.”

“Why? Do you think it’s shit or something?”

“No, I’m just surprised you don’t have anything smart to say about it.” 

“I can say it’s shit if you want.”

“You might as well, sure you always say that about my other work.”

There is a long pause, where I can see from the corner of my eye that he’s turned to stare at me, but can’t bear to meet his gaze. I go on clicking around through all the menus so that I can look unbothered, and it seems like an age before he decides to speak again. “I think you must be talking about the life drawing critique sessions.” He leaves that statement hanging in the air as if he expects me to respond to it, but I just ignore him and drag my mouse through the colour wheel, trying to decide what shade of navy blue I should make the sky. I shouldn’t have to say anything. It’s obvious. 

He sighs. “You know it’s just critique, it’s not as if it’s a personal attack on you.”

“It’s more than a critique.” I bite back. “It’s rude. The way you talk about my work is rude, that’s just what I think and how it comes across to me.”

“Would you prefer if I said it was perfect?”

I turn to him to launch into a response, but the lecturer beats me to it. “Dean and Evelyn at the back there, please, if you want to continue your conversation can you please do it outside the classroom?” 

I snap my mouth shut and spin back around to my monitor. If I still had long hair, I would have flipped it over my shoulder right about now. He can rot. 

Prev // Next

[ninetyminutes]

Hiya :) can you do a fic where chevy and Lorne get egnaged/married? I'm afraid i've become a simp for these two

So while I won’t give you a full blown fic (I have too many WIPs atm), I will happily and gladly give you one of my usual rambles :)

Side note, Rosie and Lorne would have to get divorced, but maybe they did when Lorne started to realize he was serious about Chevy. Rosie was of course happy for him. When Rosie and Lorne got engaged/married, Rosie didn’t want a ring. They did nothing the traditional way, and I think Lorne kinda felt like he missed out maybe just a little bit. Even if their marriage didn’t really last/was more platonic than romantic, I can still see Lorne secretly yearning just a teeny tiny little bit for some of those special moments.

So Chevy definitely gets him a ring and proposes in a super meaningful way. Not in public, somewhere where it’s just the two of them. Chevy would have loved to work it into a sketch, like a cold open where he falls and ends up on one knee in front of Lorne, but Lorne would prob be mortified and also completely off kilter for the entire rest of the show.

Maybe Chevy and Lorne are on one of Lorne’s weekly three-hour Sunday walks around New York City when he proposes. Maybe he proposes at night outside of 30 Rock or up on the Top of the Rock when no one else is around. I actually love the idea of them on the roof when Chevy proposes, like maybe they snuck up there to share a joint or something and Chevy just spontaneously decides to propose because when is it ever going to get better than this moment.

(more below)

Lorne wears the ring to work but says absolutely nothing about it to anyone. He’s always worn a ring on his ring finger on his right hand, but this ring is on his left hand, so maybe that’ll throw them off and they won’t notice. Rosie notices immediately—Drags him to his office and demands to know everything. Where and when and how, I mean every little thing. Gilda notices too, pretty quick. And I feel like John would also be one of the first to notice. He’d be like “Congrats.” And that’s it. Or maybe he wouldn’t even say anything, just look at the ring and then back at Lorne with a raised eyebrow. Lorne doesn’t say anything and waits for John to say something, who prob just pats him on the back and walks away.

In terms of the wedding? I’d think it’s something small but also not small at all. I’m just thinking of everyone Lorne is friends with and that list is long and also very high profile. However, it’d be super private. Obviously it’s held during the offseason. I think they would prob plan it over one off season and then hold it during the next off season because there’s no way they could plan it during season. I think honestly they’d be fine without having a traditional ceremony. ceremony at all but I can totally see Rosie being insistent on them having something small. Maybe they

There’s a few different bands that play throughout the night, maybe John and Danny play some Blues Brothers or something idk.

What if John gives a speech, which is surprising considering he doesn’t get along the best with Chevy and it’s hit or miss with Lorne sometimes. And it’s surprisingly sentimental and nice and it def gets them emotional like wtf John. Rosie definitely delivers the biggest laugh, talking about Lorne calling her to talk about Chevy all the time while she wasn’t still in LA or Toronto or wherever.

Anyway, it’s an open bar so everyone gets absolutely hammered, and maybe some of the cast joke about having to have another ceremony since so many of them don’t remember a lot of it.

[glitter-lisp]

Au game but I’m making you au your fandom into mine — give me a tangled dragon rider au (doesn’t have to Napoleonic wars related bc I’m a nice person)

jaylia this is so funny because literally in the last chapter of multiverse i sent them to a dragon rider world specifically with you in mind omg okay so this is less of a 5 fun facts and more of 1 setting and 4 character sketches ok SO

think typical high fantasy there are Kingdoms and the the Kingdoms have Magic and also some of the Kingdoms have Dragons and and the Dragons have Dragonriders and when a newborn Dragon picks a human to be their Dragonrider they are shipped off to a multination Dragon School Up In The Mountains To Learn How To Do It also worth noting for this world im stealing the eragon thing that dragons can choose their riders from inside the egg so if you touch a dragon egg sometimes that bitch will hatch on the spot for you and oops now you gotta deal with that. so anyways our cast of character in the ya novel i am dubbing the dragon thief:

hugo. the eponymous dragon thief. part of a thieves guild, stole a dragon egg in transport to sell to the highest bidder because that shit is EXPENSIVE if the sale went through he'd be set for life, except oh holy shit what the fuck it fucking HATCHED, and since dragon bonds are considered sacred across all nations (dragons are too Wise to choose random shitheels obviously) he's immediately pardoned of all crimes and shipped off to dragon school with his hatchling, but being pardoned of your crimes doesn't mean your fellow trainees have forgotten them and everyone at the school knows you once tried to kidnap and sell the baby dragon that is now bonded to you for life, and they treat you accordingly

nuru, a young princess who's descended from a long line of both nobility and dragonriders, but always like, yknow. the eldest daughters. the only-kind-of-joking family motto is "first on the throne, second in the saddle" and nuru is the fourth child so the best she could hope for was a decent dowry and a husband who let her keep studying astronomy, but then at her family's hatching ceremony the hatchling stumbled out of its egg and trotted right past all of nurus sisters and into her arms, so now her family is furious even though she really, really, really didn't mean to buck tradition and steal her sister's dragon, and all of her sister's friends who expected her there after the egg hatched are instead stuck with her pesky baby sister instead

yong. tiny baby child whose parents are trainers at the school, and was therefore raised on the property, and was therefore raised as much by dragons as people. is accidentally EXTREMELY magical by virtue of growing up around so much magical energy. his parents keep him the fuck away from any eggs because of that, for fear of him accidentally pulling an unhatched dragon into a bond because of his power instead of the dragon actually wanting to bond with him as a person. yong somehow manages to find, befriend, and bond with a young wild dragon ("young" by dragon standards at least) instead, leaving him half a decade younger than his mostly teenage and young adult classmates, and his dragon close to a century older than their hatchlings

varian. the first dragonrider trainee from his kingdom invited to study at the school. At least, the first in close to 30 years, since his uncle the king and his dragon were both defeated in battle a few years ago after waging war on the rest of the world for a quarter of a century. edmund is gone and his son eugene, varians older cousin, is doing what he can to fix the wreck of his own kingdom, make amends with their neighboring kingdoms, and restart the dragonrider corps in the dark kingdom, since edmund demanded all other dragons and riders be banished a few decades ago. varian never had anything to do with the war, never fought in it and barely knew his uncle or his dragon, but that doesn't stop people from treating him and his dragon like they're also going to go insane and start murdering people any second

soooooo yeah that's all i got band of misfits at magic school sticking together because everyone else hates them so they might as well

[lovelyinspiration1463]

Loki S2 E3 Spoilers Ahead!

My thoughts while watching the episode for the first time:

Is that him as a kid?

I considered for a hot second that Loki might be that horse.

There is never a moment too dire for Mobius to grab a snack, and I relate to that on a deep and personal level.

Boy, Marvel will do anything to plaster their name on screen as much as possible.

*science mumbo jumbo*

I think this variant has gotten himself electrocuted one too many times. 

I wouldn’t be standing right in front of that, my dude.

Well, yeah, now he’s giving off more ‘take over the world’ vibes. Proper Frankenstein over here.

Prototype? Yeah, no kidding. That thing let off a few bright sparks and then just died.

Mustache guy looked so scandalized, I can’t  😭😭😭

“Hornswoggler”? That is my new favorite word.

Is that an offer or a threat? Sounds more like a threat.

Where can I get myself a guy who will pass out money at the snap of my fingers???

I know it’s loud in there, but is no one else hearing the talking purse?

Nice cover, Mobius.

Oop. Old hornswoggler is back and wants a refund. I’m shocked. The machine looked so impressive just… fizzling the way that it did.

This has very quickly become a Charlie Chaplin sketch.

Okay, first of all, Mullet Hair, can you chill??? Killing the same dude over and over and over again is not gonna secure free will for people! Can we discuss? For even just a millisecond?! Are we able to think through our actions?

He ruined your life? Listen here, Sylvie; while you’ve been living it up at McDonalds, the universe has been falling apart! Think outside yourself for two seconds!

His face! 💀💀💀

Are these two seriously having a moment? Cease and desist immediately.

“A long time ago-“ in a galaxy far, far away. No, wait; wrong franchise.

That’s your biggest takeaway? Seriously?

“Rat bags”? Mustache Man is just full of zingers!

Did Loki literally just run in a circle??

Ooh, Miss Minutes is a bit snappy. She really wants everyone to know how clever she is.

Oh my gosh, they are not cramming another slapdash love story into the show 😫 I do not care about this! I came here to see Loki! Every second he’s not on screen, a little part of me dies…

Miss Minutes in the background: 😞

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

I have a feeling Renslayer is suddenly gonna be much more amenable to joining Loki and Mobius now.

All those mannequins are so creepy. 

A Rolodex? That’s his life’s work?

Okay… this just got weird on so many levels. 

OKAY THIS JUST GOT SUPER WEIRD! 🚩‼️🚨 IF SHE POSSESSES ONE OF THOSE MANNEQUINS I AM SO OUTTA HERE

🎶 People always told me, be careful of what you do, don't go around breaking young girls' hearts. And mother always told me, be careful of who you love.  And be careful of what you do, ‘cause the lie becomes the truth - hey hey!🎶

Dude, how did she even get here?

*dramatic entrance at the perfect time*

Mobius, look at her! I don’t think Ravonna is in the best headspace rn.

How many people are gonna barge in here??? Does he have any security at all? Even a single lock?

Also, are we really doing this again? This episode is bloated with will they/won’t they moments. It’s a “won’t” from me. I’ve decided.

The hair! 😍💯

So is Loki just gonna lie there and watch, or…?

So everyone gets free will but him? How do you know he won’t make better choices? He can’t be the one singular person in all of existence that is fated to be something specific!

Okay now I’m starting to feel a little bad for him.

“I can make my own choices.” That’s what I’m saying!

Who put Sylvie in charge? I’m sorry, but last time I checked, Loki doesn’t answer to you!

Seriously? You’re just abandoning her there??? Murder was a bad thing two seconds ago and now you’re both chill about it?

Aww, poor Sylvie. She really is the greatest victim in all this. How dare she be forced to decide to obsess over something 🙄

Yeah, I’m not sure sticking the two of them together is a good idea. I mean technically he’s dead, but what has that ever meant in the MCU?

Oooh, never mind - he’s dead dead. …Well, even so. Loki’s come back from worse.

Can any of these characters just pick a side?! Stop betraying each other so often; I can’t keep up! Who’s working with who???

[gaykarstaagforever]

Considering it has been in the public domain since 1962 (and for longer in the US), anyone and everyone can publish an edition of the Dracula novel. And since everyone is already familiar with it, you really don't have to worry about marketing it.

But also, like...there are HUNDREDS of editions of this book out there. Why would someone buy yours over another one? And also, vampires are cool.

All this taken together leads us to the amazing variation of covers for this book over the last 127 years.

(Some of these may be for strictly digital editions, or fanart. People who upload to Pinterest are garbage at providing accurate descriptions. But they're all going for the same cover-art vibe, so I've included them.)

(Also I tried to avoid comic book / children's illustrated adaptations, only because those aren't literally the same Stoker novel. ...But some of those are fun, so get bent, me.)

This will be more than one post. There are a lot of these. I'll cross-link them when I'm done.

The original 1897 edition, and still probably the best. LOOK at this. Blood red, narrow, imposing font on sickening yellow, the leg of the R dropping below the line as an ominous red fang, pointing to Stoker's name. Golden Age of novels, indeed. Just goddamn perfect. This is going to be hard to top, right out the gate.

Valiant effort. Just the original with roasted edges, with a stock photo of Castle Bran and a giant full moon draped over it. This castle + moon thing comes up a lot.

Also I have no idea what this sequel by "Dacre Stoker" is the hell about. This book is public domain so anyone can publish whatever fanfic / sequels they want about it.

...Dacre Stoker is apparently legit Bram's great-grandnephew, and is a gym teacher from Quebec who used to be an Olympic athlete and coach. Now he just writes or co-writes Dracula books. Good on him, I suppose.

Obviously an edition post the Coppola movie, what with the castle that is very nearly the one from the movie, and the field of impaled people at sunset. It's fine for what it's going for, I guess.

This is the one from the hardback edition I have, in that this is on the dust jacket I threw out because fuck those things. The actual book is black with a simple red title font.

I don't know what the legal status is of whoever using this Boris Vallejo painting for this. I assume they paid to use it. Especially since they edited the expected half-naked lady out of the original:

I love Vallejo, but using a desaturated, censored version of this kick-ass painting? Either use the original and rock the vibe, or fuck off. Lame.

...Blue? Crude sketch of a random castle? White font? I mean I know the text is free so you want to keep production costs low, but this is just lazy crap.

Nice 1960s theater poster vibe with this one. Good work.

When I think Dracula, I don't think "2010s gritty emo reboot of Red Riding Hood." Don't know why anyone would. But I'm sure the original emo / goth PC wallpaper you stole from 2006 made someone's Evangelical coworker slightly annoyed.

Simple, artful, story-relevant. Font is going a bit too hard with the Steampunk signage thing, but it's inoffensive.

This is...a choice. I mean, this IS a scene from the book, and the art is okay. Just a weird choice for the cover, especially with the obviously lazy lasso tool selection and cropping. This doesn't really represent the overall tone of the novel, which is not about old men being irritated. I guess it is certainly distinctive...?

[madsworld15]

Part 5 of still unnamed Asexual Spectrum AU (QAF)

The next day, Justin wore his best pair of jeans and a light blue button-down with his dark navy cable knit over it. This sweater was one of the few things he had left from his parents. It was Brooks Brothers. The only reason he knew that was because his mother made sure he knew it when she gifted it to him for Christmas his senior year. Justin knew the sweater probably made him seem pretentious, considering the event, but it was the only nice sweater he currently owned, and he wanted to look his best.

Justin had no expectations of selling any of his art. None of it was particularly spectacular or even meaningful to anyone outside of himself. Except maybe the one of Brian, but Lindsay was the only one who truly cared about it, and she wasn’t able to afford the price tag. She had told him as much yesterday when he had returned to the center with Emmett. Justin had already decided that if it didn’t sell today, he would gift the drawing to her. If anyone deserved to have it, it was her.

He was nervously standing in front of his section of the exhibit when he looked up and saw his mother enter the center. He hadn’t seen her in months. Not since the day his father handed him $2000 and told him that if he insisted on continuing with his disgusting lifestyle, he could leave. So, Justin had packed up a few of his things and left. That day, his mother hugged him and told him she loved him and that she would talk to his father. Nothing came of that, and so Justin and Mrs. Taylor hadn’t spoken since August. Five months of complete silence from the one person Justin had thought he could always count on.

“Mom?!” Justin accepted her hug, shock still evident on his face.

“Oh, my sweet boy!” His mother’s lavender scent permeated every cell in Justin’s body as they continued to embrace. “Daphne told me your art was going to be featured. I had to come and see.”

“Why haven’t you called me back? I tried calling you a couple times these last few months.” Justin asked, vulnerably barely above a whisper.

“Justin.” His mom’s voice held so much unsaid emotion, and he knew the response that was coming. “Your dad. He is adamant about his decision.”

“Then what are you doing here? How’d you explain it to him?” Justin steeled himself against the tears that threatened to fall.

“He’s in Aspen for the weekend. He says it's for work, but I know it’s not.” She looked away from Justin and toward the art on the wall behind him. “Oh, Justin! This is beautiful.” 

She stood before the sketch he had made of Molly at her dance recital. There was a sadness to her that Justin had never seen before. His mom had always been strong, stoic, and proud. But the woman before him was fragile and cracked. He knew that he was to blame for that. If he’d just stayed in the closet, his father wouldn’t have made her choose between her husband and her son.

“Yeah, I drew this right after her recital back in July. The last thing we did together as a family.” Justin stepped forward and silently forgave his mom for the sacrifices she had to make. “I miss her.”

“She misses you too.” Mrs. Taylor turned to her son and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “She asks me at least once a week when your father is going to let you come home.”

“I’m sorry. I caused everyone so much pain. That was never my intention.” Justin started to apologize but stopped when his mom moved her hand to his chest.

“We’re getting a divorce.” 

“What?” Justin shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of the news. “I can’t let you leave him because I messed up.”

“Oh, honey. I’m not leaving him because you messed up. He did. Your father was wrong to cut you off from us completely. I’m just sorry it took me this long to see it.” His mom pulled him into another hug. Justin could feel the tears escape before he had the chance to swipe them away.

They were still hugging when Brian walked over. Justin wasn’t even aware that he’d even come. But there he was in all his glory. It was the first time they were face to face since the night they kissed, right before Christmas. And here he was, crying. Justin pulled out of his mom’s embrace and quickly wiped his cheeks to divulge them of any tear tracks. 

He cleared his throat, “H-hello, Brian. Shocked to see you here.”

Brian gave his signature smirk and tucked his tongue into his cheek before he responded. “I heard that a local artist had drawn the likes of me. So, naturally, I had to come check it out.”

“Of course.” Justin tucked his lips between his teeth and softly chuckled.

Mrs. Taylor cleared her throat and gave Justin a pointed look. He took a deep breath in and then exhaled before he turned to Brian.

“Mom, this is Brian. Brian, this is my mom.”

“How do you know my son?” Justin’s mom asked as Brian shook her hand.

“He works at the diner. We all eat there from time to time. You get to know one another. It’s a small community.” He gave her his most charming smile, but when he looked over her shoulder to Justin, his look changed. There was something charged about the way his gaze bore into Justin’s eyes.

“Yeah. Brian works for a local ad agency. His best friend’s mom is my boss.” Justin let out the breath he’d been holding and added a bit more context.

“Like I said, small community,” Brian whispered and then ducked his head.

“So, Justin. Tell me about these other pieces.” Justin turned his attention away from Brian, who was now studying the sketch of himself, and back to his mom.

“This one here is called The Graveyard Shift. It’s of the diner where I work. My boss typically picks up that shift because no one else wants it. That’s here, there.” Justin pointed to the drawing positioned to the right of the one of Molly. 

“I had no idea you were working at a diner.” Mrs. Taylor whispered, her tone dripping with awe for the talent her son displayed in his art. “I figured you had to be working somewhere. I just never expected it to be a diner.”

“I needed to join the gay community here. For myself.” Justin took his mom’s hands in his and looked her in the eyes, begging her to understand.

“Of course.” Mrs. Taylor removed her hands from Justin’s only to wrap one of her arms around his shoulder and took in the next two drawings, his still lifes. “I’m so proud of you.”

Justin just smiled and didn’t say a word. Brian was still standing there staring at the drawing of himself and Gus, but Justin didn’t care if the man heard every word. It was important to him that his mom had shown up. At first, he was ready to murder Daphne, but now that they’d had a chance to talk, Justin could see she loved him. There was still so much they needed to talk through and work out if she ever wanted to be as big a part of Justin’s life as she used to be, but her showing up today was huge. She knew it, Justin knew it, and from the subtle smile on Brian’s face, he knew it as well.

“Justin!” He was pulled out of his thoughts by the breathless exclamation of his mom, who had just reached the drawing of Brian. Justin smiled to himself, knowing that she loved it as much as he did.

“I drew that a few weeks ago, right before Christmas.” Justin tried to nonchalantly shrug it off as no big deal. 

But then Brian did something unexpected. He wrapped himself around Justin from behind and muttered against his ear, but loud enough that Justin’s mom could hear, “You got every detail correct. All the way down to the expression on Gus’ face when he eats.”

“Is this you?” Mrs. Taylor addressed Brian. 

He didn’t let go of Justin, but his face pulled back a bit in order to respond. “Your son drew me and my son.”

“This truly is a work of art.” Mrs. Taylor turned back to stare at the drawing once more. 

Brian pulled Justin away from his mom and over to a corner of the room where barely anyone else stood. Justin wasn’t sure what Brian’s intentions were, and Justin didn’t know if he’d be able to stop him if the older man decided to kiss him again, especially not with what Brian was wearing. The man was dressed in a form-fitting black sweater and a pair of nice but tight slacks.

“Why do you look as though you are going to shit yourself?” Brian finally asked once they were alone. “I’ve been watching you since I arrived, and you’ve only become more distressed the more time passes.”

“What?” Justin was expecting any number of things to come out of Brian’s mouth, but concern for him was not one of them.

“Did I use any particularly hard-to-understand words?” Brian teased.

“You’ve been watching me?” Justin’s voice came out in a squeak.

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “When you say it like that, I sound insane.”

“Well, I’m not the one watching people.”

“No, you’re just the one crying and looking distressed. Is it your mom?” Brian put a hand on Justin’s shoulder and looked him over critically. “Because I know how to handle crappy moms.”

“My mom is fine. We just…” Justin sighed, his throat closing up and tears forming in his eyes once more. “FUCK.”

Brian didn’t say anything or remove his hand from Justin’s shoulder. He just let the blonde process whatever emotions he needed to process in order to get the words out. Justin was grateful for that.

“In August, my dad kicked me out of the house with nothing but a small bag of clothes and things and a couple grand in cash. My mom tried to stop him, but he told her she had to choose.” Justin licked his lips, “She chose him. Until now. Now, she said she’s divorcing him and that she’s sorry.”

“Do you believe her?” Brian’s voice was calm, quiet, and gentle. Something Justin was still getting used to hearing from him.

“I want to.” The ‘but’ Justin wants to say remains unsaid.

“But her initial reaction and choice hurt you.” Brian finished his thought correctly.

“Yeah.”

Brian moved his hand to cup Justin’s cheek. He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Justin’s lips. “You have to do what brings you happiness. Who cares what anyone else thinks.” 

Their foreheads connected as Justin closed his eyes and tried to get his racing heart under control.

“I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I should be running away, but all I want to do is get closer to you.”

Justin took a few deep breaths before he responded. “And I meant what I said. I may never want sex.”

Justin pulled away from Brian entirely and headed over to chat with Debbie and Lindsay, who were by the drink station. He needed to clear his head. Being around Brian was never good for the logical side of his brain, which he needed for this event. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” Debbie greeted him with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s a very nice lady.”

“Yeah. She’s pretty great.” Justin shrugged his shoulders; he couldn’t hide anything from Debbie, so he decided that he didn’t even want to try.

“Justin,” Just then, his mom was there. Before he turned around to face her, Justin plastered a fake smile on his face. 

“I have to go pick up Molly from a playdate, but I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. Your art means something.” She wrapped him in a hug.

“Thanks, Mom,” Justin replied, letting her hug him tightly. He never wanted the safety and security he felt in her arms to go away, but as soon as they pulled apart, it did. To be replaced by the uncertainty her presence now brought.

After she was gone, Justin turned back to Debbie and Lindsay, who stood there in sympathetic silence. Then, he was wrapped up in Debbie’s arms once more. This time when the tears fell from his eyes, he let them.

“She came. That’s a big deal. Forget that she hasn’t spoken to you in months. She was here today, of all days, to support you. Remember that. She loves you.” Debbie whispered sagely.

Justin spent the next hour walking around and mingling with the other artists on display. He learned that the GLC offered free art courses in a studio from time to time, but that for more advanced artists, the time in class was better spent working on something else. Justin made a note to look into attending these free courses once school was on break for the summer. He had almost managed to make it through the rest of the show without another interaction with Brian when the man cornered him. 

It was ten minutes to the end, and Justin was back to standing near his art. Brian sidled up next to him with his signature mischievous smile on his lips.

“You know, I heard a tired old queen telling his friend that your art lacks a certain sex appeal.” Brian gently nudged Justin’s shoulder with his own.

“Did you now.” Justin smiled. The two stood side-by-side, not even making eye contact.

“Yes, but clearly, they hadn’t seen the drawing of me because I ooze sex appeal. Even in charcoal.”

Justin shook his head and laughed. “Never lose your self-entitlement.”

“Are you finally admitting you find me charming?” 

Justin didn’t respond. He didn’t have to because a moment later, Brian continued.

“Never lose your artistic eye. You see the world differently than most people. You always manage to find the nugget of goodness inside everyone.”

“It’s something that could get you any job you want once you graduate. Even in the art department at Ryder.” Brian finished, and then he was gone. 

Later, when Justin was taking down his art display, he was informed that someone bought his drawings of Molly and Brian. He couldn’t be sure who bought the one of Molly, but he’d bet big money that Brian was now the proud owner of his sketch of him and Gus.

[outeremissary]

9 People You Want to Know Better

Tagged by @arendaes, thanks :)

Three Ships

I feel like I always list the same stuff on this section, haha. Same time, I can't really seem to think of anything better right now when I'm trying. Maybe it's just my energy tonight. Uh, I can just list what I consider my main pairs in the last three games with romances I've played...? I guess?

Balthazar + Tristian. Or also with Vio. Doodling them a lot lately... I miss them.

Carmen + Arushalae. There's a Galfrey situation that intersects with this as well but I think living with someone goes a long way towards winning a love triangle. Whatever the hell winning means here. Tbh everyone loses

Asperia/Kasander + unfortunately, that archduke I really do want dead for real. Once wasn't enough.

Last Song

Catch Me If You Can - Jhariah (Spotify). Someone I drew something for on Art Fight had this listed as a character theme, so I've been looping it a lot... it's really good. I really should listen to more of Jhariah's music.

Last Movie

Hm. I.... don't know? I haven't been watching a lot of movies. I wanted to see I Saw the TV Glow, but before I knew it had left theaters. I'd like to watch movies again, I think.

Currently Reading

When I remember that I should be reading, Wuthering Heights. I've actually never read it before. I got bored halfway through Jane Eyre when I was 13 and lost all interest in gothic romances after that. ^^;;

Currently Watching

Akuma-kun! The 2023 one on Netflix. It's the show my friend and I are watching together right now. He insisted I had to watch it because it had an evil angel... we saw the angel today!! I'm happy. Homoerotic, fourteen year old fujoshi Emi would have totally lost it for this.

Currently Eating

Nothing. Getting hungry again though.

Currently Craving

I dunno... something fried? In the abstract, a little more self assurance.

Favorite Color

Blue. Deep blue. I've always been fond of the Copenhagen blue that I've used for Caina's scarf and one of Balthazar's coats, and the indigo I do a lot of my lines with.

Favorite Flavor

Chocolate.

Current Obsession

Anxiously checking the Art Fight website tbh. It's not good for me. I just keep getting worried that I've somehow made art that someone really hates of their character, or that I'm putting a lot into projects that no one will ever see. Haha.

Last Thing I Googled

.... well, now that we're at this point in this, it's Copenhagen blue. Because I wanted to check if it was a real name ^^;;

Favorite Season

Fall. It's got the best temperatures and most consistent weather. I like when the leaves change as well. The dry leaves on the ground are really comforting.... they make good sounds and are nice to lay in.

Skill I'd Like to Learn

Painting. Watercolors, ideally. Or digital art.

Best Advice

Jeez, I don't know a lot of life advice. I guess the best art advice I know is "draw whatever makes you want to keep drawing." Recently an artist I really respect also said something like "when you're starting out, just go ahead and copy whatever you like. Don't trace because you'll learn slower, but if there's something you like, try your best to imitate it." I think that can be good advice too. I guess my personal advice is also "Just do it however you know you can get it done." I used to get really hung up on doing things the "right" way in order to finish them, and because it took so long and I felt so pressured on the later steps I never finished anything. I hardly ever got to what I considered the halfway mark then. It didn't make me feel good about what I was doing. So I started doing things messier and more haphazard, whatever would get to the end I wanted to reach fastest. And I think I grew a lot more like that. I definitely drew a lot more art I was proud of and happy to show other people. I guess that also loops around to advice I've heard somewhere else though ^^;; Just to do the parts of the process that you want to finish. Your sketch can be your final lines if you hate doing line art, who cares. You can learn a way to do it like that.

We've hit the limit of how many times I can tag people on posts in a day without feeling very anxious unfortunately, so if anyone wants to be my guest etc. but I don't have it in me right now ^^;;

[flightlesscupid09]

1-50

1. What opportunity for love or money have you given up? Do you regret it now?

Money? Yeah I had a multitude of chances to go on the road or to an oil rig and make MASSIVE money. Do I regret it? Only a little, to have had the big of a financial headstart would have been nice, but then who's to say we would've been where we were that led us to this mountain of money we have now? So only partially.

2. Would you rather watch a movie at home or at the movie theater?

Movie theater. We have a nice sound system and a 75" TV, but the massive screen and heart rumbling sound of a movie theater can't be beat. Mix that with their popcorn and soda and 😘🤌 perfect.

3. What do the first 30 mins of your typical day look like?

Fighting to wake up lol. But if it's referring to after that? Getting a cup of coffee if I feel like it and then getting started on either work, or the business.

4. When was the last time you cried and why?

When Robert came home and was crushed that he only got 2 Valentine's. I knew the day would come and it came all too soon.

5. What would your rap name be?

2Serious, ironically because I'm never serious.

6. If you could know when and how you are going to die, would you want to know?

When, yes. How, it doesn't matter. To know what kind of timescale I'm on would be great. It's easy to say "Life like it's your last day." but you don't really get that feeling unless you know.

7. How did you meet your best friend?

I met her on MySpace when her sister left her account up. 😉

8. Would you rather die before your partner or after?

After, I know it's going to be hard, and I mean HARD for either of us. I don't want you to have to go through that.

9. What activity do you enjoy so much that it makes you lose track of time?

Video games and sex.

10. When you die, what do you want to be remembered for?

Making life easier for at least one person. I know that's small, but it's also big. I know I've already done that for a lot of people with the business I have, but, I still strive for more.

11. What celebrity do you shamelessly follow in the news?

None. I don't care about celebrities. They're just people doing a different job than me.

12. If you could do anything in the next year, what would it be?

Be president, but you have to be 35 for that. I have 6 years to keep moving up. I'll get there and it would be cool if I was the youngest ever. I would be in history forever.

13. What's the wildest party you've ever been to?

Probably my first one. People got lost in the woods and everyone was blackout drunk. Absolutely insane.

14. What would you rather; never read another book or never watch another movie?

Considering I only read online science and political articles, not another book. 🤷

15. What's your love language?

Touch by a long shot. I have noticed that you telling me you love or miss me first makes me feel good though.

16. What stereotype do you completely live up to?

The stereotype that all men want multiple women. I feel it gets a bad rap when (as it should) when you're dishonest about it. But some people are just built different. Not you mention, I just think the female form is really a beautiful thing. I remember when I was younger I would sketch naked women because their form is flowing and beautiful. Anyways....

17. Which piece are you when you play Monopoly?

I don't know what they have now, but I was always the top hat or the cowboy.

18. If you could buy your dream house, what is one weird room or feature you would have?

One or the other. A full size movie theatre, or a tiny house. 🤷

19. What's something you did as a child that your parents still retail the story about?

Got the worst case of chicken pox the doctor has ever seen. (Under my eyelids and everything.) Thanks mom for not getting me the vaccine. 🙄

20. Would you rather save money, or save time?

While I'm young, money, when I'm older, time.

21. What is one tradition you would like to carry on in the future?

I like that on Christmas Eve we eat Chinese food because of what happened to my grandparents.

22. In what way do you feel your childhood was happier than other people's?

Though it was filled with a lot of messed up things that make most people gasp...my grandparents taking me when they could was incredible. I got to go with my grandmother to her Celiac meetings to pioneer the first recipes that helped some of the biggest companies around now. With my grandfather I got to go to the Moose Lodge and American Legion to plan events to make vets lives more enjoyable. He also brought me to his properties and showed me what compassion was when families couldn't pay.

23. What's the best hotel you've ever stayed in and why?

Honestly the one we all just did where it was as big as a 2 bedroom apartment. It was nice and cozy, the A/C and heat worked. Otherwise it would have been the one we stayed in that one time off of Groupon for 3 days for dirt cheap (only problem was the A/C didn't work and it was HOT).

24. If you could have any super power, what would you choose?

Mind reading. People are too reserved and don't really tell you how they're feeling most of the time. Plus if you could actually read voter's minds, you could better serve them.

25. What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you during a date?

Getting bit by the girl's friend. But that was more embarrassing for her (later in life). I've never really had anything embarrassing happen on a date.

26. Would you rather be gossiped about or never talked about at all?

Honestly I don't care either way. But that's not the sport of the game, so gossiped. That way people could still say true good things about me.

27. What's your favorite board game?

Honestly it was Monopoly, but I haven't played it in years since you don't like to play.

28. What's something you are self-conscious about?

Having the little bit of weight I do. Some days I look in the mirror and see what you and everyone else sees, a great looking guy. Other days I want to work out till my limbs fall off because I see a little bit that could be gone.

29. What's the last random thing that made you smile?

I honestly can't remember. It was something silly I told you that you even kind of laughed at. Just one of my random funny thoughts.

30. If you could change one thing about the way you were raised, what would you change?

That either one of my parents would have been there and cared. 🤷

31. What's your most powerful and vivid memory?

I don't know what "powerful" is supposed to mean, but when my grandfather took me on an impromptu trip to Miami. I saw my first gun, my first car accident (and it was a hit and run), and there was a pizza crust in the bottom of our hotel bed. Lmao what a time.

32. Would you rather date someone you met online or go to a blind date?

Blind date for sure. Seems mysterious and different. Never been on a blind date before, and seeing how life is, probably never will lol.

33. What one accomplishment are you most proud of?

That I've procured a life (picking a great partner, providing well) good enough that our kids have turned out as great as they have.

34. How do you get in the way of your own success?

Playing on my phone too much. Being on social media too much. I'm trying to curb that.

35. What's the last product you returned?

I don't actually know. I never really return products. I feel like it's probably some tool or something that didn't fit or whatnot.

36. If you could get away with a crime, what crime would you commit?

Non-violently robbing a bank(just not hurting people). To be like the movies, get away cars, driving through the drainage tunnels, etc. it would be neat.

37. Who was your first love and when?

I think it was Meagan Miles, and it would have been in 6th grade I think. I'm not sure. Depending if that timeline is correct it could be someone else. Who knows.

38. Would you rather have a cook or a maid?

Maid. Hands down. No contest. I even said that once we were rich we would have one lol. I clean out of necessity, I can't stand germs or dirtiness, but I don't like cleaning either.

I however love cooking from time to time, and like it all the other times.

39. What book has made the biggest impact on your life?

My AP Chemistry book.

40. What's the most surprising self-realization you've had?

I haven't ever had a surprising self-realization. I have had meaningful ones, nothing surprising though.

41. You're at a cafe, what type of drink do you order?

Some form of sweet tea or a soda if I'm feeling like it.

42. If you could create one holiday, what would you create?

Apology Day. People have too much pent up anger and frustration. If people apologized instead of being too proud things would go better. Sometimes all people need is a reason to apologize, so let's give them one.

43. What was your first car?

SAAB 9000

44. Would you rather hear the good news or the bad news first?

Bad news, I always try to end on a good note.

45. What activity or sport did you try as a kid and fail at?

I would say baseball...but my coach also showed up every practice and game absolutely plastered. So it could've been both of us failing haha.

46. What are some of your personal rules that you refuse to break?

No racism. 🙅

I won't let my house get gross, either over full with things or just dirty.

I'll try any food once.

I always try to listen to someone when they need to talk because you listening could be the difference for them.

47. What's your favorite quote?

Not quite sure off the top of my head. Maybe a cliche one, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

48. If you could solve one world problem, what would it be?

All dictators and corruption gone from government.

49. What's the first music you bought?

Hahaha this one is great. Have A Nice Day by Bon Jovi. I bought it because it had a smiley face for the album cover. Listened to it because I spent money on it. Now I know the songs any time they come on and people are surprised I know songs that are older than me haha.

50. Would you rather explore space, or the ocean?

Space by far. I am just thrilled with the thought of space and being out there in the cosmos.

Wow that took way longer than I expected. 🤷

[keefiswhoiam]

May 28 - 2024 Tuesday

10:23pm

5.5/10

This morning I took care of the dogs and showered like usual. I was a bit quicker than usual so that was nice. For breakfast I made Dinty Moore beef stew with some pasta in it. I actually got to take my time and eat it which I don't usually do. Then I had a cookie with my coffee and starting streaming.

I warmed up with a couple of Monster High doll studies and some normal human gestures. I only streamed for an hour since I had planned to move Sporticus's kennel into the fireplace and rearrange my bed. I mostly did commission sketches and worked on a YCH.

Afterwards I had to clean out the fireplace area which meant trying to scrub soot off the walls. Somehow I tore off the first layer of skin on the side of my finger which got tons of ash in it and then I decided I should be wearing gloves. I did improve the fireplace but it's still charred blank in some places in a way I cant just brush off. I got it clean enough to put her in there. Then I started putting all my bed stuff in the laundry to wash throughout the day.

I had planned a sort of meetup with TK a few days ago so we got in VRchat and hung out in this public Minecraft world the whole time. WX joined too. We talked about religion and kids and parents and a bunch of different stuff. I switched to desktop to make lunch while I hung out with everyone.

I started working in VRchat and did today's request which included mild gore, I kept it private. Then I tried working on this Opaline idea from fan idea requests and I barely made any progress like the last 3 weeks. Its getting very frustrating because I don't know why I cant get such a simple pose right. It didn't help I was mentally drained and had a headache. I decided to give up for the day.

I made the minor mistake of taking a tiny hit so I could take some time to enjoy myself. Or maybe it wasn't a mistake, I only consider it one because my loose rules tell me I shouldn't be smoking at all on weekdays. My self enjoyment time was okay but it started getting windy and thundering towards the end of it. It passed by quickly and then I started playing Roblox Toilet Tower Defense until DS was free.

She worked on her fursuit and I played Roblox for awhile. We watched a couple furry con vlogs and took a long look at old IKEA catalogues while reminiscing about furniture. She told me of a liminal place she remembers vividly relating to the IKEA play area from her childhood and I was very interesting in maybe turning it into a VRchat world with some cooperation. In bed we did our puzzles and I played a little Kerbal. It started thundering a lot after she went to sleep and I kept getting startled so I put on my earmuffs. While taking the dogs out, I stood atop the rock in the yard and was watching the lightning. It was very scary for me to do at first but I got used to it pretty quick. Then I started putting my bed together in it's new position but the blanket I use as my sheets had a big damp spot I missed so I have my fun blowing under it right now. It should be dry so I'm going to finish the job and go to bed.