#feels SO weird sharing such a scribbly scribble here

[asheanon]

I then decided in light of no longer trusting Xwitter with my art, Tumblr will be the new recipient of even the scribbliest scribbles!

For context: I mentioned wanting to scribble out a particular monster before returning to commissions this weekend... 🤔

- If he looks familiar, yes. (I'm sorry I turned him into a funky creature for parts of this AU.) - "Human size comparison" silhouette is another design of a very particular character. Yes, it's probably who you think it is. (I still need to explore her design in this AU. The outfit is a banger, in my mind.)

That's all for now! 🐌🎨

[motherforthefamicom]

okay fuck it actually heres a drawing from the other day

[jinxthequeergirl]

The ol Switcharoo (pt1.)

Stan x reader/ Ford x reader

Summary: you liked to assume you knew Stanford Pines better then most, but when you return to him after am extended trip you aren't sure you really do

Warning: NONE, she's looking as all hell and I apologize, it's mess I know but it's a start ok

Chat feel free to tell me is this is a dumb idea

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

You where a weird kid growing up.

A fact you wouldn't deny. Even as a child you knew you where diffrent and what intrested you was odd. You embraced it. You loved all things creepy and crawly. While most kids your age had posters of there favorite superheros or cartoon characters while your room was plastered with that of monsters and ghouls.

Things from Dracula all the way to the Mysterious Mothman decorated your room, they were the movies you had on repeat books you stuffed your nose in. You loved it all. As you got older, you loved them more, thrusting yourself into science to prove they could existed in the natural world that they DID!

The supernatural world was out there and you where going to explore it. Even as a kid you would be caught monster hunting always running headfirst into adventure no fears.

Your mother was supportive of your every decision regardless of if she believed it lead anywhere or not. She was more happy you where just passionate about something at all and was eager to send you to college.

That's what led you straight to Stanford Pines. The man you would proudly proclaim as your best friend. You'd met during one of your shared classes in college, quickly finding out you had almost similar interests and ideals, everything he had to say fascinated you. And he was more then happy to have someone so eager to find the supernatural with him.

Soon enough you where inseparable. (Y/n) and Standford there was no stopping the pair of you two through all of college whatever you two went through you went through together ups and downs everything was shared. Adding fiddleford to the mix and your trio was complete.

You where of course the first person he had asked to move into his house in gravity falls to further your research together.

"This place is incredible Fordsie I mean think of how much is actually out there!" You exclaimed gesturing to the untamed woods of Oregon from the roof of the house. Ford chuckled adding the finishing touches to a page in his second edition journal before offering it too you for your stamp of approval.

You gladly accepted the book. "And just think about everything else there is to come once we get the machine up and running!" You took a pen of your own and scribbled something in, nodding in agreement to his statment before sitting down beside him.

You took in a breath of fresh air and exhaled a sigh of relief. Ford copying your action. "To think I almost would have never made it this far." He said staring up at the darkening sky.

"Well let's not think like that fordsie, everything that almost stopped you from coming here got you here didn't it?" You said as if you where asking the stars that began to speckle the sky.

He looked over at you. "Everything happens for a reason sixer. Plus you got me out of it didn't you?" You joked nudging him with your elbow.

"That It did." He mused while watching you stare up at the sky with content. He gave a soft smile. Of all the great mysteries in the world, you became his favorite. It didn't matter how well he though he knew you you still surprised him every day.

That was in the spring.

Everything about your life with Ford felt new, exciting, and perfect. You felt like your bond was stronger then ever, over the summer and fall. The perfect balance of cool and calculates and a fearless risktaker. You filled in for eachother where the other lacked completing eachother perfectly. Making your adventures flow smoothly.

Ford found himself thinking like this about you more often, stealing long looks at you when he thought you weren't looking. Standing closer to you, the trash in his room became filled with crumpled ink work of your likeness.

You had enjoyed the sudden burst of closeness you two had shared over the months you'd been in Oregon together it certainly didn't go as unnoticed as he had hopped it did.

He was a smart man, that was the one fundamental truth about himself no one could deny. But he was utterly clueless when it came to his own feelings

"Oooohwe you got it baaAAD don't you Stanford?" His face flushed at fiddlefords sudden outburst of excitement. "What are you talking about!?" He asked in a sharp hushed tone quickly averting his gaze from you only a few feet away.

"Standford I have known you almost ad long as you and y/n have been friends and I'm no expert but I do think I recognize how you look at them has changed."

"I pfft.. I wouldn't...that's my bestfriend-" He fumbled for his words face flushed a deeper red then before as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Mcgucket! Fordsie! I'm head up to bed for the night! Don't stay up too late." You chimmed in with a yawn.

"Hahah! Yes very good y/n! Very good get good rest for not let the gnomes bite! Ahaha" Ford blurted. You laughed as you continued up the steps.

Fiddleford laughed once where had va ished from sight. "I'm just making an observation...I'm not saying you lay awake at night thinking about her. But your secretis safe with me." Ford let out a sigh of relief at fiddlefors reasuring words they wherent up much longer before both retiring to their rooms. Stanford proceeded to lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling.

"Oh no."

When the winter rolled around things began to change. All the good memories you had together seemed to suddenly get lost and where instead replaced with something bad.

You remember sitting next to fiddleford staring at your bestfriend fall asleep in the middle of the floor waiting for something to happen. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

You where the first tobask the question both of you had been thinking. "If this thing can offer Ford everything we need to know about starting up this portal...then I say the risk is worth it...right?"

You chewed on your inner cheek staring intently at the man on the floor.

Since the winter rolled around and Ford had met this mysterious "muse" You felt a sense of unease fall over the house, Ford had suddenly become distant always away with the being. "Are you jealous?" Fiddleford pipped up turning away from Ford.

"Jelous?" You chucked. "Of what? There's nothing to be jealous of! Or even a reason to be jealous! If Ford wants to abandon his friends for some interdemensinal being that he wont share much about or even introduce us then fine by me!" You huff out the words folding your arms over your chest.

Everything went downhill pretty fast or at least that's what your memory served, by the time you where ready for the first test of the portal all the way to fiddlefords accident with the machine your new exciting life unraveled before your eyes.

He wasn't functioning the way he used

"Fordsie...I think we need to take a break."

He was pacing infront of you rappedly tapping a pen against his temple. "We can't stop now! We are to close."

You frowned, he was different now no doubt this wasn't the same Ford you had be friened only a few years ago, this wasn't the same Ford you had grown to love. He was far more distant now, all the little things he thought went unnoticed by you completely stopped. He kept his distance now. He was losing sleep because of this now, if it wherent for you he wouldn't even be eating.

"Ford I'm serious! Fiddleford got hurt...I don't think it's a good idea to continue we need time to stop and clear our heads!"

"My head is clear y/n! With bill by my side I know we can-"

"STANFORD PINES."

Stan stopped in his tracks. It had been a while since you had referred to him like that. He turned to you watching you pinch the bridge of your nose. Since when did you look so tired? And where you...angry with him?

"Stanford our friend was hurt because of this , it's time to take a step back and to reevaluate before someone else gets hurt...we need to get out of this house...maybe out of gravity falls for a while."

Ford stared at you for a while and you stared back for some reason in only a few months it felt like the both of you where looking at strangers. You watched as the gears turned in Fords head before he spoke up.

"Your right."

You perked up at his words taken aback by them.

"I think it would be in our best intrest if we both went to see our families for some time."

Again you where surprised by the words that left his mouth. He'd never spoken to you about his family you had always assumed they wherent close. At the same time part of you hoped he'd want to vacation with you somewhere warm away from the snow. So place that would bring back the real Ford.

"OK, we can do that." You said offering a warm smile.

That night Ford helped you pack so you could catch the first bus out of gravity falls that morning, he promised he'd be leaving the next day.

It was quiet while he helped. He wasn't joking with you or excitedly retelling one of your adventures from the summer.

Your mind still kept wondering back to how this could be the same person. Maybe this was who Ford was all along and you where blinded by the thrill of adventure.

"Promise to write?" You asked

"I promise."

"I'll see you in a few weeks."

Still you knew things would be better when you both returned from a long over do break. You watched a bundled up Ford wave you goodbye from the snow as your bus pulled away and you sighed.

Ford frowned as he watched your bus drive into the distance. This was for the better right? He could see the worry and pain he had seemed to be causing you which was never his intention. He didn't want to lie to you just to get you away to take care of yourself but if that's what it took to do just that.

You eneded up returning when the snow had melted in gravity falls. You hadn't meant to be gone that long, your family had begged you to stay and your mother needed the help around the house, you had wrote Ford like you promised but it seemed like the mail was eating up your letters. Either way you had been well rested and eager to return to your friend and to work. You took a hopeful deep breath once your feet hit the gravity falls soil.

"StanFord!? Are you home yet!?" You shouted, pushing open the door to the house. You were met with silence.

"Fordsie!?" You stepped further in carefully. You noticed all of the science equipment and creatures you had collected over the past year or so had been moved and almost put on display. You heard a floorboard creek, and you stayed silent, pressing up again the wall by the door, ready to either surprise your friend or scare an enime.

The door swung open and a familiar face appeared yelling welding a baseball bat.

You screamed, falling back onto yours, butt. "FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME ITS Y/N!!!" You shouted, holding your hands up to shield yourself. He stopped yelling and lowered the bat. "Y/n?...."

"Yes, it's me. Please put the bat down!"

"What are you doing here?" He asked, placing the bat down and staring at you. "I live here with you, remember?"

The man seemed to stare at you like he was trying to figure out why he knew you. "Y/n! That's right!" He helped you up.

"I wasn't away for that long, was I fordsie?" You chuckled.

"Oh uh no no it's not that...uh come inside. we have some uh catching up to do.." You raised your eyebrow at him now, getting a better look at him. Something was off.

But you followed him to the kitchen, hoping your doubt and worry would wear off soon.

"Hey by the way...would you mind calling me stan from now on?"

[irndad]

She favorites recipes on Instagram. 

It’s a little embarrassing how Carmen knows- that when she’s at his place watching him sketch dishes she can’t taste, he’s also paying attention to what’s on her phone. And it’s usually kistchy things- dresses and outfits with legwarmers, pop-culture breakdowns he doesn’t have time to understand, and yes, occassionally, recipes. 

Carmen adores her company. It’s a private truth, one that they boht know and yet he can’t admit under her gaze. She’s a friend of Richie’s which is endlessly fucking confusing. Both because of how incredible she is, and because it is truly insane to imagine Richie with friends. 

Carmen supposes they’re friends too, now. It doesn’t feel quite right, the way she scribbles notes for him in the mornings and has slept over quite often. She’s busy, has her own life and her own career and he’s lucky for the time he spends with her. He doesn’t really have time to date her the way he’d like to, with dinner dates and late night drives down Lake Shore, watching the sunrise over the lake on mornings where time feels like no object. 

He’s clearly given this some thought. 

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter now. Now, she’s slept over. He’s got a full-size, which felt like a good enough excuse to share the bed, even though every time they do he still ends wrapped around her like a vice, like roots of a tree, raveled in a way that seems inpenetrable. 

She’s sipping on an energy drink- he’s offered her the coffee that he’s imported, and prepared with care, but she’d obviously thought it was too bitter. And now he keeps energy drinks in the house when she stays over. She’s popped in one of her wired earbuds, and the light washes over her like a halo. She’s got a bonafide glow while she sits on his counter, scrolling through recipes. 

“That looks good,” he hears himself say, a little outside of himself, as she stops scrolling. It’s a pasta dish, and she’s favorited it. It looks more complex than it is, really, but he’s not sure he’s a good source.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I had it once when I was in Paris. It was fucking insane, Carmen, it’s so good. I’m always looking for a place to get it. I don’t really think there’s a place in Chicago where you can get it, actually.”

“It was seasonal actually,” he says back, her eyes fixed to his now, “Ever used to make it every fall. Easier to source the pine nuts.”

She looks so, so fond of him that Carmen could entertain the idea of leaning over the counter and kissing her. It’s incredibly tempting, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, endeared by his knowledge. He feels guilty, how he plays with the pencil, knowing she’s stared appreciatively at his hands. He enjoys being pretty to her, leaning into the fantasy that he could be more than her weird fuck-up friend of a friend that’s too chicken-shit to ask her out. How odd is it, that he knows what it’s like to wake up to the smell of her shampoo, but has no idea how she likes to be kissed?

He’s so bad at this he’s failed before he’s even started. 

He can cook, though. 

Cooking is methodical, and so he does it. it’s an easy love language, for him. he dices the parsely and the other fresh herbs, sautes them wirh precision, uses some of the nice butter from work- it’s a marvel, at the end of it, fragrant and warm, waiting for her arrival. 

When she does make her arrival, just on time for him, he plates the dish before she comes in. 

“Oooh,” she preens, raking her eyes up and down him. He feels perciebed, but in a way that he’d like to be. Look at me, he thinks. What a pleasure to be seen by her. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers out, “Thought I’d thank you for all your help. Late nights you’ve been staying up with me, talking through the menu and all- thought I could make you something.”

When she tastes it, it’s careful and adoring, and he’s good at this. 

“Yes chef,” she says teasingly, “Oh my god, Carmen, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. I like being here.”

He wants to kiss her again, doesn’t know why he’s not letting himself. She meets him halfway, though, kissing the corner of his mouth that only a fool would imply has plausible platonic deniability.  

“Thanks, Carm.”

“Anytime.”

He’ll kiss her properly next time.

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Summary: Eddie considers his feelings and the chances he needs to take.

Warnings: Language, & alludes to smut.

A/N: Just a little something, cause’ I missed him.

“You know,” it’s said through a pause, wisp of smoke sizzling between milky whites, before it’s continued, “I love having time with you.”

You give one short snort, tilting yourself towards the man to your right. Shaking your head, you deadpan. “Well, considering we’ve been doing it for almost a year now, I would hope so.”

A picture of perfection in your eyes, is what you see. He’s on his stomach, curly hair in disarray, sweat glistening through his curls from previous activities. With a cigarette in one hand, the other splayed palm flat on his notebook he’d been scribbling in. He’s still naked to match you, a feast that you allow yourself to indulge in. His scars from death’s door two years ago, they remain, but blend with his ink - old and new.

Eddie Munson is watching you look at him, something he will never be used to experiencing. You make him feel like he’s the creator of the universe and you’d happily accept any fate he’d give you, what treasures he shall bestow upon you. It’s not just that you’re the only one that’s made him feel this way, it’s that it is you. And within the past year, all mind blowing sex aside - he’s fallen ass her elbow for you. Love for a Munson, that’s scarier than a thousand hive minds and a bat bite death all over.

If he lets you in, if you break his heart, Eddie doesn’t think he’ll survive this. But dammit, he craves to try. Do you feel this weird thing too? Or is it just sex? He’ll take fights, tears - every single bit of it just to have you. He hears Henderson and Harrington’s voices in his head.

Don’t waste anymore time.

Look what almost happened.

Dude, she’s been waiting for something for a long time, I think that something is you.

You’re as lost in him as he is in you, the dips in his hipbones that trail into the swell of his ass. Finding your regained solace back into the beckoning of his chocolate eyes. Big and wondrous, guiding you into seeing the world in new ways - you’re toe over tit for him.

Eddie swallows, stubbing out his cigarette as he coughs on a smoke wrapped confession. He levels with you, pinching your fingers into his own. He’s looking down when you push the curls from his face, patient and more beautiful than any princess Eddie’s imagination can ever create. You’re real, you’re here. He smiles softly, toothily, thumb finding your wrist bone to stroke.

You’re almost sure that he can feel your racing pulse point. He catches your attention once more with his words. “Not… Sweetheart, it’s not just the sex. As much as you blow my mind and my back out…” You both share a grin at the trail off.

You break in, noticing how over stimulated his confession is making him. You understand, you match. You take a deep breath and unfold. “I love having time with you too, Eddie.”

[oozeandgoo-art]

no, by "weird" i mean "uncanny". i mean it's a "weird dog" in the same way one could describe a parrot as a "weird autoresponder". this is not Actually a dog any more than it is Actually a dead thing, but when it walks like a duck and winks and says "quack" clear as day, might as well call it a weird duck, no?

this guy was pretty strongly inspired by the character Coyote from Gunnerkrigg Court, who is also a weird coyote in the sense that he's some other thing, but he's called Coyote, and he looks like a coyote, and it's as good a presumed name as anything else. personally I wasn't impressed by the original comic nor its execution of the character, and it treads into territory I don't want to touch vis-a-vis trying to "respectfully" turn characters from Indigenous American mythology into characters for one's own storytelling and entertainment, but I liked the idea of a mischievous Not A Dog with magic powers and a knack for showing up just before everything else goes wrong lurking about in my creative repertoire, and I think I could do a character like GC's Coyote just as well as GC pulled it off, if not, frankly, better lol. never let it be said I do not create with ego first and skill second XD

i suppose by weird dog I could mean awesome weird dog, but [weird dog] comes first!

made a weird dog

[hangesdarling]

Idea! Hange who finds out her rival in the scouts is actually just a massive bottom

rivals, right? — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You and your rival Hange were forced to sleep in one tent for an expedition. CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, nipple sucking, fingering, oral sex, a bit slow burn WORD COUNT. 2.1k A/N. sorry anon i missed the part where they're scouts :") they're both section commanders on this one though. hope that's alright!

"I'm not sleeping with you," you groaned, the irritation sharp enough to cut through the night. 

"You make it sound weird when we're just sleeping in one tent," Hange said with an amused laugh, padding up the tent floor with a few blankets so it wouldn't be too rocky to lie down on. 

So annoying, you might be thinking. Hange always acts coy, teasing even as if your constant clash and rivalry were an amusement of some sort. Years of training and expeditions, even as scouts, Hange always managed to be linked with you. Both were labeled the smartest, both became section commanders at the same time, and both were considered respectable researchers. Your titles always one up with the other, a tight competition you never seemed to have an agreement on. 

"Ugh, why is it always with you?" You mumbled behind the notebook you're scribbling on. It was loud enough to reach Hange's ears. 

"Sorry, dear. Every tent is occupied," they said simply. Hange placed two makeshift pillows, peeking over the tent as if waiting for you to come inside. You glanced in their direction but turned away almost instantly. 

"I'll be out here for a while," you muttered, focused on scribbling on your notes. Hange looked over your shoulder in curiosity, crawling beside you. 

"Observations, huh?" Hange remarked, pushing their glasses up so their eyes could follow your scribbles. 

You blushed at being observed, quickly hiding the notes you were writing. 

"Nah, just listing why my research is more relevant than yours," you saved yourself from awkwardness, pulling a smug smile. 

Hange laughed, tilting their head almost mockingly. "That's kinda pathetic, don't you think?" 

"Heh, not when I get those two titans for my experiment," you replied, lips curling into a smirk. 

Ah, so damn stubborn, Hange thought. They shook their head lightly, still amused by how you managed to pull this stubborn behavior with them for years. You're typically kind and soft-spoken with other scouts, an authority to be respected, not feared. But Hange finds it almost ridiculous when you both act like bickering children around each other. 

"Would it kill you to share a titan with me? Besides, Erwin said we only get to capture one titan each."

"Out of all people, you should know that won't be enough," you replied. The situation you're both in just hardens your stubbornness. How could humanity thrive and gain knowledge when research is always limited? Tight budget, the shitty authority; Survey Corps never seems to run out of problems. 

"Well, we have to work with our limited resources, you know," Hange explained. "We're not supported enough in terms of this. Our supplies are insufficient. That's probably why we're sharing a tent."

"I'll do something about that," you mumbled like a steadfast promise. "Just go to sleep for now."

Hange looks at you for a while, perhaps in admiration or judgment. But in any way, they see the reflection of their resolve. 

"You should sleep too. It would be a long day tomorrow. Good night, Y/N."

Do something about it, huh? Hange slept with that curious thought, wondering what risky method would you try to pull in the next few days. 

---

Being outside the walls stopped feeling new after your tenth or fifteenth expedition. As a scout, you always have some sort of fear just from the countless tales of unsuccessful expeditions and a tower of dead bodies after one. 

 But now, you managed to expertly map through the routes outside just from memory. Where titans roam the least or the best view to watch over their behavior. 

You were sitting atop a branch of a large tree, binoculars in hand, and planning where to stage the capture. Your mind went through the manpower and equipment sent with you outside, wincing at the fact that the capture could be dangerous. Hange managed to develop a catching net some months ago, ensuring a safe capture. However, with the tight route and a precarious amount of titan, you doubt that this capture would be entirely safe. 

From another tree, Hange was watching titans, observing how slow they usually walk without bait. They are focusing. Supposedly. 

But now and then, their binoculars would travel over where you sat, the lenses perfectly capturing your distress at the current conundrum. 

No sooner, you felt another presence at the tree—Hange's familiar footsteps, careful to reach you on that wide branch. 

"You're worrying about the route, isn't it?" you heard them whisper behind you as you lowered your own binoculars. 

"Not just that," you sighed defeatedly, head on your hands. "I was thinking that two titans really wouldn't be enough for us even if we shared."

You handed Hange your notebook much to their surprise. They flipped over the pages, gaining an understanding of your concerns. Your desired experiment might be ambitious and idealistic but it would be helpful if you succeeded. But with resources so limited and countless lives to take into consideration, how would you able to do this?

Hange sat beside you, still thumbing over some pages. Even if you're turning your face away, Hange could tell you were trying hard not to tear up from the frustration and possibility of loss. This was important for you after all. They've watched you study, observe, and create all of these for over a year. 

They placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before saying, "We could do something about this, you know that. Come with me."

----

"Why do you always kick your blanket off when you sleep?" Hange asked curiously one night in the tent. 

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do! I had to tuck it beneath your feet at least three times last night," Hange argued. 

"My, don't bother with it..." You brushed it off, turning away from them to hide your face. You tried to trace back since when Hange Zoë's relationship with you became so casual, almost friendly. If your mind wanders far enough, you might consider something else happening. Affection, maybe. But you shrugged all those thoughts off, reminding yourself that the plan you agreed on was purely for science and the advancement of humanity. 

"But you're weak to coldness," Hange continued, covering you in several layers of blanket, ignoring the pout on your lips. They had a grin on their face when they said, "Don't want my research partner getting sick, do I?"

"We're not research partners," you frowned.

"Eh, why not? I just told you my whole plan and you agreed with it."

"Doesn't mean we're partners from now on."

"God, you're one stubborn lady," Hange chuckled, a sigh escaping their lips. They pulled their blankets over them, slowly dozing off. Outside, the night was filled with the gentle chirps of crickets, chorusing at one point. Even with such proximity, you could feel Hange's warmth, their gentle breathing only conveyed that they must also be awake. 

---

The next morning, you and Hange's plan set into motion, traps were located strategically in a different route. Both of you were taking full liability for what would happen in the days to come, informing the soldiers about the need to capture four titans to sufficiently conduct the research. It wasn't the safest plan, some were hesitant but many trusted your scheme since all of you share a common goal. 

You commander your unit, imparting knowledge of the best actions to take. But for the remaining hours, your eyes remained on your notebook, pretending to check details to reach the optimum result. However, Hange knew you had an entirely different reason. Maybe to interact less with them, afraid they would bring up how you two ended up tangled in each other's arms last night.

---

"I'm just letting you know that won't happen again," you said flatly, eyes boring upwards through the tent as you lay down. 

Hange turned their head to you, their lips forming into a subtle smirk once more. "What is?"

"Um, last night..." you said in a low voice. 

"Ah, you mean when you're hugging me so tightly?" Hange asked smugly. 

You bit your lip, trying to save yourself from this. "I was asleep. Not responsible for my actions, but forgive me for disturbing your sleep."

Much to your surprise, Hange hovered over you, their deep brown eyes glinting almost knowingly against the dark space inside. The atmosphere thickened, your heart ramming louder than the sounds of night. 

"No need to apologize for anything, sweetheart," they whispered, their eyes following your lips the way your eyes do for them. In that heated moment, all that you've both held in flooded out like a dam breaking and gushing to spill over. Hange placed a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you pinned on the blankets as their lips met yours. It was a firm kiss, your lips nearly melting into each other's. Your hands traveled on Hange's hair where you tug and pull them closer. Hange sat you up in their lap, gaining better access of your neck and chest. Their hands snaked under your clothes as they ask for permission to go further each time to which you only nod. 

"If you want to have me so bad, you shouldn't have spent years being annoying," you muttered into the kiss. 

"Says the one who wouldn't let go of me last night," Hange smirked, a thumb circling your clothed breasts. "Besides, you should've picked up on it early on. You're so smart after all."

"You know, you look more attractive when you shut up," you muttered as you fell on top of Hange. Their flushed face look at you expectantly, expecting you would dominate this whole ordeal. After all, they saw you in that dominant, commanding light after years of leadership. 

But Hange noticed how flustered you were just from being on top of them. Your thighs kept straddled on their lap, your hands resting on their shoulder, not knowing where to hold on. Hange smirked, taking it as a sign to flip you over once more. Their breath was warm against your ear as they whispered, "It's okay, Y/N. Let me do it for you."

Hange locked your lips in a kiss once more, bundling your shirt on your chest. Their lips slithered from your lips down to your throat, reaching the trail between your breasts. They kept one firm hand on your wrist as their tongue gently circled one of your nipples, sucking their lips on the hardened bud.

Hange covered your mouth before you let out high-pitched noises from the sensation. 

"Shhhh... You don't want your subordinates to hear you, right?" They smiled against the darkness. 

The night was slow and heated as you let Hange do wonders with their mouth and fingers, always managing to draw out a soundless moan from you. Your lips could only part, your hands clenching around their body. They were amused to see you follow along and nod with their wishes, so compliant with their charm.

Hange had the button of your blouse open, your breasts spilling out into their face and the warm flesh of your stomach open for their wet kisses. 

"You know," Hange began, drawing their fingers in and out of you at a teasingly, slow pace. "I didn't expect this much submission from you."

"Shut up, Hange..." you breathed out, a hand over your eyes as you were beginning to write against their fingers. Hange held down your hip, tugging your pants a bit more so they could have more access to you.

"As you wish, m'lady," Hange placed a kiss on your clit before gently lapping up the warm wetness gathering on your slit.

Hange kept on until the faint light of dawn slitted through your tent. You forgot just how much stamina they had to draw one orgasm after another from you. They only stopped when you've whined and writhed enough under them, pleading for a break. Hange fixed up your clothes, smoothed out your hair, and drew the blanket over you again as if nothing happened. Their wet lips kissed you once more as they said, "You still have a few hours to sleep. Sleep tight, sweetheart."

---

The capture will take place during the afternoon. The equipment was set, and the soldiers were preparing their ODM gear for however long the capture may last. 

The scouts passed by, even some of your friends, noticing the slight shift of the atmosphere but couldn't quite put it into words. Maybe this time their section commanders weren't bickering as usual. They went with that fresh start in high spirits,  brushing off their suspicions whenever they saw Hange place an arm around your waist or whisper something to make you laugh or blush. Your unit didn't think much of it, even attributing it as a minor hallucination or a ripple in the universe. There's no way their section commanders are getting affectionate.

After all, you're rivals, right?

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[carvinglies]

Soulmate au part two: Creepypasta

part 1 || part 3 || part 4 Requests are open!

tw: mentions of flesh eating in EJ’s part

Sharing tattoo’s: Jason the toymaker

Jason didn’t think he would ever have a soulmate but desperately wanted someone to be with him and play for eternity. In that desperation, he stole many soulmates from their other half which went on for a while until Jason was tinkering with his newest doll adding on his “special” additions, when he felt a stinging sensation on his upper thigh. Pulling up his pant leg, he stared at the new ink on his leg confused before it hit him– he had a soulmate! A playmate for eternity was destined to meet him, that overjoyed Jason. He dropped his project to go find this soulmate of his, the blue door in his workshop beckoning him as he stepped inside to search. Days long searching ensued before Jason found himself standing in front of his destiny bound soulmate.

“Would you play with me forever?” The burgundy haired male asked the person as they stared wide eyed.

First words to soulmate written on their body:Bloodypainter

Helen never had time to worry about soulmates when he was younger but when he found his passion for painting the idea of being bound to another inspired him to no end. Ever since he was a kid Helen had the words, “Do you have a bandaid? I just scraped my knee falling for you.” Written on him, anyone he showed would laugh at it but Helen just found it confusing who says that to someone they just met? Well that’s what he thought before knocking over someone in the street when he went to go buy art supplies.

Before he could get out a sorry the person grinned bashadly loudly speaking, “Do you have a bandaid? I just scraped my knee falling for you.”

Words that describe their soulmate are written on them:Jeff the killer

Jeff honestly never gave two shits who his soulmate was thinking they just had some weird words scribbled on them due to their method of connection. He had no reason to go out looking for his soulmate. Thinking and I quote, “if destiny really wanted us to be soulmates they would meet me themselves.” So that’s exactly what destiny did. Jeff was forced to go out for snacks by BEN grumbling through his mask he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around he glared at who disturbed him. “Sorry to disturb you but you kinda look like my writing,” they looked around before continuing, “I was wondering if you were, y’know, who I think you are?” 

Gravitational pull towards their soulmate:Laughing Jack

It pissed Laughing Jack off when it began the constant feeling of being pulled in a direction even if it’s easy to resist gets annoying. He can’t even escape it inside his box! Jumping around from house to house especially is harder if you no longer can stay long from the pull forcing you away. Laughing Jack was relieved when the pull wasn’t as harsh anymore when he was at the nearest carnival looking to terrorize kids, well that was the case before the pull suddenly ramped it up and flung laughing Jack colliding with someone else who seemed to have been thrown too.

The person held their head as they awkwardly waved blabbering out the first sentence that came to mind, “So hey soulmate? I guess?”

Ink marks that move towards your soulmate:Eyeless Jack 

It was hard looking for your soulmate while being swamped with work from medical school, and even harder after being sacrificed and turned into an unwilling flesh eating demon. While past Jack would have loved to meet his soulmate the one that’s here now feared the possibility of eating them accidentally the ideas of the what if’s flooding into his head as he stared at the smoke like tattoo’s decorating his arms. Sometimes when Jack was a child he would play this game where he would walk forward watching as the tattoos reached out towards the direction his soulmate was curling around his arms before receding when he stepped back. Eyeless Jack while a recluse craved normality so he finally exited his cabin towards the nearest store. While checking out his items, ones he didn’t really need but anything to feel normal he supposed, the cashier's hand touched his tattoos burned as the burning sensation spread all the way to his hand. Jack assumed the cashier felt it too watching they gawked.

Regaining their composure they began to tease him, “what took you so long?”

Seeing the world in black and white till you meet your soulmate :Ticci toby

Toby was always curious about how colors looked, what if he was wearing a horrendously color matched outfit and couldn’t tell because he couldn't see it? What if his favorite knitted sweater from when he was little was a piss colored yellow? So many questions have gone unanswered it still annoys him that he can’t see colors what if yellow was a whole different color then what he thought it was, well Cupid decided today he would find out as leaves crunched under his foot as Toby walked the woods coming across someone sitting on the cliff looking out at the city below them, when he stepped on a particular damp twig they whipped their head around locking eyes with Toby. Colors flooded both of their senses overwhelmingly so, Toby swore he could smell them too at the beginning.

Overwhelmed with shock his soulmate jumped up running towards him stopping halfway before beginning their sentence feverishly, “Nice to meet you!” They extended their hand for a handshake, Toby cautiously stepped forward before recorpirating 

[zep-zep-blog]

If I had a nickel for each time I made a oneshot based off a prompt from @timeslugarts I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.🧍🏼‍♂️

Vox x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Cw: Talk of sex, mentions of feeling not good enough

The last red rose🌹

Reader feels like Vox is ashamed or embarrassed by their relationship and a drunk Valentino only solidifies those thoughts.

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You were Vox's prized diamond, a rose surrounded by thorns, the last unicorn in his eyes. You were kind, thoughtful, funny, tons of stuff the average sinner wasn't. He went to several lengths to make sure your beauty was safe and protected from the several news channels and overlords that were looking in. Unfortunately, his actions came off as him being ashamed of your relationship with you. It made you feel like you would never be enough to be seen with him in public.

Valentino had made another borderline porn film and Vox chose to go to the red carpet premiere with Velvette to support his friend and fellow overlord. You sat in your shared bed, wanting to stay in and not watch the smutty movie Val produced. The silk sheets rubbed comfortably against your skin as you settled into a more comfy position. Watching as the camera panned over other famous demons, hellborn, and overlords. The camera then focuses on Vox, bringing a subconscious smile to your face as you see him answer questions and look into the camera.

"Are you seeing anyone?" The journalist asks, shoving the mic into his face. Before he could answer a drunk Valentino takes it and giggles, "We are like rabbits." This made you sit up, shocked as he went on and on about different bedroom acts. This felt like a red, hot iron strike your heart. How dare he just let him speak like that when he knows you're watching. All for an image to sinners that he said were less important, less worthy of his time, less worthy of him.

His laugh was what broke you, that nonchalant chuckle he made when he tried to escape awkward situations. Warm tears started to roll, muffled sobs escaping your mouth as you covered it with your hand. You were angry. The man you loved, cherished, and planned on marrying one day just betrayed you after his actions made you think you were nothing more than some toy he could play house with.

When he comes home he's shit-faced drunk, removing his jacket and throwing it to the floor, expecting to cuddle with you. Unfortunately, he was only met with a cold bed and messy sheets, a clear sign you were here, but you were nowhere to be seen. This sobered him up a bit, he did everything to protect you, but he failed. That is until he found the note, at first he thought it was a ransom note or something, but it was your handwriting. He read the scribbled ink;

'I went somewhere else. As I know you're probably embarrassed by me, so I hope you're happy with Valentino'

This shook him to his core, he tried everything to keep you out of the public eye for your safety only to be the reason you left. He crumpled the note, cursing under his breath. He did this and now he has to fix it. He collected all the photos he had and wrote a script up for his nightly talk show.

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He addressed the journalist's question and Valentino's response. Stating that his relationship with Val was only friendly and platonic and that he was very much in love with someone else. Pictures of your first date, birthdays, holidays, even one of Vox sleeping faded in and out slowly on the screen as he talked about his genuine feelings and how he felt about your relationship, and his reasons to keep you hidden.

He talked about how your nose scrunched when you giggled and how you held his hand when you felt nervous.

"I fucked up. I tried so hard to keep you out of the camera that I pushed you away. I know words can't fix actions, but please come back to me so I can make things up to you. Please." He said while looking directly into the camera.

This was broadcasted all over hell, even on the radio in hopes you would hear it and hear it you did. You had went to Charlie for advice and help, sobbing on her couch when the broadcast came on. You were touched, hell genuinely thinking about fully forgiving him, but a small part of you was still angry. It took you to leave for him to wake up to address the rumors of his and Val's relationship that spread months ago and finally speak the truth about your role in his life. You ultimately decided to go back, apologizing for leaving. "Darling, don't apologize. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I made you feel like nothing, but you're everything to me." He stated, hugging you tightly when you walked into his office.

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Cameras clicked as the limo rolled up, shouts of questions and excitement started up as the door opened and Vox got out, giving the cameras his signature smile before turning back and holding out his hand towards you. You grab his hand nervously, stepping out and giving a shy smile to the crowd. Finally, you both felt like you were his only thought.

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Carpal tunnel core <3 /j Hope yall enjoy (^^)

[crushedsweets]

Can you draw or talk more about Toby and Eyeless Jack or even the X-Virus?

YESSSS i can. heres a lil doodle to get me started.

OKKKK the little concept in my head has slender's MAIN GOAL being to prevent any paranormal/supernatural stuff coming out to the general public. hence his proxies being made to get rid of tapes, evidence, and kill if Necessary. sometimes slender makes paranormal/supernatural ppl help out his human proxies "as payment for refuge" in his forest. SO that sorta explains how toby and jack know each other and why jack helps at all. he can't rlly go out to the public so he's stuck with these assholes. it's not really supposed to be a 'mansion' trope, moreso random cabins and shelters littered about the forest, but it could work in the mansion au too

Imma ramble abt toby n jacks friendship (in my head) under the cut + a random x virus doodle

as for toby and jack specifically. toby is impulsive, aggressive, can't feel pain, and doesn't know what's good for him, so he's forced to get help from jack a good bit. for a long while there was hella tension between them since, again, jack isn't helping these guys out of the goodness of his heart. he's helping them bc the forest their boss resides in is the only place he's relatively safe. jack has a weird mix of a inferiority and superiority complex, since he envies toby's humanity but also feels like he's 'better' due to toby's own . . violent habits. toby thinks jack is pretty cool from the get-go ('wooow ur grey..') but he gets pissed off with jack's questions and demands of 'DONT RIP UR FUCKING STITCHES' and 'u have a concussion don't fucking scroll on your phone for 5 hours a day'.

toby has no idea if these demands come from actual concern or annoyance, and frankly, neither does jack. regardless, toby's with jack a decent bit. partially since jack makes a lot of people really uncomfortable so it's easy to go hang out with jack when he doesnt wanna deal with anyone else but still wants company. eventually theyre capable of some decent banter and conversations. theyre both mamas boys so thats a very weird touchy topic that they kinda dance around but both feel very deeply and know the other relates. THEY MISS THEIR MOMS SO BADLY.. :( mayhaps one year toby helps drop off flowers to jack's moms house for mothers day. jacks way too ashamed to even get within a 10 mile radius of his mom. that's kinda the moment things really shift between them and they actually become friends.

toby also asks abt university. lyra was at community college until she passed, and toby never considered college as an option, so he gets curious on what he missed out on. he also likes to share stuff abt lyra and their old shenanigans. tim and brian have used his childhood against him multiple times before, and it's not like he's gonna trust ben or jeff with that information. jacks sort of like a void he could talk into. jack feels uneasy talking about his life before the sacrifice, since he misses it so unbelievably bad, but toby accidentally got him to talk about it while treating a burn before.

ok and to top this fucking essay off heres xvirus. i had no idea he existed until this year and someone sent me an ask about his updated design, so he's some scribbles for him :9 his concepts super cool tho so maybe ill get more into him later on

[motherforthefamicom]

random assortment of drawings i might as well post

[gretavanlace]

Stars Collide

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, adult themes, semi public sexual acts, dirty talk, pet names, digital penetration, etc.

First, special thanks to this ask who got my gears turning, I know it isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you love it all the same. Second, I asked for josh pics and ya’ll 👏 came 👏 through 👏 Thank you so much for taking the time to help out with my little request, you guys are the greatest! They were all incredible, but in the end @jakekiszkasbelly-button killed it with this stunning pic featuring a camera flare-halo that stole my heart. Just look at him!

Photo credit to the lovely @indigo-starcatcher

You wake with a start, eyes wide with drowsy confusion, and he thinks you’re adorable. Like a tiny baby bunny, startled in the brush by rustling leaves. It makes him want to scoop you up, to hold you cupped in his hands, safe from the world. To peer down at you and soothe your nerves softly. To pet you and marvel at your softness, your warmth….

It also makes him long to corrupt all that innocence. To strip it away down to the bones of what you’re really capable of. That wicked glint in your eye that appears when there’s no one to bear witness but him - he wants to see it.

“Josh?” Your voice is gritty with the impromptu slumber you’d fallen into after the show. Curled up like a cat in one corner of the couch in the corner of his dressing room. He hadn’t the heart to disturb you.

Instead, he’d lost the satin suit and showered, and was now slipped into something a little more pedestrian, scribbling lyrics and ideas upon the lined pages of his notebook, sipping from a glass filled with honey-laced whiskey.

He speaks softly, as is so often his way “I’m here, princess.”

Your gaze swings over to him, and he watches the tension leave your form and loves you just a little bit more. They way you find solace in his presence softens his heart indescribably.

“It’s so quiet.” You sigh, arms reaching for the ceiling in a dramatic, feline stretch. “Where is everyone? Did I sleep through the apocalypse?”

He laughs gently, eyes trained on the page where he’s finishing a rough sketch to present to wardrobe. You’re right to ask questions, he knows. Normally the energy backstage is electric before a show, and even more so after. Voices booming from all directions, golf carts grinding up and down the halls, equipment being dragged across concrete, shouts of congratulations and instructions. The rock and roll circus of live wire sound is easily tuned out as seasoned as you all are. Silence, on the other hand, is deafening.

“They’ve all gone back to the hotel.” He shrugs, setting everything aside in order to focus on you. He loves to watch you do anything, but witnessing you inch your way out of floating dreams deserves his full attention. “I told them we’d just call a car. Wanted to let you sleep.”

You shimmy your shoulders in a mock shudder. “This feels weird. It’s way too quiet.”

A smile that it feels like he can’t help, shapes his lips beautifully. You resemble a fallen angel, all wrinkled skirt and tangled hair, a groupie who just clawed her way out of the pit, disheveled and out of breath, all for him. “It is sort of weird, isn’t it?”

An idea lights his face up, urging an unsure giggle out of your sleepy chest before he’s even shared what he’s thinking.

“You want to go walk around a little? It’ll be like being at school after a play. Remember that? When the halls and classrooms were dark and it felt like you shouldn’t be there…when it felt like some strange, alien, terrain…remember?”

His enthusiasm is catching, “No, I don’t remember that…I wasn’t a theater nerd.” You toss a tasseled throw pillow at him and, in retaliation, he rises and grabs your hands, tugging you to your feet.

“That’s what’s wrong with you, my love.” He nudges you closer to your shoes and smooths out your clothes while you toe them on. “Too much time bouncing around in your little cheerleader uniform and not enough time down in the trenches with the drama club dreck.”

“I wasn’t a cheerleader and you damn well know it.” You roll your eyes with love and swing open the door to find the hall desolate and dimly lit. “You don’t think we’re completely alone in here, do you?”

“Nah,” he steps out behind you. “They’d kick us out before all that. But even if they missed us, there’d be security. Still, probably the closest to alone we’re ever gonna be.”

You spin around, grabbing up his hand tightly in both of yours…the spirited fire in your eyes lighting his own. “Let’s go check out the stage. Think anyone will stop us?”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, waving you off like he can’t believe you even said such a thing. “Do you have any idea who I am, princess?”

“Humble, aren’t you, Kiszka?” You kiss the air at him and trot off ahead in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Lewis and Clark?” He calls out smugly, “Stage is this way.”

~

“Look at all these seats,” you marvel, staring out at a sea of now empty chairs feeling nearly worshipful. An incredible talent stands beside you. Warm as the sun, and just as revered. You’d kneel at his feet, a peasant before her king, if it might please him…though he would likely despise it.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking the same thing about you. Wondering at your beauty, and how it threatens to steal the breath from his lungs, even in the shadows of the darkened arena. Loving you and your gorgeous soul. Adoring your light. You are an angel. His angel. His princess.

“You fill these seats,” you shake your head, amazed by him as if he’s brand new. “Ever think about that? You and your brothers, you fill these seats. It’s incredible what you guys do. I’ll never get enough of it.”

He sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “You don’t get bored with it? Same show night after night? Rehearsal after rehearsal?”

“Same jokes…” you tease sweetly, “champagne, caviar, anyone?”

“Shut up,” he squeezes you with a quiet chuckle, “I haven’t used that one in a while. It’s a classic, though.”

“You look like a god, you know?” You’ve fallen hushed, picturing the way he shines, “Divine, a graven image come to life. Sometimes it’s like…it’s like I forget I even know you. You aren’t my Josh, how could that breathtaking spirit glittering under lights be mine? You’re magic.”

“Not to negate the poetry in which you’ve just showered me, but it makes my dick hard when you talk like that.” His lips have found the spot just below your earlobe that makes you shiver.

“Yeah?” You’ve begun swaying along with him to some inaudible song it seems you both can hear. “Well, what doesn’t make your dick hard?”

“Hey!” He nips at the side of your throat in punishment. “I put it away for this tour.”

You gasp and tingle beneath his kiss, but hold fast to your footing. “Mmm-hmm. We’ll see how long that lasts. You’ll get tired of tucking. Plus, you like it when they look.”

Now, his arms have loosened to allow his hands to explore the silken skin of your stomach…palms searching and slow, hidden below your shirt. “Maybe I do like it. Maybe there’s no maybe about it.” He pulls you closer and there is his cock, hard and inviting, no longer concealed behind a stage costume, but pressing into the small of your back like an offering. “Do you like it? When they look? When they want what’s yours? When they want to fuck what’s yours?”

He wants you to say yes. He wants to know that you find some sort of perverse pleasure in it, the same way he does. He wants you to love their need as much as he does. He wants you to be secure in his love enough to enjoy it all.

And he’s in luck.

“I do like it when they look. Sometimes it makes me want to go out there and drop to my knees right in front of them,” you confess, listening to his breathing pick up, “makes me want to suck your cock right in front of them. To show them that you don’t only sound pretty when you sing.”

He’s toying with the button on your skirt now, like he’s contemplating unfastening them, like he’s wrestling with the idea of something he knows he shouldn’t want.

And he is. He’s thinking about laying you right down, of giving it to you right there on the catwalk beneath both of your feet. He’s imagining how lovely you’d sound given the acoustics, he’s wondering how loud he could allow you to be. His beautiful mind is pondering how open you might be to the idea, whether you’d think about the risk of getting caught, whether you’d care even if you did think about it.

“When do I sound pretty, princess? Besides when I sing?” He gives in to how badly he wants you, but forgoes the buttons, choosing to slip his hand under your skirt from behind, instead. “Hm? Tell me.”

“Josh,” it squeaks out of you, and he’s never loved the sound of his own name more. His fingers inch under the hem of your panties in reward.

“You sound pretty when you can’t catch your breath,” the pads of his fingers circle your trembling entrance, gathering your warm, slick, desire, as his opposite forearm snakes around your throat to hold you in place. He listens with rapt attention as you whisper his praises. “And when you moan. When you get close and start to whimper, that’s pretty…the filthy things you say, pretty…even prettier when you cum. I think about it all the time, the way you sound.”

He sinks into you, curling and stroking, petting you from the inside. “Wish they could hear you. All those beautiful little whines when you’re right on the edge. You’re a star, princess. You’re a fucking star.”

Thankful for his centering hold on you, you reach back, gripping his thigh for a moment before grabbing at his cock as your body rolls and arches, free hand squeezing viciously at your breast, urgent and frantic in your need.

With a kiss bestowed upon your temple he brings his lips to the shell of your ear and hums, “Reach down and touch your clit. Rub her just right while I finger fuck your sweet little cunt. Want you to feel good. Can you do that, baby? Can you feel good for me?”

A hurried nod accompanies a breathy gasp of his name as he works you over on stage, on display like art for the gaze of anyone who might happen upon the both of you.

You can’t imagine caring any less. You want this, and you want it now. Let them see.

“Be a good girl and close your eyes, princess.” Your lids drift shut, instantly obeying his gentle command. “You listen so well. My princess likes to make me proud, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” you thrust your hips forward, wanting, needing, him deeper still.

“I’m honored, my love.” His lips are kissing over your cheek, nuzzling and pecking tenderly as he fucks against that heavenly spot deep inside that makes you want to scream. “Keep your eyes closed. Picture them out there. Watching you. Watching you flush and squirm. Watching me want you, watching me touch you, watching me take you apart. Wanting to be you. Wanting to be the girl up here with her cunt wrapped up tight and wet around my fingers…making such a pretty mess of me.”

“Fuck,” the obscenity flits off your tongue as you gush into his palm.

“Yeah?” He taunts, biting tingles into your dewy skin. “You like that? Show them, princess. Show them what a gorgeous girl you are when I make you cum. C’mon, show them how pretty my favorite star shines.”

“Josh, please,” you’re balanced upon the razor, praying to be sliced open and bared to him. It’s so close, but…

“Please what, princess?” He’s rocking his clothed cock against the swell of your ass from behind, fucking those perfect, insistent, fingers into you at a delicious clip, coaxing you nearer and nearer as you soak his skin and your thighs. “Tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you, baby, I’ll fucking give it to you. You know I will.”

Your fingernails want to bury into his flesh, but you’re careful not to leave marks. “I’m gonna cum…” it breathes out of you wildly, as an uncontrollable desperation steps in to steal your sense. “I’m gonna cum. Talk to me, Josh. Talk to me while I cum for you. I want your voice…talk me through it.”

A feral sound growls out of him, but it dissolves into something weak, as though he can’t handle you. “I’ll talk to you princess, don’t you worry that pretty fucking head. I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you. You feel that?”

He tightens his grip, holding you upright, and you fuck against his hand faster in reply, thrusting your hand back to bury into, and pull at, his curls “Yeah you do. My girl feels it. She knows. She knows I’ve got her, and she’s gonna cum pretty just for me, isn’t she?”

You explode into sensation in response. Sparks fly and batter themselves against your nerve endings as you coil up sung around his pumping fingers…pouring and dripping against his skin like warm, floral bath water.

“There you go, sweet girl…” he praises softly, in contrast with the relentless pace his hand is working away at you. “You let it all go, alright? Yes, baby, that’s it. That’s it. Let it out, princess, just for me, let it all out. good girl, fucking sing for me just like that.”

You’re wailing into the empty space, likely alerting anyone still wandering the halls, but you can’t hear yourself and he can’t be bothered to care.

His voice carries you through, groaning your praises as he ruts his aching cock against you, holding you fast and safe in his embrace until you fall limp, a rag doll with his blissful fingers still filling her throbbing cunt.

“That’s my girl, princess…” he kisses along the curve of your jaw, bringing you down gingerly. “So, so good. You’re an angel.”

Head now descending from the rumbling clouds of the storm he’s created, you realize suddenly what you’re faced with, “Josh, I was so loud…we have to go.”

“Not now,” he protests, languidly slipping his fingers in and out of you still.

“Yes, now.” Your thighs tighten, barring his movement, until he shakes out of his stupor.

“Okay, Okay…” he lowers your skirt and sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you from his wrist and inner forearm as you begin yanking him towards the stage exit. “But I’m about to make sure the whole hotel knows how pretty you can sing, too, princess. You’re a star.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty

[rotten-debzee]

(+ short oneshot?)

Veronica takes her notebook and rapidly starts to scribble in it.

"What are you doing here?"

"The hell do you mean by that, you rude ass geek!", Heather responds, crossing her arms with a clearly offended expression plastered in her face.

Veronica keeps writing before she could discover what being punched by a ghost feels like.

"What I mean is that from all places, why are you here in school right now?", the dark-haired girl questions, thinking how if she was in Heather's position, being at school would be the last thing she would ever think to do.

At first, Heather seems reluctant to answer that, remaining silent for a few moments, before giving up after a little mental battle with herself.

She sighs. "I was bored, okay?"

The blonde would be blushing if it wasn't because she has no blood running in her body anymore. "I have nothing else to do. So… I thought accompanying you would be less boring than staying home alone and unnoticed. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Veronica definitely didn't expect the demon queen to say something like that ever in her life, so now she is not sure on how to respond to her words.

"Pff, she is making a funny expression right now…", before she is even aware of it, she can't help but smile at the blonde, who is taken off guard by that. Heather's flustered reaction doesn't go unnoticed by Veronica, who giggles at her before writing.

"Be welcome then, how very of you to enjoy boring classes and shitty teachers even in the afterlife"

Now both of them laugh, Veronica is sure that she looks like a mad woman laughing alone from the sight of everyone, but she couldn't care less about crap like that right now.

For some unknown reason, even after the laughter died down, the smiles on their faces remain untouched.

Veronica can't help but feel something weird in her stomach as she watches the blonde closely, not knowing if it's a good or bad kind of feel. Still not being able to tear her eyes apart from her, because even through her dead eyes, Heather's gaze softens with a little spark that wasn't there before, and Veronica is thrilled to discover what other subtle details can be found on the blonde's face.

There are a lot of unsaid words between them, accompanied by, once cold, now slowly melting gazes, and for a good few moments, those interactions were the only ones both girls were sharing.

Until the teacher starts speaking loudly, finally making Veronica snap out of the haze she and Heather were in just a second ago, both breaking eye contact and acting like said haze hasn't even existed to begin with.

The teacher announces a surprise quiz, which is received with tired groans by the students. Veronica joins the crowd in their displeasure, soon being replaced with a smirk, as an idea pops up in her head, writing it down.

"Heather, now that you're here…"

.

.

.

.

.

"That one is D for sure, but I'll go check either way…" Heather circles around the classroom as she spies on everyone's answers, she knows that the only right answer is the one the teacher has in his notes, but it's still fun to see what weird things can the students come up with.

"Damn, this stupid fuck has almost everything wrong, how embarrassing…", the ghost mockingly mumbles while reading some guy's answers.

Veronica has been trying her best to not burst laughing for the last 10 minutes, watching Heather just having the time of her life floating around and making fun of the people unaware of her presence makes it almost impossible for her to at least not giggle at the sight.

"Wait Veronica!, that is a trap question, is actually B."

The brunette nods eagerly, thanking Heather silently as she writes everything down. She is definitely treating the blonde with some yummy dessert later for her help. Honestly, at first, she thought she would refuse her petition and just enjoy watching her suffer the test through, but thankfully she didn't.

Maybe this is the start of something, maybe they might start to feel more comfortable around each other, both of them could even be good partners in crime if they try, sure, they might have discovered it a little too late, but hey, better later than never, right?

(lol I can't believe I actually write this)

[groggy-acorn69]

So here's my first official post for this blog. Just some simple Bill and Ted headcanons to start the blog off right ^^

BILL & TED HEADCANONS

TED 'THEODORE' LOGAN

Audhd

Gets overwhelmed and overstimulated easily which leads him to becoming nonverbal

It pisses his dad off but Ted doesn't let it bother him too much since he knows he'll always have a safe space with Bill

Has lived his life feeling defeated that he'll never find someone to understand him until he met Bill (I headcanon they met around the start of middle school) and now it's his favorite feeling to have Bill understand him when others can't

When he does go nonverbal he never writes down what he wants to say. He always points and grunts until Bill is able to understand him or just wraps himself up in his favorite blanket of Bill's and turns the lights of to decompress until he's able to speak again

He's a heinous nail biter, and while it's not the best solution Bill had always found himself carrying things like erasers and pen caps for Ted to gnaw on instead

It's also his most most used coping mechanism to tell himself 'Bill understands me, Bill understands me' when he gets weird looks or someone fails to understands him

Seeks a lot of tactile stimulation, loving to touch rough and bumpy surfaces or Bill's curls. Also has a habit of rubbing his face over Bill's clothes like a cat when they hug

BILL S. PRESTON

adhd

When he's working on school work or really anything he needs to focus on that doesn't require two hands to do, he grabs a piece of notebook paper and a pen and draws mindless doodles and swirls with his left hand while he works with his right

Mindless scribbles turn into mandela sort of things which morphed into actual drawings

That's how he found his love for art and picks up an extracurricular art class during school

Has a temper but it takes a while for him to lose it, but the fuse shortens when he gets overstimulated

Hates when he blows up on Ted, immediately pulling him in for a hug and apologizing but the guilt still doesn't go away for a while

Keeps multiple fidgets in his pockets and back pack at all times for both himself and Ted when they get restless

Voila! First post done ^^ could've possibly shaped it up a bit more but again- I'm excited to share hehehe. If you like what you see interact and follow for more duders! :)

[missmonsters2]

Tara Carpenter please Van with ⚡️🫂✊

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader/OFC

Warnings: traumababy!tara. umbrella sharing. softsoftsoft

Library Blog | AO3

Note: i love her your honor <3

Count: 0.99k (you almost got me there)

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷🗡⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've only seen Tara Carpenter from a distance.

There was something about the girl who had survived multiple serial killers after her and still enjoying her university life that made her hard to approach.

People still do, of course, but you think Tara only has a handful of people she will truly let close to her.

So, you're content to keep your distance, despite sharing a few classes with her. These intro classes were melting your brain, but the girl in front of you seemed to find them fascinating as she scribbled down her notes diligently.

You watch Tara's ponytail move around, her head looking up and down as she writes notes. You thought that was another strange thing—how Tara Carpenter didn't bring a laptop to class like most people here.

You wonder if it's so she sees less about the stuff written about her online.

The class ends without another hitch, and Tara's quick to pack her things up, chatting with a few people before she takes off. On the other hand, you take your time as it's the last class of the day for you, and you're in no rush to get to your apartment across the campus.

It's a while before you exit the building, and you find it pouring heavily outside. It's a little earlier than the weatherman predicted, but you were prepared with an umbrella. Putting your headphones around your ears, you pull an umbrella out and begin walking.

About halfway through your walk, you find Tara Carpenter standing outside the bookstore, unable to leave as it was obvious she didn't have an umbrella.

Even though Tara looks stressed, you find yourself leaning towards continuing your way because she'd probably find it weird or suspicious if you approached her and offered to walk her home without ever talking to her.

But then Tara looks up and catches your gaze, and there's an unmistakable look of recognition in her eyes. She gives you an unsure smile, and you let out a small sigh as you pause briefly before changing course to walk toward her. You remove your headphones and let them hang around your neck when you reach her.

"Hey," Tara greets you with that same unsure smile. "You're in my intro lit and intro to writing class, right?"

You nod, introducing yourself quietly before saying, "Tara, right?"

Tara nods, but a look on her face tells you that she knows that you should definitely know who she is, but you ignore it.

"Didn't bring an umbrella?"

Tara looks sheepish as she shakes her head. "No, I think I forgot it by the door when I was rushing out this morning."

You nod, hesitating before finally asking, "Do you live far?"

There's a momentary pause, but you pretend not to notice it despite how awkward you feel. But eventually, Tara tells you which area she lives in.

"Oh, I live a block away from you," you tell her. "Do you want to walk home together? My umbrella is big enough and I can drop you off so you don't have to keep waiting."

Once again, Tara seems to be hesitating.

"I won't be offended if you say no, I understand," you tell her softly.

You're not sure if it's your words or how you said it, but Tara accepts with a nod.

The walk is initially quiet because you're too unsure if it's okay to ask her questions without making it seem like you're overly interested in her for nefarious reasons. But you think Tara can't stand the quietness before she starts to ask you questions about yourself—your major, how you're enjoying the classes, and—

The light flashes first before thunder rips through the sky like it's attempting to create a hole.

Tara jumps so loudly, yelping as she suddenly loops her arm through yours before closing the small gap between the two of you.

You're taken aback as you look over at her, the clearly frightened expression on her face, and her eyes move around as if she's expecting something to pop out.

You swallow, feeling sympathy flood your chest for the girl.

"Hey," you say softly. "Are you okay?"

But Tara doesn't answer, just squeezes your arm tighter.

When the second flash of light blinds the sky, Tara suddenly moves her hand to cover her ears as the thunder rumbles the sky.

You mull over your options, but you're quick to decide on grabbing her wrist and dragging her with little resistance to the nearest public library, where others are taking shelter.

Tara sees the crowd and becomes confused. "What are you—"

"Don't think we'll make it home in the rain and thunder," you say quietly, not acknowledging that she froze up in the rain. "We should just take cover here for a bit and leave again when the rain stops."

You bring Tara to a quiet corner, but not secluded away, and get her to sit down on the ground where there are pillows. The thunder rumbles again, and Tara is breathing heavily despite how much she's trying to hide it. She hugs herself as if to try to shrink away from the sound.

You purse your lips before removing your headphones and placing them over her ears.

"What—"

But you pull out your phone and press play, and Tara's mouth closes, letting the music take over any noise. You turn up the volume to drown out the noise but not too loud that it'll rupture her ears and toss your phone into her hands where it's open on Spotify.

Tara merely looks at you as you pull a book from your back, leaning back against the cushions, and begin reading without saying anything.

But even as the music drowns out the thunder, it can still be felt through the sky and ground. Tara shuffles closer to you, flinching at the next feel of thunder.

You swallow, hesitantly putting your arm around her shoulder but relax when she leans into it.