#fixer upper oc

[strawbyfield]

Haven’t been drawing full stuff too much… so heres a collection of a few doodles :]

[doodleimprovement]

@1spooky2me's Fixer-Upper AU Bill is so Blorbo to me. I wanna pat him on the back and tell him he's doing his best and that's what matters. But alas, that is what OCs are for.

I imagine Ford wanted some time to think and just kinda shipped Bill off to Nell's home on the other side of Gravity Falls for a few hours after some sort of altercation between the two of them lol. Nell being a witch who turns all of GFs weird paranormal energy into magic she can use ends up being a neat thing for him to learn about another person, at least.

More rambly character stuff under the readmore (These are mostly for me cause I love elaborating on concepts lmao)

In Nell's canon, she begins to befriend Stanford right around the time of the portal incident with Fiddleford, but ends up chased away when Bill has possessed a sleeping Ford and tries to kill her when she checks up on him (When Ford takes back over, he refuses any help she might offer and chases her off). She then avoids the Shack like the plague for the next 30 years, only to be roped back in the summer that Dipper and Mabel arrive in Gravity Falls

Nell isn't really one to hold grudges, but she is a little fascinated at Bill's arrival as a human on earth. She wonders if this "redeemed" man even remembers what he did to her.

Since Wierdmageddon, Ford has been able to actually pursue the friendship with her that never got a chance to bloom back in the early 80s, and that's why he was comfortable leaving Bill with Nell. Worst she's going to do is make Bill garden with her anyway lol

[i-write-sin-not-tragedy]

Finally!! Full character sheets for @tv-fucker and I's hazbin au♡ meet the Sonas, Cloud and Sunlight! Everyone's Favorite Electrical Firefly and Computer virus Axolotl! What shenanigans will ensue, find out eventually!

[theamari-blog]

Chapter 2.2 : Successors

Beginning -- Previously -- Blurb -- Next -- Chronological

  In 1969 Perlina Ramos found herself Waywarden of Compass House because she knew these stories to be true.

  She approached her new post the same way she went through life— with a methodical, academic zeal. She not only wanted to understand these creatures, but felt called to help them too.

Young Perlina Ramos in the house! Having way too much fun with retro 70′s style, hat tip to @surely-sims for the super cool retro office decor and @pandorassims4cc for cleaning poses (few and far between tbh.)

[tv-fucker]

Deals change people, look at the sick post-deal look that @i-write-sin-not-tragedy made for Sunlight! I'm so in love with the little details! I love this goofy little axolotl inspired menace <3

Sunlight doesn't care what the deal does to her. She's on a mission to find her bestie, and if that means making a deal with Vox to get the information she needs to find him? It's worth it. Cloud is worth that.

In the meantime, streaming video games and working as an assistant is keeping her busy. Busier than ever before, and she's never been happier.

Sunlight's hobbies include annoying Vox, swimming around in the tank under his desk, dancing, and being a general online menace.

[starlooove]

Ignore straight Bee…

[swan2swan]

Lunella or Casey had better get a love interest soon because their chemistry's too cute but I KNOW they ain't Gonna Be a Thing.

[infestedviscera]

Cog oc…. He name is Fixer-Upper

[yavuzbavuz]

Who? Whatever! Ep - 17 - J-just a quick fix - "N-Nothing too special, I j-just thought I could he-help a bit" - Who

Don't ask me about the Roman Empire, I don't know anything

[1spooky2me]

Thoughts on people using their GF OCs for art with fixer-upper Bill? I kinda wanna draw him just chillin :>

I’m cool with that!

[answer2jeff]

fixer-upper. // lip gallagher

lip x biker-girl!OC

warnings : public sex, oral (m!receiving), praise kink, light to rough hair-pulling, unestablished relationship, intense and obvious flirting, porn with plot and detail, mentions of smoking (tobacco), cursing, OC is just as full of herself as Lip, knows she's a bitch, kinda has a weird sense of possessiveness over him?? clunky and overly detailed writing with a journaling/diary style.

authors note : trying something a little different! using the first person POV with an original character. first time writing this way—still getting the hang of it <3 this is REALLY long...sorry.

song : beauty school.

disclaimer : you can picture the OC however you like! her name is really just used for aesthetic purposes. there isn't much description on her appearance other than the fact that her hair is long enough to put it in a ponytail. enjoy!

Great. Fucking great.

One of my tires is punctured. The visor in my helmet is cracked. My elbows are etched with surface level scratches and dried blood. And the engine cover of my bike has finally snapped off. I had it coming. It was an old piece of rusty junk from my cousins garage sale from 2012, anyway. But it had charm. I knew I was gonna miss that bike for the good couple of hours, possibly days, I would reluctantly end up leaving it in a repair shop down the street from my apartment.

I can hear the squelch of skin, the seal between my hot breath and sweaty skin breaking as lift my helmet from my head. I hope to feel a rush of cool air, but the humidity tells me to go fuck myself. I'm pulled over onto the curb. I can't totally remember how I got there; being in the middle of the street on a scorching summer day wearing denim shorts that chafe up my inner thighs and rub my skin until it is raw and red and unbearably itchy, was not my vision for today. My handlebars are loose. That would explain it.

If I just take it to Born Free Cycles, leave it overnight, and come back in the morning, I can act like this whole thing never happened, and I'm not horribly irresponsible.

40th West View Ave.

Oh. I'm close actually. Barely a block away. I should go there now. I can call Mikey and have him drop me and the bike off at the garage. I'll see that kid with the grown out buzz-cut and black motor grease on his knuckles that somehow always transfers and blots on his face. Specifically on his strong jaw and right before the peak of his hairline. I wonder if he notices. Maybe he doesn't clean it off because it gives him edge that he doesn't need. Like the nickname on his name tag on a black uniform hadn't given his thirst for trouble away already. And the circles under his eyes are almost the same shade of smudged charcoal grey.

I wonder if he notices.

—

"So the engine cover popped? Just—" he shrugs, looking up at me as if I can't understand him "clean off?"

The sunlight bleeds in through the open garage door. It shines behind Lip, casting a shadow that makes his face hard to see perfectly. But I know the look he's conveying. His eyebrows are raised but drawn slightly closer together, his teeth are gnawing at the inside of his cheek so he can stifle a smile and the laugh that will follow soon after, and his blinks remain slow. I try not to smile too. But I fail.

I've only been here about 3 times, really. The first time was to get handlebar grips from Eddie. That was when I saw Lip. I chose not to make any kind of move, but it ate at my insides until the second time. That time was with Mikey. I was preoccupied with the blue-eyed kid, propped up on a workbench and throwing mindless flirty implications at him while he took long drags from a cigarette, to remember why Mikey was even doing there and why he dragged me along with him. His laugh, the playful eye-roll after I complimented his sweat-laden blonde curls weighed down by heat humidity, told me he was on board.

But I wasn't done.

I knew this time I'd pounce for what was mine.

"Yeah," I breathe out, crossing my arms and peering down at him, "And I mighta' been redlining the RPM a little too much. Probably fried the fucking thing."

Lip nods, the corner of his mouth curling up just a bit. He beckons his hand toward himself, telling me to kneel down beside him to inspect the bike. "This things kinda old, huh?" He teases, turning his head to me and finally letting a real smile break. It warms something in me. I shrug. He glances at my white tank-top, covered in black stains of dirt and oil.

"It's not great, no. It's a piece of shit. But it's cute!" I play along with him, taking the hairband on my wrist and twisting my hair into a high ponytail. Lip huffs though his nose, shaking his head and laughing again.

The next couple of minutes are filled with him telling me things I already know. Things I was too exhausted to manage on my own, defeating the whole purpose of why I was here. Fuck the bike. I know what's wrong with the bike. I know it's an old piece of junk and it's barely salvageable. You should know why I'm here. And maybe you do. But you should do something about it.

Lip has this way of speaking to me that feels ridiculously sweet and overly 'cool.' I know it's just his cadence and his cockiness, but I like it. I like that he thinks it makes me swoon. Partially because he's right, but mostly because I've mastered hiding it. He doesn't see my heart pound or the rising heat in my abdomen when he cracks his knuckles or puts a hand on my shoulder and let's it travel down to the small of my back when I crouch down beside him to look at another motorcycle he's trying to save. I'm almost certain he convinces himself that my gestures are nothing more than a meaningless flirt. I simply find him attractive, as does everyone. Nothing more.

But he's got it all wrong.

He knows my intentions somewhat well enough to the point where he can't not flirt back, though. He knows I haven't stopped him from letting his eyes travel from mine to my lips whenever I speak. He likes that I let him light my cigarettes for me. But he doesn't know this isn't just for fun. I'm so hyper-aware that it isn't out of the kindness of his heart. And neither are his compliments and lame jokes he makes to impress me. He treats my attraction to him as fact, but my genuine interest as a possibility.

Again, he's wrong.

I can't wrap my head around how he could reciprocate my efforts without ever pushing the envelope and asking to exchange numbers, or if I had a boyfriend, or maybe he had one of his own. No, no. He'd tell me if he had a girlfriend. He is, above all else, loyal.

Lip's what I want. I meant when I said his hair looked nice. I meant when I gave him a 20-dollar gratuity and a peck on his cheek just for giving me a repair cost estimate on my shattered headlight. I smile any time he says my name: Maeve.

Hey Maeve, back so soon, huh?

Hand me that box, Maeve.

Y'alright, Maeve?

Yo, Maeve, wanna bum one?

Maeve, Maeve, Maeve.

—

"Think you'll be back tomorrow to pick it up? No rush, though. I can keep it 'till you're ready," Lip asks me, leaning against the wooden workbench littered with microfiber towels and tools. His swell arms are crossed to his chest. I nod, coating my fingertips with a thin film of spin while I fish out some cash from my beat up faux leather wallet.

"A-huh. Thanks," I hand him 6 twenties before glancing at the opening of his button-down uniform.

The corner of my mouth lifts itself into a knowing smirk, my hand on my hip as I shift my weight to it, making my chest stick out and my spine bend correspondingly. My lips hang open a measly centimeter apart before I draw the bottom one between my teeth. I watch him sort through the cash, biting down harder on the flesh of my lip when he freezes.

"Looks like you're a good 15 short," he barely mumbles, looking up at me through his eyelashes. His brows narrow down to me again. I click my tongue coyly. I step closer to him, my hand, with fingernails painted black, pushing the cash in his palms down and his arms down with it.

"About that..." I pause, tilting my head with a look of naivety and not bothering to push away the strand of hair that has fallen from my ponytail and over my eye. Instead, I wait and let Lip set the pile of cash down and draw the curtain of my hair open to reveal my face. My stomach twists on itself, and I can practically feel his chest rising and falling with every anxious breath in my own lungs.

I beg to whatever higher power lies above us in this garage that a kiss will work. Not that it usually doesn't, but my form isn't as confident as it typically would be. The guys I wrap around my finger aren't as driven as Lip is. And God, none of them are part of my tantalizing daydreams nearly as often as he is. I picture his rough hands exploring me, squeezing and rubbing over the valleys of my skin. I imagine his breath is hot with the taste of mint and cigarettes. Every part of me wants to know if my predictions are accurate. If he's the type to sink his teeth into my neck and shoulder blades just to apologize to the reddening skin with open-mouthed kisses. The anticipation kills me. It's enough to swallow me whole.

"...Maybe I can pay you back a different way?"

I barely whisper and Lip scoffs, glancing away from my gaze, scanning the area just for it to be completely empty. He comes back to me. His eyes go a little wider than before. Almost to say, 'oh shit, you're serious?' I stick my tongue between my teeth and tug on his uniform, feeling the fabric rub between my sweaty fingertips. My eyes watch Lip's adam's apple bob as he swallows a breath.

"Yeah?" He thumbs my bottom lip and pulls it down, his free hand traveling down to my hip and pulling me closer to him, "what were y'thinking, Maeve?"

"Mmmm," I hum while pressing my hand against his chest while the other cups his cheek, and I let the pad of my thumb graze over the grove of his defined cheekbones. "Dunno yet."

My teasing is much to Lip's dismay, but he handles it quite well. It's sobering to see a guy as seemingly self-involved and easily impressed play into my mind games. It only pushes me further, and he knows it. I crash my lips into his, my hands anchoring themselves on his shoulders for support. He sighs into me, a hand reaching down to hook a finger through the belt loop of my shorts and drag me closer to him. His hand cups my cheek and pulls me into his mouth to let his tongue slip past my own. And he tastes just as I expected. Minty, smoky, and mine. I practically grind my self onto him in complete desperation, feeling him harden under me. Every roll of his hips threatens to send me over the edge. And fuck, his muffled groans of pleasure against my mouth that ring in my ears are hypnotic. But even with his sturdy, growing buldge forcing the fabric of my shorts to press roughly on my clit, I need this to last.

Blissfully and ever so slowly.

I finally pull away to catch my breath, the buck of our waists slowing down. My head feels fuzzy and heat rises in my cheeks when I open my eyes to see how flushed Lip's face is. Even the tips of his ears have turned a little red. I smile, giggling like a teenager who just kissed her crush in a closet at a house party as a dare. He laughs back in a way that asks 'what are we even doing?'

"Thought you had a boyfriend."

I pause, my eyebrows knitted. I try to think of who he could possibly be referring to.

Ah.

"Who? Mikey?" I try not to laugh, looking around to the imaginary audience to check if they're really hearing this nonsense too, "ew, no. He's like my brother."

Lip lets out a breath of relief he almost didn't realize he'd been holding. It surprises me. Probably a lot more than it should. But hey, for the other 3 times I've been here, I kept asking myself why his flirting was just as intense as mine, but he never asked for my number or made a true move on me. To think that my friend had been unintentionally cockblocking me with his ridiculous height and horrid American traditional tattoos all over his arms, and it wasn't because the guy had a girlfriend...it's almost funny.

"Oh," he replies, his eyebrows raising. Now both of his hands rest at my hips.

"What? Is that why you left me hangin' when I did this?" I press a kiss against his cheek, my palm rubbing over his shoulder to pull a chuckle out of him.

"I guess so, yeah. Just didn't want him to kill me for getting to close t'you," he kisses my cheek, smiling again.

"Geez. Mikey wouldn't hurt a fucking fly. He just...looks scary. Plus, nobody tells me what to do."

"Noted. Glad to hear that, actually."

"Mikey is—" I pause, biting the inside of my cheek "a sweet guy."

"Uh-huh."

"Too sweet. And I hate the aftershave he uses. He's—he's entirely too much."

"Mm."

"Whatever. Shut up."

"Didn't say anything," he shrugs, trying and failing to act clueless.

Fuck. He's fucking glad. He's glad I don't have a stupid-waste-of-my-time-cockblocking-boyfriend on my hip who's constantly watching my every move and stopping me from giving all of myself to Lip. Hell, I'm glad too. Very glad. With one swift movement, I take matters into my own hands again. I undo every last plastic button on his uniform, snaking down his chest and abdomen. I latch onto his neck, biting the skin and sucking a bruising hickey. He shivers beneath me and wraps his hand around my ponytail, huffing breathless chuckles and slowly getting more and more frustrated with my agonizingly slow, torturing pace for foreplay.

I bend my knees to begin my descend to the ground, kissing down his torso. My hands travel down his sides. Lip gently lets go of my hair to lean back into the workbench, never letting his head reel back so he can carefully watch me tenderly adhere to his needs while anchoring his hands behind him for support. I giggle to myself, relishing in the affect I have on him.

Shit. This is risky. Screw it. Pretty girl without a boyfriend who tips in 20 dollar bills and blowjobs? How could I say no? No part of me wants to back out, Lip's mind races, his grip tightening on the wooden slab as he clenches his jaw.

I wonder if he's nervous. Or maybe he's done this time and time again: fucking a girl right in this garage. Possibly bent over this very work bench. Those girls must've been so easy. I can bet on my life that they were never as fun, never as wet, never as needy as me. This would be different. I wouldn't give him everything he wanted and more that quickly. A girl deserves to have her fun. She deserves to watch the overly confident guy she's fancied for weeks, who continues to play hard to get, squirm and writhe with every slight of hand she gives him.

And that's exactly what I'm doing.

"Y'having fun down there?" Lip chastises me, chuckling lightly to himself as he tilts his head down to get a better look at my face.

My kisses stop right above the waistband of his jogger pants. I look up at him pleadingly through my lashes, my eyes big with lust and cunning seduction. I pull the middle of the waistband down just so I can drag my tongue across the exposed skin just centimeters away from his cock. The curls of his happy trail tickle my chin, but the full body shiver and the shaky exhale of "fuck," as he tries to keep his composure, makes it so worth it. He finally shuts his eyes, head reeling back. I lick my lips and smile, cupping his groin before he can even think about looking back down and feeling the blood rush to his cock again. His twitching dick underneath my palm sends me sitting on my heel, ready to slowly rock my hips down into it to fill my desperate need for friction. My cotton panties are definitely soaked.

I can't waste any more time.

I remove my hand from his crotch and quickly pull his pants and his boxers down with them. They pool at his ankles, and his cock strains hard and leaking sticky, crystal clear pre-cum from the thick and aching tip. My mouth nearly drops. I admire every vein, letting my hand wrap around the base of his cock once I've spit into it as makeshift lubricant. I'm so lost that I don't even register Lip peering down at me, swallowing impatiently.

"My, you're so worked up, Lip. And I haven't even started." I don't bother to look up at him as I rub my hand up and down his shaft, worried his pretty face will distract me. But I can picture him perfectly.

"Fuck you," he huffs through a struggled laugh, covering his mouth as he groans in pleasure at the feeling of my hand squeezing his cock every once and a while as I slowly pump him up and down.

"Later," I retort. I bite down on my bottom lip, looking up at him again for permission. He nods, almost as if he's able to read my mind. My eyes shut and my stomach flutters. Soft lips cover the head, swirling my tongue over the slit. His tip leaves my mouth with a loud pop, and I lick a bold stripe along the thickets vein I can find.

"Jesus, fuck, Maeve!" He writhes, his breath hitched in his throat by me hollowing out my cheeks and taking nearly 3/4 of his total length into my mouth. Moans of pure bliss at the feeling of his cock enveloped by the wet warmth of my mouth echo through the garage. I fear he's too loud, but I decide not to care. Not now.

My hand pumps the rest of his cock that I don't fit into my mouth at the moment, while my free hand reaches for his. My eyes remain closed and my sucking maintains a steady pace as I bob my head up and down his cock. I grab his hand and set it on the top of my head, but he hesitates.

"W—you sure, Maeve? I don't wanna hurt you," he swallows, accidentally bucking his hips into my mouth and running his unoccupied hand through his sweaty curls. I detach myself from him, wiping the mixture of pre and spit from the corner of my mouth and finally looking up at him.

"You won't," I take a deep breath, "I won't let you. I'll tell you if 's too much, kay?"

"Okay. Maybe just—" he clears his throat "tap my leg 3 times? And I'll...uh—I'll let go? Yeah?" He looks beautiful. Flushed, bare, and oh so needy for my touch. I wish I could keep him like this forever. He's so compliant, so understanding. But part of me knows that once I let him do this, it'll show me the side of him I've really been praying to see.

I nod, smiling contently and feeling myself blush when he twirls his fingers around my ponytail again. He bends over just the smallest bit to cup my chin and smile back. The pad of his thumb grazes over my skin before he lets go. I take it as my sign to go back, pressing my hands against either of his thighs and feeling clit jump with excitement when Lip tugs at my hair the moment I take his cock into my mouth again. I bob my head up and down, my eyes rolling back when his tip hits the back of my throat. Tears prick at my waterline as I struggle not to cough.

I grow even more desperate. My hand dives into my shorts and I slide two of my fingers inside of me, unfortunately never living up to the potential size and feeling of Lip's. The continuous ram into my gummy and tender spot causes me to fall apart, whining with his dick occupying the space in my mouth.

"Oh my God," Lip nearly whines, his grip tightening as he guides my head up and down his dick, but it's so gentle it never startles me, "so fuckin' good, baby. Jesus, fu—ah..keep doin' that. Yes, fuck.."

My tongue swishes over and under his cock in mind-numbing patterns, and I can't help but let little muffled moans escape my throat and vibrate against him. He almost can't contain himself: bucking his hips and practically fucking my throat. I do my best to cancel out the occasional gag so quickly he won't feel guilty and possibly stop.

Use me, I think.

Usually, I'd take the lead, never letting a head pusher take the role. But not this time. Lip's so pent up, so stressed with the complexities of his life. This is a kind gesture. One that involves tears of struggle spilling out of my eyes and streaming down ky cheeks. But fuck, I love it. It's filthy. It's nasty the way I nearly suck him dry. I can't remember the last time a blowjob was this fun.

"Such a good girl. Y'know that?" He looks down at me, biting his lip as his eyebrows knit in pleasure and desperate need to cum down my pretty little throat, "how'd you get so fuckin...so fuckin' good at this, baby? Shit—feels so good."

He babbles over and over again, and I'm taking strategic breaths through my nose and speeding the pace of my fingers as they thrust in and out of me so I don't stop him from releasing the way he absolutely deserves. Finally, he pulls my ponytail tighter than he ever has, warning me that he's about to cum, but by the time he tells me, it sends down my throat. He groans out, releasing my hair and going limp. I swallow the salty substance, blinking out the last few tears in my eyes and sliding my fingers out of me.

—

Lip: 1 message.

Hey. 11:47pm

Hey. Miss me already? 11:52pm

Something like that, yeah. 11:56pm

What's up 11:58pm

I get off early tomorrow. Just wondering if you wanted to come by the shop and hang out for a bit? 11:59pm

Sure. See you then. xoxo 12:03am.

—

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[i-write-sin-not-tragedy]

Sunlight conviced me to share the new discord pfp set i made of the boys

Angel and my hellsona, Cloud ♡

[ereardon]

The Stranger [Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw left an impression — after finding him naked and passed out after a night of drinking in your front yard, he’s anxious to never see you again in his life and relive the embarrassment. But there’s something about him you just can’t let go. He’s a project, and you hate to admit you love a fixer upper. Bradley is hesitant to let you in, but you’re persistent. Is he making a massive mistake?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC

A/N: This is a sneak peek of an unfinished WIP!

You were pouring your morning coffee, Cracker Barrel mug in one hand and coffee pot in the other, when you spotted him through the edge of the front window. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, peeling back the darkness from the night before, and you spotted what could only be an arm flung across the green grass of your front lawn. 

Stepping out onto the deck, you squinted. The grass was wet from the rain shower that had hit in the early morning and the street was eerily quiet. You looked around. There were no cars parked nearby. 

And yet, somehow there was a fully nude man lying face down on your lawn. 

You put the cup of coffee down gently, slid off your slippers and tiptoed tentatively down the path and onto the grass, bending down to see if you were about to call the cops with a homicide investigation. And then you watched his chest rise with a breath and you sighed out, hand on your heart. 

“Thank God,” you muttered. You stood back up and took him in. He was tall, or long considering he was just laying there in the grass. Curled brown hair, tanned and incredibly muscular arms, back and legs. And a nice fucking ass if you did say so. Leaning back down, you tapped his shoulder. “Um, hi?” 

The man groaned but remained on his stomach so you circled your fingers around his upper arm and shook harder. 

“Hello? Excuse me.” 

“Shit,” the guy groaned, rolling over and flopping onto his back, giving you a clear view of his package. Your eyes went wide, but you couldn’t tear yourself away. He also had a perfect six pack, but you were staring a bit south of the border. He rubbed his eyes and finally looked up at you. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Caroline,” you said, crossing your arms. “And you’re naked, by the way.” 

“Fuck,” he said, scrambling to cover himself and then wincing in pain, one hand coming up to his head. 

You shook your head and sighed, uncrossing your arms and shrugging off your blue robe. “Here, put this on.” 

He stood and accepted it, tying it around his waist but it was tight. “Thanks.” 

“Come inside,” you said, turning on a heel and heading back toward the walk. “You can take a shower if you want. Call someone to come get you.” 

He followed you, head hung. “Where am I?”

You grabbed the coffee mug you had deserted on the steps and opened the door. “You’re on Miguel Ave. A few blocks from the golf course.” 

He nodded and stepped inside. You pointed up the stairs. “Take a left at the top of the stairs. Guest bath is the third door on the right. There should be towels and a bigger robe if you need it.” 

He stepped onto the stairs and then turned around, giving you a quizzical look. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m a stranger. I’m a naked stranger.” 

You laughed. “You think I haven’t seen my fair share of drunk idiots? I went to Tulane. I knew what happened to you the minute I saw you.” 

He simply nodded and ascended the stairs. You chuckled and walked into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, there were cautious footsteps in the hallway beyond the kitchen and you turned around to see the guy from the lawn wearing your ex’s old flannel robe, his dark hair damp but clean. He had a mustache and a uniquely handsome face. You wouldn’t have immediately called him attractive if it wasn’t for how he carried himself. Even hungover and wearing a bathrobe in a stranger’s home, he had a charisma you could sense through his walk alone. 

“Take a seat,” you said, motioning to the dining table and he nodded, sitting down. You slid a cup of water and a cup of juice over, and then a mug of coffee and a plate of bacon. “Do you eat meat?” 

He chuckled and grabbed a slice. “Definitely.” 

“Good,” you said, returning to the stove and pulling off the pan of eggs, dropping some scrambled eggs into a dish and walking over to the table, taking the seat at the end and pushing one bowl of eggs over to him. “So, remember anything yet?”

He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth, chewed thoughtfully. “Bits and pieces. I want to say it involved a dare and a bottle of Jack Daniels.” 

You laughed and took a sip of coffee. “God, how old are you?” 

He smiled and you realized just how attractive of a smile it was. “I’m Bradley,” he said. 

You nodded. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” he asked. 

“I told you outside?” 

He shook his head. “Fuck, sorry.” 

“Caroline,” you offered and he smiled. 

“Caroline,” he repeated. “Nice name.” 

You leaned back in the chair. “Do you need to borrow my phone?” He nodded and you unlocked your phone, sliding it across. You didn’t even realize until he stared at the home screen for a moment that it was still a picture of your ex and his dog. 

“Boyfriend?” he asked, lifting the phone into his large hands and scrolling for the dial pad. 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. I keep forgetting to change it.” 

He nodded carefully and hit a few buttons, bringing the phone up to his ear. “Bob, hey, it’s Rooster. Listen, I uh, I need a ride. Yeah, one second.” He pulled the phone away. “What’s your address?” 

“4502 Miguel Ave.”

He repeated the address into the phone. “Oh, and bring me some clothes, please.” You heard laughing on the other end of the line before he hung up. He slid the phone back to you. “Thanks. He should be here in fifteen minutes.” 

“So which is it?” 

He squinted at you. 

“You introduced yourself to me as Bradley, but whoever Bob is, and he has a great laugh by the way, apparently knows you as Rooster.” You slid your eyes over him. “Are you a stripper?”

“What?” he asked aghast and you laughed, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Cool if you are, no judgment here.” 

He shook his head, biting off another piece of bacon. “I’m a pilot. It’s a callsign. A sort of nickname.” 

“Pilot, huh?” 

[i-write-sin-not-tragedy]

THE GIRL!!♡♡ I WAS SO HAPPY TO DRAW HER FOR YOU!♡♡♡

Hell's favorite video game streamer, drawn by @i-write-sin-not-tragedy

meet sunlight my hellsona :3 her hobbies include video games, helping Cloud with his prank war against Niffty and annoying Vox.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER POSTING I JUST REALIZED SHE HAS FRECKLES OMGGGGG

[schoenht]

In Every Lifetime

SHAKESPEARE MONOLOGUE, GO !

《 previous | masterlist | a little fixer upper 》

a/n: TRIPLE UPDATE BAY BEEEEEEE dont ever say i dont spoil yall /j anyways i guarantee you that the Date chapter is gonna be written bc i said so <3 plays date plan a to z (sobs i love that song sm and everyday we are ROBBED from nagisa being in that unit.)

taglist: @taruruchi @idiaia @starchilll @h0n3ysgh0st @yumixxn @kalims @sakuram1nt @proximitybobomb @shiemori @fluffimemes @meigalaxy @kaechannn @ravenkake @unlikelyinternetprincess @magical-mace @lifeless-bug @atl4ntxc @pyrrhicgaze @chay2 @everettelz @voreaux @yelshin @kahunap @tingerines @teamoymas @pastellepastary @mochimiyaas @i-have-a-lot-of-ocs @sxftiebee @eccedentesiast-sapphic @kenma-izhu @twisted-jamil @bre99 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @yuchanyuna @faeryarchives @musclefanatica @stormyovent0aster @fangirl-d-blog @iameliseposts @minkyungseokie @skintights0cks @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @sugarrush-blush @kalims-pessimist-bestie @stupidwingboy @simp-incoming @kurenix @alex-the-bee

REMINDER: taglist is open! you will be tagged on the reblog however bc tumblr gave me a mf limit BYE but if i cannot, I'll try and tag you on the comments !!

[girlkissergideon]

OK my idea so far!!!! im throwing this all together on personal discord server sorry if its messy

TITLE:

ONCE UPON THE OPEN SEAS

i might workshop the title </3

I am keeping them as they are they dont turn human or anything, and while they tend to fight with weaponry im not totally removing their powers from them. for funsies.

JOBS

gricko : captain (its a fun idea) , musician/"musiker"

kremy : quartermaster, cook, shares "boatswain" jobs with frost

frost : cartographer/pilot, acts as a surgeon if it's needed, shares "boatswain" jobs with kremy

(kremy and frost are at the helm/sailing most often)

gideon : carpenter, master gunner / works with artillery(fun job with fire powers lmao), does a lot of the heavy lifting obviously...

torbek : doesnt quite have a "named job", as he finds his joy helping out anywhere he can. he is the one that takes up crows nest/lookout duty though.

twig : sailmaker, helps gideon with carpenter work, helps kremy on very rare occasion with cooking. does a lot of fixer uppers and likes to add her own flare to things with excess sail scrap.

i like to think they modified the boat like cat owners add shelf-steps and tunnels on the walls of their house so she can get around.

umm feel free to ask questions or offer up ideas maybe !!!! i will be adding ocs to this because umm. yeah<3 !!!! i wanna talk about this im having fun