#i forgot how fun sticker making is

[mothscotch]

merch comes tomorrow.... yay !

original below c:

i love doing off related things for my class assignments >.>

[squishosaur]

the guys for your viewing pleasure & future reference

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[redrose10]

Yoongi x Female Reader. Arranged Marriage AU.

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism, slight mention of bullying and abusive relationships

Word Count: 2,306

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Yoongi was in kindergarten the first time he saw you. One of the bullies was making fun of you for having a Barbie lunch box. They took it and threw it down into the mud while laughing and pointing. He saw your lip begin to shake and it broke his heart. He knew what it felt like to feel alone and hurt. He walked up shoving the biggest of the bullies to the ground knowing he would probably get suspended for fighting, but he didn’t care. Silently he picked up the bag and took it to the bathroom where he washed off the mud the best he could. You thanked him with a shy smile and gave him your last sticker before you went on your way. He stared down at the glittery star and he didn’t know it yet, but that was the beginning of his crush on you.

In the sixth grade he went to every one of your basketball games. Your team was named The Shooting Stars, fitting he thought. His friends would tease him about why he wanted to waste his time watching girls play. He would laugh it off and say that he had to be there for volunteer hours or something. His friends weren’t really quite bright enough to question it so they let it go. Secretly he watched you with admiration and cheered every time you scored a basket. After every game he would be waiting by the exit where he would hand you a bottle of water and congratulate you either for the win or for trying your hardest if you lost. You would always get giggly and blush even harder making his stomach fill with butterflies.

In high school he tried to ask you to the senior dance, A Night Under The Stars. He bought the biggest bouquet of roses he could find and wrote a cute little note sticking both of them in your locker. He stood just a few feet away pretending to be busy rearranging his own locker. You pulled the roses out with wide eyes shocked at how beautiful they were. Yoongi was shaking with nerves as he peaked over seeing that you were reading the note.

“Ooohhhh who are those from?”, your best friend asked.

“I don’t know.”, you shrugged, “Theres no name.”

Yoongi felt like he was going to throw up. In his nervousness he forgot to sign his own name. A dumb mistake.

You never did figure out that it was him that placed the roses in your locker. He went to the dance with some girl he can’t even remember because he spent the whole night staring at you.

After high school the two of you went your separate ways. You went to college. He heard from a friend of a friend that you majored in early childhood education and were now a preschool teacher at Little Stars Academy. That suited you.

Yoongi on the other hand was put through the wringer. His parents worked hard to turn him into a successful and feared businessman so that he would be primed and ready to take over the the family company one day.

He didn’t know if it was the cutthroat business world or the fact that he realized he was nothing more than a pawn to his parents, but over time he became cold, hardened, and distant. He didn’t have much of a care for anyone in the world other than himself. He lived and breathed for business and making money. That was it.

Then on his 30th birthday his parents invited him over for a dinner. A small part of him got excited that maybe they actually did care about him as a son and not just an heir that they needed. But instead of balloons or a cake or even simply a card, he was handed a contract by his parent’s lawyer. Yoongi was required to be married by the end of the year or he would forfeit over all of his rights to the company and they would pass it on to his oldest cousin. They were kind enough to include a clause in that contract that he could either find his own bride or marry the woman they had picked, Kim Aera. Yoongi’s head started pounding at the thought of being married to her. She was loud, obnoxious, and pretentious. He would rather be married to a grizzly bear than her.

So after a couple of months and with much pestering from his parents without really thinking he threw out your name. It was the only one he could think of.

To his surprise his parents were okay with it. Of course they only saw the headlines though, “CEO Marries Sweet Preschool Teacher.” It would make people fall in love with him and that meant more money. An even bigger surprise was that you also agreed to it. The two of you hadn’t spoken since high school so he fully expected you to not even remember him.

He had heard from his friend of a friend that you were in a tough spot. Your mom passed away shortly after you graduated. Your dad became an alcoholic and you went no contact. You were struggling financially and stuck in an unhealthy border line abusive relationship. So when Yoongi offered you an out you took it.

Things moved pretty quickly after that. The two of you met for dinner quite often and then to go over things for the wedding a few more times after that. You wanted the colors to be navy and white with hints of gold. It reminded him of the stars in the night sky. Yoongi liked that. You wanted the cake to be a lemon cake with a raspberry filling. Yoongi hated raspberries, but he agreed because the way your face lit up when you tasted the sample made his heart race. You wanted no alcohol thanks to the bad memories it gave you about your father. Yoongi thought that a wedding without alcohol was blasphemy, but agreed and even stood firm when his parents tried to argue. He wanted to be your safe space and your comfort and he was going to make sure that happened.

As the months went on and he spent more and more time with you he could feel his cold heart starting to warm. The two of you would often sit outside on the balcony of his penthouse late at night staring at the sky.

“If you were to wish upon a star right now what would you ask for?”, you would question him.

He would look at you with a raised eyebrow, “I thought that the wish wouldn’t come true if you told someone?”

“That’s for birthday candles. Stars are different.”, you would laugh.

Yoongi would reach for your hand and smile, “I would rather not risk it.”

After you came back into his life he smiled and laughed more. Greeted his employees good morning much to their confusion. He didn’t drown himself in work because he actually looked forward to going home to you and hearing about your day. In a few short weeks he would be getting married, something he never imagined doing. For the first time in a while he was genuinely happy.

But things started taking a turn. He had to work up until the day before the wedding. His company had lost a major bidding war to buy a smaller lesser known although important company. It was not only a financial loss, but also an embarrassment. His parents were livid and taking it all out on him calling him stupid and useless and wishing they had a son to be proud of. On top of that the venue called wanting to know where to store the fifty cases of whiskey and wine his parents had ordered behind his back. The florist called and said there was a shortage on hydrangeas so all of the arrangements would need to be redone and they weren’t sure if they could do it on time. And to top it all off the baker called and cancelled last minute and no matter how many bakeries he called he couldn’t find one able to make the lemon cake with raspberry filling in time for the wedding.

When he finally he got home he was frustrated and angry and hurt. You came to greet him with a nice warm cup of coffee like you usually did, but this time your foot got caught under the rug sending you flying forward. The dark brown liquid spilling all over his favorite suit. That was enough to push him overboard. The old cold, hard Yoongi had returned and he didn’t care who his words hurt. It was like his brain blacked out for a moment.

“Cant you do anything right?!”, he spat, “You are such a waste of space. What benefits do you bring? All you’ve done is mess everything up. I can’t believe that out of all of the people in this world I have to marry someone like you tomorrow.”

Yoongi watched as your lip began to shake just like it did in kindergarten when the bullies threw your lunch box in the mud. Back then he was your rescuer, but right now he was no better than the people that hurt you.

“Y/N…I.”, he tried after realizing what he had said, but you pushed past him and into the bathroom locking the door behind you.

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning he entered the venue fully expecting ti find out that the wedding had been called off. But to his surprise you were there in the back room getting ready. He tried to apologize then, but was whisked away to get his own hair and makeup done loosing the chance.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. The vows were said, a kiss was shared. The entire wedding party took photos and then it was time for the reception. That’s when Yoongi noticed things felt off. You were distant. You stood off to the side trying to keep space between the two of you. Rarely did he ever see you smile or laugh. It killed him inside to know he was the cause of that, but he couldn’t blame you. He was a heartless jerk and said hurtful things to the one person he cared about.

As the night was winding down he saw you head outside to the terrace area and he took his chance to finally get a few minutes alone with you. He found you leaning against the ledge staring down at the city below. You looked gorgeous standing beneath the stars of the night sky.

“If you could wish upon a star right now what would you wish for?”, he asked after walking up next to you.

You remained silent. It hurt, but he knew he deserved that.

He continued on anyways, “I would wish that I could go back to that day in high school and actually write my name on that stupid note I put in your locker.”, he chuckled, “Then maybe we would have gone to the dance together. And then we would’ve gone to college together. I would have proposed to you on Christmas morning while sitting next to the tree watching the lights sparkle. We would’ve had a small ceremony, just our friends. Bought a house in the countryside. Got a dog maybe a cat too. Maybe even a couple kids if you wanted. I would make you breakfast in bed and dessert by the lake. I would have taken you on vacations all over showing you the world and showing the world how lucky I was. Then when we were old and gray I would take care of you until our last breath making sure you were warm and comfy. And then in my last days I would wish to do that all over again with you by my side.”

He looked over at you noticing you gently wiping underneath your eyes.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”, he said, “I’m sorry for a lot of things. I’m especially sorry for how I spoke to you last night. That was uncalled for and I didn’t mean any of it. You are perfect in every way and just by being here you light up the world. In a world full of darkness you’ve always been my bright star Y/N.”

Softly you leaned in and rested your head on his shoulder as you stared out at the sky. Yoongi thought he might have a heart attack.

“You know what I would wish for?”, you finally spoke after a while. He hummed to acknowledge that he was intently listening.

“I would wish to go back to high school. To that day I saw you putting the roses and note into my locker. I would wish that I would have had enough courage to go up to you in person instead of pretending I didn’t know where they came from because I was too scared to say anything since you didn’t leave your name for me to be certain. Then maybe we both would have turned out differently.”, you said wrapping your arms around his neck. He moved his own arms around your waist squeezing you tight.

“I really am sorry.”, he whispered in your ear, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

In the back of the limo on the way to the hotel Yoongi had you tightly pulled against his side. His right arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both looked out the window watching as the night sky passed by.

“Yoongi look!”, you gasped, “A shooting star. Make a wish!”

He watched as you closed your eyes wishing for whatever it was that your heart desired. He knew he didn’t have to make a wish of his own. He already had everything he could ever want and ever need. But he did it anyways. He closed his eyes and thought of his wish.

“What did you wish for?”, you questioned once you opened your eyes.

“I can’t tell you.”, Yoongi smirked, “If I do it won’t come true and I’m not taking any chances.”

[wanderingcritter]

I forgot to make a post about it sooner lol, but I ended up printing out a bunch of those theta delta stickers I designed a while back! I didn't sell them or anything, just for personal use and to give out to other therians I encountered irl, but I had a ton of fun sticking them up around Washington over the course of a few months so enjoy a quick photo dump :3

If anyone encounters any of these (or others, there's some i didn't include here) out in the real world don't be afraid to shoot me a message and let me know! id absolutely love to see how they're holding up <3 Therian pride 4ever ∞

Also if anyone is curious i used StickerApp to get them printed and would highly recommend to anyone interested in making stickers of their own, they have awesome service and great quality for the price!

[planetdream]

AN EVENING IN THE WOODS !

CHARACTERS ! werewolf!bang chan, human!reader

GENRE ! horror/thriller but barely, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 3.3k

SYNOPSIS ! on a drunken game night, you're dared to take a little stroll through the woods after rumors of a werewolf lurking through the town.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! more thriller than horror i think. mentions of alcohol. being chased/stalked; mentions of being 'kept'. reader desc. wearing long skirt + called 'good girl'. smut [dubcon(?)—reader is basically being used. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possessiveness. [rough] sex in the woods. monsterfucking ig. large cock channie <3. pussy eating. facefucking. cumplay + creampie. belly bulge oops. dumbification(?) growling..] used the word 'beast' a lot oops. it gets weird idk

💌 ngl...i think i forgot how to write smut u guys... this is partially inspired by a brief part in house of leaves by mark z. danielewski, but like, not really at all iykyk. anyway, as u kno, i always appreciate feedback <3

There’s a big difference between vampire hunters and werewolf hunters. The creatures are different from each other in both ferocity and nature; thus, the study and hunt of them will differ based on several factors. Hunters of said creatures are expected to know what to do in situations in which they are faced with such foul beasts. You, quite frankly, are neither a vampire nor a werewolf hunter. Inexperienced to the point where you couldn’t begin to imagine what you would do if faced with anything that is such a monstrous terror, let alone a werewolf. Yet, here you are, prancing around the cold forest like a delicious piece of meat, praying that you don’t cross paths with anything—man or beast.

About a month ago, men and women alike began disappearing from town in the late hours of the night, not to be seen or heard from again. In the following weeks, numbers of missing people have only risen, leading many to believe that there might be a serial killer on the loose. That, however, was only until word got around that a town drunkard had seen what he could only describe as a ‘terrifyingly large rabid dog’. ‘It had to be about six feet tall just standing there’, he said, swearing solemnly, even vowing to quit drinking in an effort to portray his seriousness. The man wept, “It was one of them werewolves. I swear by it.” 

Only from there did word travel through the town. Though, no one believed the drunk old man, laughing at his testimony—‘A werewolf? In this town? That’s impossible’—some treating it as some fable, or a game, even. Which is what leads to you, alone, in the woods tonight. A fun game of truth or dare with your friends—being a chronic truth picker, tonight (with a little liquid courage) you decide that you want nothing but to humor your associates, you chose dare—turns into you blindly making your way into the dark forest with nothing but a lamp, pocket knife, and a few neon stickers to help you make your way back; and that’s only if you’re not murdered. 

By the looks of it, the surrounding forest is empty. The only sounds come from the rustling of tree leaves mingling together due to the wind, the sounds of birds squawking in the far distance, and the snapping and crunching of twigs and leaves beneath your shoes. You trek your way through the trees and dirt extremely unnerved. Nothing has happened at all, and although you’re thankfully still alive and breathing, making your way through the clutter of trees and dead wood, you cannot help but be a bit frightened about the dreariness and uncertainty of the situation. 

It’s a cold night, predicted to snow a bit; temperature dropping lower and lower with each hour that falls. The sun had set a while ago and the purple-orange hue leftover has now faded from blue into black. And while the stars are beginning to show themselves—pristine and beautiful—the dark sky only adds to the dreariness of your walk through the forest. The sudden additional silence is eerie, nature has stilled completely. Although the echo of stillness is inexplicable, unusual; it comforts you—knowing that you would hear your assailant coming, should you come close to being attacked. 

When looking at your watch, you find that you’ve only been in the forest for fifteen of the required thirty minutes—it’s very possible that you can go the distance, turning on your heels and deciding to make your fifteen minute walk back to the edge of the dark forest; and most importantly, to safety. After all, your friends must be worried about you by now; maybe even surprised that you’ve really stuck to the dare. In a matter of minutes, this will be all over and you will be resting at home.

You had to have been walking in one straight direction, right? Maybe because it’s dark, and you, admittedly, have drunk quite a bit, but the placemarkers you remember sticking to the trees along your path are nowhere to be found. The light of your lamp shines against tree after tree, but they remain in their natural state, unchanged. Your eyes widen, heartbeat increasing as you look at the leftover placemarkers you hold in your hand, only six remaining of your original twenty—so you know you’ve used them. 

You stop in your tracks, not willing to venture any further than you already have. Mind racing, scanning and assessing all the possible things you can do, slowly slipping into a panic. You could scream as loud as you can, vocally expressing your need for rescue; but how likely is it that you’ll be heard, especially given how deep into this unchanging landscape you are. Perhaps you can continue walking ahead, only praying that you make your way out unharmed—after all, safety should have been just a fifteen minute walk ahead.

As you lift your foot a few centimeters off of the ground to make your first step, through the darkness of the forest and out of your peripherals, you swear you see a large shadow for just a split second—lurched over and next to a thick tree to your right. A chill runs down your spine and you shudder as you realize the presence of this creature; intimidating and dominant. Taking no chances, feet hitting the ground hard as you sprint through the woods, doing your best to escape this nightmare; real or otherwise. 

The action of running when you feel like you’re being chased, versus running because you are being chased, are quite similar. It’s all instinct, a gut feeling that you jump on, increased heart rate; it’s choosing to flee rather than to fight. The difference, in this moment, you realize, is the definite risk of getting caught. The consequences could prove to be unsatisfactory, at the very least, if you were to be caught by whatever it is that may be following after you. Although, looking behind, there’s nothing in sight—no sign of disaster nor danger. You continue along, albeit a lot slower than before, attempting to catch your breath a bit. Walking off trail just a bit to slow down and assess your next course of action. 

The snapping of a twig within your vicinity has you darting from the temporary hiding place. However, the predator is right on your trail, persisting in its hunt for flesh. You weave your way through the woods, brain firing off about escaping quickly without harm. The chase does not last long, though. One misstep taking you down, tumbling. Briefly, in your panic, you appear to meet eyes with the foul beast. Fear lodged in your throat, dry and brittle—crumbling into tiny little pieces that pester your insides like a million tiny beetles finding a dark, cavernous home. Stomach clenching, seizing as you cower in submission to your terror. Hands buried into the freshly fallen snow—previous footsteps already blanketed over and long gone. Never have you thought you would give up so easily; unsure if you’ve got it within you to fight back in the absolute worst case. 

Body stuck in place, paralyzed with fear once you hear the snow behind you crunch, a sign that the creature is inching closer to you. It’s like your life flashes before your eyes once you feel the snout of the creature pressed against the back of your neck, heat blowing against the back of your neck, followed by a short, deep snarl emitting from within the beast. The large presence behind you is undeniable. The way the creature towers over you is horrifying—a domineering and overbearing sense of power, exuding pride and strength in the form of body heat. It circles you, though you are too terrified to look towards it, despite the daring growl it emits. Heart racing, nearly about to jump out of your chest and run away itself. The creature begins to circle around you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see its feet—huge black paws. Oh great! You’ll be eaten alive. 

But then the feet of the beast turns into man, and slowly you raise your face to get a good look at its true face. He starts off as a blur initially, but the longer you look at him, the more recognizable he becomes. A face you’ve always seen lurking around town. Though despite the area being rather small, you’ve never formally interacted—only stared at each other from a distance then kept it moving. Tonight, however, you finally decided to walk up to him at the local bar whilst with friends, only for him to walk away without a word. ‘Oh, him? Yeah, Chan is just like that.’

“Mmm. What’s that smell?” Chan asks while humming. Arms caging you in against the tree as he presses his nose against your neck, right near a particularly sweet spot. “Smells heavenly. So sweet and delicious.” 

He continues to sniff you out, planting a small kiss to your neck before traveling lower, nose now pressed to the fabric of your clothing. Face pressed in between the valley of your breast, Chan takes a long, deep inhale. His eyes are closed as he pulls back, slightly smirking with clear contentment. Chan takes the material of your shirt pinched between his fingertips before tearing the shirt down the middle, groaning at your now exposed chest. His hands cup your tits, thumbs teasing at your nipples, as he runs his nose down the valley, before swiping back up with his tongue. 

Chan isn’t done, nose still pressed against your skin as he sinks down to his knees. Rough hands cupping your ass, squeezing, as he stops—nose pressed against your mound, breathing you in while trying to pull you closer, finally finding the source of that sweet, heavenly scent. He’s breathing heavily to the point that you can feel his hot breath against your skin through the thin material of your skirt; snarling as he takes in your scent. And he’s mumbling something down there—pussy hungry words about how fucking delectable you smell. Perfect to devour. 

Contrary to the petrifying circumstance, the rush of adrenaline you get in the moment is euphoric and exhilarating. Chan’s touch is hot against you, almost scorching, and leaves you wanting—no, needing more of him. 

He hikes up the long length of your skirt with ease, throwing your leg over his shoulder to force your hips towards his face, diving face first into your cunt. Tongue lapping up hungrily at your wetness, moaning and groaning without a care in the world as he gets the first taste of his meal. Plump lips sucking your clit, vibrating when he moans, causing you to shake and squirm, but Chan has a strong grip against you. He’s messy as he eats you—occasionally breaking free, not for air, but to spit against your cunt—as the lower half of his face is covered in your nectar; which he hopes never washes off, absolutely frenzied by your scent, cock hard and leaking cum, jumping at the thought of finally getting to fuck his cock into this sweet little cunt. 

While Chan is usually a patient man, having no problem in waiting—stalking his prey and then teasing them for hours upon hours on end—he finds himself struck with need. A particular need to feast. To fuck and destroy his prey. Days and days of stalking you, taunting you from afar, and you played right into his palm—obviously fated to be found afraid and lost, deep in his territory. It is at this point he thinks to keep you. Perhaps hide you away somewhere cold and dark where only he’d be able to find you. Keeping you bound to him until he gets sick of you—or until you cease to exist. Aching to fuck you over and over and over again until it becomes too difficult for you to even think about moving a muscle, succumbing fully to his torturous pleasure. He stops himself from thinking too far ahead all too soon, clearly entranced by the sweetness of your cunt. 

Chan springs to his feet; cock heavy, hard and curving to the right, tip swelling red with need and dripping with precum. Your eyes are glued to his cock as you watch him massage his right hand over it; even in his big palms his cock is huge. The excitement to take him spreads from the pit of your stomach and up your chest, visualizing into the form of goosebumps all over your arms. He just laughs at the look on your face; how equally intrigued and dismayed you appear. A perfect little lamb stalked and caught by the big bad wolf, unable to flee due to their own fascination despite their fright. 

Chan leans in, his lips against yours briefly. A hand curling into your hair to bring you down to your knees, you follow suit. His hand stays tangled in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp. With his other hand, Chan strokes his cock, running his thumb over the tip; then pulling your head towards his tip. Eagerly, your tongue slips from your mouth, ready to taste everything he’s giving you. You swirl your tongue around him, but Chan has other plans, slowly sliding his cock into your mouth; helping you savor the slightly salty taste of his seed. Fixing your mouth open as wide as it can go, with both hands now tangled into your hair, he thrusts his cock in and out of your mouth, slowly increasing the speed of his thrust. 

“You just take it like a good girl, huh?” You don’t say anything, but that dazed look in your eye and the moan that escapes from deep in your throat tells Chan all he needs to know. 

“Perfect little mouth, but I bet that pussy is even better.” Chan frees his cock from your mouth with a trail of spit. His hand around his cock once again, the slick sound like music to your ears. Though, it’s at this point that the cold air is starting to get to you—the snow is light but still continuous—yet you power through it for just another taste of Chan. 

“Want you so bad,” You bite your lip, looking into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed together. You stand and stretch to turn your back to him, looking over your shoulder as you wiggle your backside towards him like a bitch in heat. Chan smirks at you, a small laugh erupting from him at the sight of your shamelessness.   

In the heat of the moment, Chan licks the palm of his hand before bringing it down to rub at your cunt from behind. He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear a long, deep snarl come from within his chest. The closer he gets to you, the louder the growl echoes, and the more he warms you with his body heat—caging you in against the tree. You grind into his hand, greedily taking anything he gives you. While Chan is steadily becoming just as impatient as you, he always spares time to play with his food; teasing the tip of his cock against your slit. Chan slowly slides into your cunt—a rough hand clenching onto your hip, nails digging into your skin; not nearly enough to keep him from losing his cool as your wetness encases his cock, wet and tight. 

You’re barely taking half of his dick before the stretch of it nearly becomes too much—but he’s one step ahead of you; arm snakes across your belly and down to your cunt, two wet fingers ready to play with your clit. Chan works his fingers against your clit slowly winding you up, all while planting a quick kiss against your shoulder; tongue drooling out to lick a long wet stripe against your neck. It’s only once he receives a moan from you in response that he starts thrusting into you slowly; the thrusts of his hips syncing with the movement of his fingers. 

It isn’t long before you’re taking more and more of his cock, being stuffed and stretched deliciously. Cunt leaking and begging for more of him. Chan lets out these harsh growls and grunts that contrast with the pitch of your moans. His nails dig into your hips, using a minimal amount of strength to pull your hips back against him, making you meet his thrusts. His hips smack against your ass roughly, cock stretching you further, but your cunt swallows every inch perfectly. That’s only until he slides out of you, wordless, yet, still letting out a snarl. He pushes you onto the ground, hands and knees crashing into the new layers of snow. You yelp out in response, but Chan can only laugh at you. 

“Just letting me push you around like this? I think I should keep you,” He follows you, kneeling onto the ground, cock in hand. Laying  a quick smack at your ass, he hums. “How would you feel about being my little plaything, huh?”

His free hand kneads against your ass while he plays with his cock. “Keep you locked up with me ‘n only let you out in these woods at night, hmm? All cute ‘n naked for me to hunt down and fuck again.”

“And you can’t even hide cause I’ll always find you, pretty.” He finally slides into your cunt, still not letting you have all of him, yet. “How does that sound? Do you like it?”

His words are filthy and so are his touches but somehow he’s got you entranced. You let out a loud, cracked sob of a yes in response to his inquiries as if he bullied it out of you. “Good girl.” 

Chan finally allows himself to break—hips snapping harshly into yours. Not caring if you go limp from the way he’s fucking into you, instead his hands are once again clenching your hips, grinding his hips against your ass whenever he thrusts his cock back into you. Your fists clutching onto the snow as you take his cock, unable to do much but drool and mewl for him. 

He presses his chest across your back, caging you onto the cold ground. His tongue once again flat against your skin, licking every inch of what exposed skin he has access to. Still pounding into you as he chases his impending orgasm. Then he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, letting out a whine rather than the usual growl as he fucks his cum into you. It’s hot, sticky, and heavy—and it seems like it’s unending; seemingly producing more and more as he pumps his cock into you. Slowly Chan reaches a hand down to press against your lower abdomen; feeling how your belly swells with all the cum his cock is feeding your cunt. 

You moan at the feeling when Chan pulls out of you with a sigh of exhaust. Cum coating his cock and spilling out of your cunt, staining your thighs. So much of his seed has spilled out and he’s no longer stuffing you with his cock, but yet you feel so full. Chan continues to incite, two thick fingers dip into your cunt to scoop up and play with the excess cum that’s dripping from your hole. 

Chan pulls you back to him by your arms, caging you against his chest. He whispers to you. “What if we played a fun little game, hm?”

He grips your chin and those same two digits that were once inside of you, force into your mouth, offering you another taste of Chan’s cum. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, “Let’s say, I give you a ten second head start to run.”

Chan kisses the back of your neck and a chill runs down your spine. “The ten seconds start now.” 

He frees you from his hold, and springs to his feet leaving you dumbfounded. But by the time you stand and face the direction of Chan, legs weak and cold, he’s no longer there.

It seems his fun little game has officially started. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[gloomweed]

Eddie Loved Valentine's Day (eddie munson x bestfriend!reader)

a/n: I got the idea for this story last valentine's day, but I didn't finish it until today and I'm still not quite satisfied with it but I had to just get this out there already. This fic is more angsty than romantic, but it didn't feel right trying to shoehorn in some romance, so this is just how it's going to be.

summary: Eddie deals with some bad childhood memories on a valentine's day he spends with you.

w/c: 3.7k

Eddie loved Valentine’s day. Loved, as in, he used to. Specifically, when he was still in elementary school. Back then, the class would spend the whole day creating little mailboxes to hold all their cards. Decorating the recycled shoebox with stickers and markers, writing his name in big scrawling letters over the top. His mom would help him the night before, preparing the cards he was going to hand out. She would tell him how to spell each name, going one letter at a time. When she would ask if he needed help spelling his name, Eddie would hold out his little hand saying very confidently, “No, I know how.” Her voice was always gentle when reminding him ‘Eddie’ has a second ‘D’ after the first one.

Although there was little variety in the pack his mom bought from the store, Eddie made an effort to pick the card he thinks the recipient would like best. A Garfield card for Sindy, since she is always borrowing his orange marker. It’s her favorite color. An Odie card for Josh, since he spends recess digging with sticks and rocks. Something about wanting to find dinosaur bones. It would go like that until all the cards were signed, folded, and held together with little heart stickers.

The following day, Eddie would pass out all his cards and return to his seat to find his makeshift mailbox stuffed. In those days, he would get a card from every single classmate. He’d be filled with excitement as he opened each one. The puns and characters on the cards were fun to see, but really Eddie just enjoyed the thought that someone made him something. Some cards even came with a little candy. It was a fun day all around, and doing less school work was also a big plus.

After his mom passed, Valentine’s day kind of lost its charm. His dad said buying Valentine’s cards that kids were only gonna look at once and throw away afterwards was a waste of money and effort; however, that didn’t stop Eddie from participating anyways. He spent the night making his own cards out of notebook paper, drawing hearts and smiling faces on each one. Despite all the care he put into them, the finished product looked pretty messy. The cards weren’t all the same size, there were some misspelled words, marker ink bleeding through the paper, and since he didn’t have stickers, they were held together with regular translucent tape. Give him a break, he was nine. It wasn’t much, but Eddie put his heart and soul into it.

Once all the cards were passed out, everyone began digging into their boxes, reading cards and opening candy. “What even is this?” Eddie looked up from his pile of valentines to see one of his classmates holding up one he homemade, a disgusted look on their face. Another kid laughed. “Why does it look like that?” Eddie felt red, hot shame fill his cheeks as others began to join in the laughter. He sank further into his seat, wishing to disappear completely. Seeing Eddie’s name on the card gave the boy a target. “What’s the deal, Eddie? Couldn’t afford real valentine’s this year?” 

Eddie shot up from his seat. “No! My dad just forgot to buy them, is all,” he lied. “I just thought, you know, something is better than nothing, right?” His eyes darted between his classmates, hoping they bought it. 

“Next time, don’t even bother. It’d save us the time of throwing them away,” they laughed. It was then that the teacher made the announcement to return to their seats to resume the rest of the learning day. As Eddie sat back down he could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. He put a lot of effort into those cards, only for his classmates to laugh at him and throw them away. His dad was right. What a waste.

That was the last time Eddie ever participated in Valentine’s day. Ever since then, he would spend the day doing anything else besides celebrating it. This year, he was at your house helping you get a head start on spring cleaning. You wanted to turn your life around, starting with a more organized living space. February 14th is as good a day as any to get started, and it wasn’t like you had any big plans. Which is totally fine and doesn’t depress you at all. 

Although he never told you exactly why, you knew Eddie didn’t particularly like the Hallmark holiday. You assumed it was because of how commercialized it had become since its inception. Of course it could be the matter of keeping up with his image. Soft petalled roses and candy hearts are pretty far from ‘metal.’ Whatever the reason may be, you hated the idea of your friend being alone on a day celebrating love, so inviting him to clean was the next best thing. While it took some convincing, eventually you coaxed him into it with the promise of beer and snacks.

You were both currently working in your bedroom. Eddie would hold something up and ask if you wanted to keep it or throw it away. Meanwhile, you sit on the hardwood floor creating piles all around you as you sift through the contents of your room. He did most of his work while sitting on your bed, a beer in his hand. 

Sometimes he would try on clothes you were feeling unsure of, saying that having someone model it would make it easier to decide its fate. Of course, this theory might have been successful if they actually fit him. The mental image of him in your too small knitted red cardigan is something that will bring a smile to your face for years to come. 

Running out of things to hold up to you, he looked in his direct vicinity and noticed a round tin by his feet, mostly under your bed. When you heard him gasp you turned to see what he had found. “Oh, that’s just my-”

“Cookies!” he shouted as he opened the blue butter cookie tin only for his face to fall in a confused frown.

You laughed. “Yeah, sorry. I reused that old cookie tin for my sentimental crap.”

Instead of delicious cookies, the tin was full of old birthday cards and handwritten messages left by people who cared about you. A letter from your now deceased grandmother, movie stubs from big releases, and Polaroid pictures of some childhood friends. Eddie smiled to himself. It was cute how you would keep stuff like this. From the outside, you didn’t look like the type of person to hold on to birthday cards from your 5th birthday. He looked at you with a playful pout, his eyebrows pulled together. “Aww. You do have a heart.”

Your offended face only made Eddie grin wider. “Shut up,” you laugh before grabbing the nearest stuffed animal and throwing it at him.

Laughing as he dodged your attack, he couldn’t stop some of the cards from jostling out. As he was gathering them back into the tin, he took a closer look at the one made of notebook paper. ‘From Eddie’ was written on the back in big messy letters.

Noticing his sudden silence, you stand to get a better look at what’s in his hands. You peek over his shoulder to see the valentine he hand made in the 4th grade. Immediately you become overwhelmed with embarrassment thinking Eddie was completely freaked out by the fact you kept the card so long, like some kind of stalker weirdo. Words vomit out of your mouth as you try to save your dignity. “Oh! That's- that's so weird! I can't believe I still have that. I thought I threw that out years ago. I’ll just take that back-”

Eddie instinctually snatches the card against his chest, his chin tucked in as he searches your eyes. When it's clear to you he isn't going to give it up, your hand falls limp at your side. Glancing at the card once more, he tries his best to keep his voice steady. “You kept this?” 

The change in demeanor feels unsettling. “Yeah, of course I did.” You look at your feet shyly. “It, uh, means a lot to me.” When you look back up, you see Eddie staring back with confusion.

You’ve gone through this scenarios hundreds of times in the late hours of the night when your brain just couldn’t stop running. How would Eddie react if he found out you kept something he made you when you were kids? The scoff that slips past his taunting lips was the last thing you expected from Eddie. He stands from the bed, looking down on you with a humorless smile. “This shitty scrap of paper means a lot to you?” The sudden scrutiny feels harsh and full of malice. You’ve never had the displeasure to be on the receiving end of Eddie’s anger, and from what little you’ve seen thus far, you hope to never face it again.

Shrugging like it was no big deal, you try your best to downplay your defensiveness. “Well, yeah. I thought it was really sweet of you.” You can’t stop yourself from squinting at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, are you mad at me for keeping it?” Why is he upset with you over this? It was given to you as a gift. You should be able to decide what you do with it without his approval. 

Despite being the one who asked the question, Eddie doesn’t really hear your answer, nor the following question. As he stares down at the messy writing on old, yellowed notebook paper, he feels his chest tighten in an overwhelming stifled rage. Having to be face to face with a reminder of his failure fills Eddie with so much self-hatred that he can’t think straight. It’s a reminder of his shitty dad. A reminder of his shitty childhood. It wasn’t fair. Every imperfect line and patch of bleeding ink stared back at him, mocking him. It all congeals to a point of no return in his gloomy head.

Eddie stares in silence for a moment too long and you can see the emotions shift in his face into something darker. “What are you-” You are cut off by the sound of a quick and quiet crunch, the paper crumpling in his first. It’s a knee jerk reaction that has you gasping at the sight, and Eddie immediately regretting. A piece of his heart shatters at the sound of yours doing the same. “Eddie!” Your high pitched squeal of anguish around the syllables of his own name has him filling with that same sinking heat of shame he felt all those years ago. 

Your hands dart at him, taking the paper from his grip as fast as it was destroyed. You do your best to smooth the paper back into some semblance of its former glory, but the creases on the old, thin paper still remain. It makes it difficult to see the handwritten words on the page, especially since your eyes are welling up with tears. You turn away from Eddie, too angry to face him. Too hurt to let him see you cry over this. Instead you kneel on the floor, slumping over the valentine you hold with the same delicacy as you would hold a baby bird with a broken wing.

Eddie feels his heart racing with anxiety. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to make you cry. He didn’t mean to. All he wanted was to get rid of the stupid reminder, not ruin your priceless keepsake. Eddie stands there for a moment, unsure what to do with himself. He fucked up, he knows that, but he doesn’t know how to make it right. Your name falls from his lips in a stuttering mess. “I- I didn’t mean-” 

Whipping your head back to shoot him a teary eyed glare, you cut him off. “Don’t.” A sad shake of your head, “Just don’t, Eddie.” You didn’t want to hear how he was just trying to make some kind of joke. It wasn’t funny. It was just cruel. You turn back to stare at the ruined item in your cupped hands.

Eddie backs up towards the door, eyes wide and voice small. “Sorry.” You don’t say anything, but of course he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him. He leaves you be, silently making his way out of your house. 

On the drive home, he’s mentally kicking himself the entire time. Why did I do that? What is wrong with me? Why do I have to find a way to ruin everything? When he pulls into the gravel driveway of his uncle’s trailer, he cuts the engine and contemplates in silence.

He has to make this right. That valentine meant something to you. You kept that shitty scrap of paper for years while the rest of the class threw it in the trash where it belongs.  That has to mean something, right? You wouldn’t keep trash for this long unless it was important, right?

Eddie runs a hand down his face as he belatedly processed what you said about him. I thought it was really sweet of you. You thought he was sweet? The tiny compliment is enough to bring a flush to his cheeks, and it only makes him feel worse about the whole situation. It’s going to take more than an apology to make it up to you.

It’s a few hours after the incident when you hear a knock at the door. “Coming!” You yell down the hall as you race to answer it. Seeing your kind smile fall when you realize it’s him, Eddie feels like you twisted a knife in his chest. He’s holding a modest bouquet of flowers towards you, gaze struggling to meet your own. “Well, look who it is.” You lean against the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve got some nerve, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie huffs a sigh, his breath visible in the frosty February evening. “I know. I know I don’t deserve to see you, but you deserve an apology. I came back to explain myself. Not that I had any right to do what I did.” He looks up at you from under his lashes. “Can I come in so we can talk?”

There’s a pout on your lips as you consider. The flowers do look very pretty, and he was thoughtful enough to have your favorite color as the centerpiece. Getting flowers last minute, on Valentine’s Day no less, was likely no easy feat, making the gesture more grand than usual. You hum in thought a moment before finally taking pity on the man practically groveling on your doorstep. “Fine.” You step aside to let him in, looking reluctant to do so. 

Relief washes over him as you make room. The warmth of your home felt like a welcoming embrace upon his bone chilled body. Once the door is closed, Eddie outstretches the bouquet towards you again. “Uh, these are for you.”

Doing your best not to show how pleased you are, you take the flowers from him wordlessly. Eddie turns to walk towards your living room, and you take the moment to smell the sweetness of them while he isn’t watching. You sit on the couch, laying the bouquet on the coffee table for the time being. 

Eddie continues to stand, feeling unworthy of your comforts. It feels reminiscent of when he first visited your home. The awkwardness of being new friends was evident as he stood in the corner, waiting for permission to sit on the couch or even enter the room. Now it’s like he wouldn’t sit even if you asked him to. Eddie preferred to pace while he talked. He has too much energy to expel to be still.

You give him your attention finally, arms crossed again, waiting for the apology he owes you. He clears his throat, hands nervously wringing together. “So first of all, I’m sorry for ruining your valentine. And your Valentine's day, for that matter. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He chuckles dryly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Shit, I wasn’t thinking at all. I just got caught up in my stupid bullshit. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. It was just-” You raise an eyebrow, not quite believing him yet. Eddie releases a breath like it was struggling to get out. “Seeing that valentine I made that everyone gave me shit for…” he sighs again, struggling to find the words. “It just brought it all back. I was a kid again being pointed and laughed at in front of everyone.” 

As he says this, your features soften when you recall what he’s talking about. You heard what some of the other kids were saying about Eddie’s valentines, but at the time you didn’t think he cared what they thought. He was always unapologetically himself to the point that the thought of Eddie being embarrassed or ashamed never even crossed your mind.

Eddie looks at you with a sad tilt of his head, wild curls bunching at his shoulder. “That doesn’t make it right, but I thought you ought to know why I did what I did.” He shakes his head dismissively. “It had nothing to do with you and I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart.” He smiles ruefully, “but you already knew that.” His eyes dim a little at his self-deprecation.

You nod in understanding, a small smile on your face. “I appreciate your apology.” You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him just yet, and you wanted to be sure he realized that.

Although Eddie knew it wouldn’t be easy, he can’t help but feel disappointed he hadn’t earned your forgiveness yet. Regardless, he nods with a tight lipped smile in acceptance before reaching a hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “I wanted to make it up to you,” he pulls an envelope out, “with this.” 

You blink owlishly at Eddie’s outstretched hand, surprised he brought more than flowers. Standing from the couch, you gingerly take the card from him, watching him for any signs of what it might be. 

As you open the package, Eddie is already explaining his reasoning. “Now, I know it’s not the same, and it doesn’t hold the same meaning as the original, but I tried my best to remake it for you.”

Pulling the card from the envelope, you gasp at what you find. The writing is much neater, the drawings more detailed, and even the paper feels like it’s made of thicker material, but there is no doubt that this is Eddie’s reconstruction of the card he destroyed. 

The premise of the card was the same. A penguin (your favorite animal at the time) wearing sunglasses, surrounded by icebergs with bubble letters saying ‘U R COOL’ after your name. The sketches are much more sophisticated than any nine year old could make. It was clear that Eddie had honed his art skills over the years by doodling in the margins of all his school work instead of paying attention in class. But it wasn’t what the card looked like that made it special. It was the thoughtful gesture itself. 

When you look back up at Eddie, he shifts on his feet uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. He’s unsure what to make of your expression. “So, uh. Do you like it?” Before you can answer, he’s already speaking for you with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “You hate it, don’t you? I’m sorry, I know it’s not-”

“I love it.”

His eyes go wide, genuinely surprised. “Yeah?” He perks up when he sees your beaming face. “Really?” Eddie lets out a small ‘oof’ when you crash into him with an enthusiastic hug. His chuckling rumbles against your ear as you hold him tightly. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Parting from the hug, you admire the valentine some more. “And I do forgive you, Eddie. I just wish you would have told me what Valentine’s Day really means to you sooner.” You search his dark chocolate eyes. “We’re friends, right? You know I would never make fun of you like that.”

And Eddie did know that, but in that moment, he couldn’t rationalize his intrusive thoughts away. It’s easier to hear that you’re loved versus actually believing it. All he can muster is a shrug, unable to put his inability to trust into words. “Yeah I know.”

With his unconvincing answer, you try a different approach to get him to understand what he means to you. Wordlessly, you leave the room leaving Eddie standing there wondering what you’re up to. You’re back before he gets the chance to overthink your departure, a picture frame in hand. As you fiddle with the tiny metal prongs holding the backing in place, you begin to explain. “From now on, I’m gonna make sure everyone sees this.” You slot the valentine into the frame before securing the backing once more. 

You hang your trophy in the center of your living room wall. Once you’re satisfied with the results, you take a step back and admire it with your hands on your hips. “There. Now, anytime someone visits me, I can brag to them about the personal valentine you made me.” Looking back over your shoulder, you see Eddie smirking bashfully.

“Oh come on. No one’s gonna want to see that.” He gestures to the hand drawn image, but you’re already shaking your head defiantly.

“Too bad. They’re gonna have to. Matter of fact, I’m gonna require they marvel at it for no less than 60 seconds before they can even enter my home.” Your arms are crossed with a playful smile on your face.

Eddie chuckles and there’s a small pause as he appreciates you. “You’re such a dork,” is his mumbled response.

You point up at the framed doodled penguin adorned in shades behind you with an astonishing amount of confidence. “Not according to my best friend.”

He huffs an exasperated sigh. “That’s it. I’m taking it back.” Eddie starts towards the wall, reaching above you. “You’re not cool anymore.” 

Instinctually, you put your hands on his chest in an attempt to stop him, but Eddie isn’t one to back down. “No! You can’t!” Giggles bubble out of you as you try your best to stand your ground. “I am cool!”

[cowbell-ghuleh]

Birmingham ritual thoughts and spoilers...

So the negative just to get it out the way...

The Queue...

Horrible queue experience... Was directed into the standing only queue, was booted out after an hour. Moved to seated queue only to get stuck next to a transphobe who spent the next hour and a half ranting about trans people, "wokeness", and everyone else being sheep/ NPCs / whatever the buzzword is now... And I'm so annoyed I gave them and their friend one of my stickers... I think I'm gonna be getting VIP where I can from now on, as a lone queer I felt really unsafe. (I have to go to these things on my own as I don't know anyone irl who's into rock.)

On the positive side there was an adorable kid in a Papa Nihil costume, we took photos together, and an amazing Papa IV cosplayer we exchanged glares XD

The concert itself was fantastic!

Had cheaper seats and was further back and higher up but that gave me a better view of the stage, saw so much more this time!

So here's all my thoughts:

I finally got the hear/ see peacefield properly and omg it's amazing!!! The light streaming out of the torn curtains is glorious!

Perpetua's face, he's got a little grin on his face for the majority of the show! (Irl you can tell Tobias is having the time of his life.) The large screens on either side are really high resolution you can see so much expression in their faces! It's fascinating watching the faces Perpetua pulls to get some of the notes.

Papa twirling/ dancing around with the microphone stand at the beginning of Satanized. Adorable.

Perpetua sort of cowers / hides his head under his hands /microphone stand during the Latin part of Satanised. Shys away / cowers when the audience shouts Blasphemy, Hersey. He also literally cowers on the stairs during the guitar solo. Lore people & fanfic writers do with that what you will...

Papa called the audience Brummies at one point, that got a laugh out of me. Looks like Papa did his research. Edit: I remember now it was at the end of KTGG, "All you Brummies, Mwah!"

That being said I swear he said London rather than Birmingham at one point XD papa forgot where he was.

Perpetua did the same / similar "be gentle with me" bit from Manchester. Though when my side of the audience yelled back yes (they would be gentle) he said "see, they're gonna be gentle" or be nice to be, or something along those lines. Then said we can fight it out in the car park after the show...

I'm pretty sure I saw Nihil, or someone in Papal paint, "having fun" with two ladies on either side of him, in the Monstrance clock illustrations.

I heard faith live!!! So happy they played it!!! The grin on my face when the first few notes started playing! Perpetua didn't do Copia's motherf*ckers bit though!

Perpetua did Copia's "No!" during rats, albeit not as dramatically.

Umbra is beautiful, I think it's my favourite on the album so far... I cannot wait for the album to come out so I can listen to it 6,666 times... Also love how Perpetua runs after the instrumental bit in Umbra. The purple/white smoke and lighting during that song is also divine. And I think he was subtly humping the mic stand during part of it... He definitely had his hands framing his crotch...

Dewdrop(? I think it's dewdrop) has a broken foot, two fractures. He had a cast and didn't move much, stayed on the right side of the stage for most of it and sat on the steps for a few later songs. Perpetua asked us to applaud the injured ghoul.

Phantom took over the role as main hypeman for the audience.

Perpetua goes from "marijuana cross" into Dance Macabre by saying "fuck it".

I saw the hat, it is glorious!!! Stayed on fine for year Zero, took it off for He Is.

We got the sparkly bedazzled mask in cirice... It wasn't used in Manchester so I don't know if it was at the other rituals.

The ghoulettes dancing during ritual was adorable!!!

I love how the mask makes the white eye really stand out! So creepy looking!

The hand gestures during Majesty are mesmerising. I loved it when he put his hands over his heart!

Side note, I could see him getting ready on the platform at the back of the stage from where I was while phantom hyped up the audience before Majesty. The robes are way too long to move in they really are like 7-8 foot long irl.

And finally I got completely cleared out of stickers... Except a single billboard one...

Also made some sketches of the Year Zero outfit, especially the hat as I wanna make a cosplay of it...

Edit:

Apparently there was a kiss between Papa & Swiss. I couldn't/didn't see it from where I was sitting though.

Also forgot to mention the cowbell! Papa rises out of the floor during the lead into Umbra holding it aloft like a trophy! Before handing it off to Swiss(?).

[an-eggs-quest]

Can you please make a post about your kevin ( Barnes ) design?

You have no idea how excited I was to see this ask. Considering I was gonna make one anyway…

Here’s Kevin! There’s gonna be a more color accurate version at the bottom of this since unfortunately the markers I needed were dried out :(

I honestly had some trouble with him compared to Matthew but I’m pretty satisfied with the end result!

Anyway! He has some stickers on his vest/over shirt thing of a “Good Job!” Type star, dogday, and a blue smiley face. From this point on it’s getting into fun-thoughts-i-had-while-designing territory so here’s a few more doodles before I start yapping

I like to think his favorite smiling critter was dogday but to avoid being seen as basic he’d say Kickin.

I also like to think he carries stuff in his pockets! Whole lot of trash he forgot to throw out and little toys to hold onto. Like he’s got a whole mess of marbles in one of them, he likes to collect them! They’d probably be rewards in class that he’s gathered over the years. Gets pretty upset if he can’t find one.

He’s kind of a mess from roughhousing so he’s got a couple of scars and actively healing bruises on him. But he’s a tough kid they don’t bother him

I honestly really wanted to give him braces but considering the circumstances I don’t think it would make much sense. In another life perhaps

Anyway color accurate version ft. Shitty doodle:

[tulip-room]

♡˚It's You! ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

"When we wrote these, I didn't think it would be you."

words. 1.5k

It had started out as an idea for all of you to do. Something you had seen on Pinterest and were interested enough to bring the idea up to your friends. You had excitedly turned your phone around and to the surprise of no one, Gojo was the first to agree to the idea. “So? What do we say?” You ask with a smile creeping onto your face. 

“Yes,” Gojo answered excitedly. “I have some paper in here somewhere,” he started going through his bag to find a long forgotten notebook. He let out an ‘aha’ when he found it and threw it down onto the table. “Alright, everyone get a piece of paper.” 

“So, what exactly are we supposed to write?” Shoko asked as she tore out paper, her edges jagged. Geto followed suit and got his own piece of paper. You and Gojo took longer, making sure that the paper was perfectly torn with no stray edges.

“You know.” You pull out glitter pens and stickers. “Things for your future partner, like what you’re currently like and how you hope they are or something. Cheesy stuff, if you want. Anything you would want to say to your future partner.” You smile and start carefully writing your letter. “Mine for instance, I’m going to put all the things I want out of a relationship. At least you know right now. Things I want to experience but wouldn’t outright ask for face to face.” They nod and sit in front of their blank pieces of paper. 

Gojo is the only other person who immediately gets to writing. He won’t let anyone see what his says, let alone what he could be writing in there. For someone who likes to share so much, he’s oddly silent about this. A calm smile on his face as he fills the page with surprising speed. “Why are you so quiet hmm?” Your shoulder bumps his as you tease him. 

“Why are you so curious? Hoping it’s you I’m writing for?” He teases back with his usual smirk on his face. You shake your head at him and push him again. 

Shoko is the first of the group to finish her letter, it’s simple and short. She didn’t spend very long thinking about it, more going along with it because she wanted to see you guys happy than because she wanted to do it. Geto is the next to finish, his letter is longer than her’s. It takes about half the page and is complete with a singular heart by his signature. You finish your’s after him. Your letter fills up the entire front of the page and has many hearts and other doodles littering the margins. Gojo is the last to finish his. His is so long that it not only filled the first paper front to back but also took half of another page. There’s many characteristic doodles, hearts, squiggles, swirls, even a cat or two.

“Wow, never would have thought you would be the sap of the group Satoru.” Geto teases him as he watches Gojo carefully fold the pieces of paper. 

“I’m just picky. I am the strongest after all. Got to make sure my partner knows what I expect.”

“That sounds slightly toxic.” Shoko replies as she rests her head in her hand. 

“Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He rolls his eyes and puts his notebook back in his bag to once again be unused. “I just have standards, that's all.” 

“Whatever you say.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you fold up your own note. 

You don’t think of the letters again until many years later. Shoko’s letter wound up in the trash a week after she had written it. Geto’s had lasted longer…till around the time he left. You and Gojo were the only two who still had your letters by the time you were adults. 

Shoko had dragged you out for a night of drinking and fun when the letters were brought up again. Both of you a few shots deep and slightly more than buzzed. “So, you give that letter to Gojo?” You give her a confused look. Letter? “You know, the ones you had us write. To our future partners.” Oh.

“I forgot about those!” You say excitedly as your hands go up to cover your mouth. “I have no clue where it is at this point.”

“It would be funny to find it and give it to him. See if he lived up to your standards.” She smiles and pushes another shot towards you.

“It would be pretty funny huh? I have always been curious as to what he was writing back then. I mean he almost took two pages. I’ll let you know if I measured up to his standards.” You joke and bump your hip against hers. 

When you arrive home Shoko waves you off at the door, your heels dangling in your hand as you unlock the door. “Baby!” You hear excitedly as you open the door. There he is. Your boyfriend, er- fiance now. Your fiance, sometimes it feels surreal. You look down and a smile grows on your face as you see the glittering gem of the ring on your finger. 

“Hi Dove, did you have a fun night?” You set your shoes down and he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his face in your hair. Your smile and wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Oh, it was so horribly boring.” He groans and kisses your hair. “I did paperwork, and had so many meetings, it was so bad when I got home and you weren’t here to hug me and kiss me and make it all better.” You let out a small laugh and it makes a smile grow on his face. That’s his favorite sound in the whole world, your laughter, he could listen to it until the tape starts to skip from repeating too much. “Did you and Shoko have fun?”

“Yeah, she actually reminded me of something.”

“Oh? Anything fun?” 

“Mhm, you remember those letters I had us write in high school?”

“Oh!” He pops up and unwraps from you to go to your bedroom. You tentatively follow him down the hall with a smile. You watch as he shuffles through a box in your closet before he smiles and comes back with notebook pages. “Here, I almost forgot about them.” You smile and take the paper from his hands.

“When we wrote these, I didn’t think it would be you.” You unfold the paper as you admit and you almost drop them right there.

“I did,” he says shyly as you read the first line. It’s your name. He wrote this letter for you. “I really was holding out that you would like me one day…Is that sad?”

“I think it’s sweet.” You kiss his cheek and he smiles as you read through the letter. “You were really down bad huh?” You read some lines outloud to him as you go through the letter. “You wanted us to write to our future partners and for as cheesy as it sounds I could only picture a life with you in it.” His cheeks flush red as you read the lines he wrote. “If there was anyone I would want to be my soulmate it would be you, you make me feel like there’s more to life than fighting. That I’m more than just what I was born for. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my partner.” He refuses to make eye contact with you, you can see where the corners of the page are worn like someone has read it multiple times.

“I love you and I hope some day in the future that you love me too.” He says with you and you look up from the paper. 

“Oh, my dove.” You set the papers down on the dresser and bring your hands up to cup his face. “You’re so sweet, I love you too. So much more than you could ever know.” You kiss under his eyes as you pull his face towards you. 

“That’s really cheesy, like geez what was that guy on?” He tries to joke and tease.

“Hush, I think it’s sweet. It made me fall even more in love with you.” He smiles as you place a soft kiss to his lips. “If that was a letter that I might never have heard, I’m excited to hear what your vows are gonna sound like.” He groans and pulls you into another kiss.

“It’s going to be so weird to say all that cheesy stuff in front of all of our friends.”

“Don’t want them to know that you’re down bad for me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. We both know that’s not true. It’s just. It’s going to be weird because they’re my thoughts about you. All the things I want and love about you and you’re the only person I really care about hearing them.”

“And I can’t wait to hear them.” You pull him into another kiss as the two of you smile.

Yeah. You guys were going to be okay. It was going to be okay as long as you have each other.

taglist. @hiraethwa

stay a while why don't you? check out my other stuff

[hotwe]

Tax Season Commissions!

Hi everyone! It's that special time of year again! Time to pay the IRS so they don't come gank me, along with yet another surgery for my cat son (another mass removal but it's just a lil one on his gums so don't worry about him he'll be fine once it's gone however this still will cost over 1k lmaoooo) and with the other expenses- mainly finally getting prints and additional stickers made- this year's goal is around $3k!

Interested? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ ↓ clicky! ↓

Here is the plan to try and reduce strain to keep hotwe projects from being neglected for 4-5 months!

I will offer traditional hand drawn commissions! The price for these is generally lower because there is no color to contend with!

Some original hotwe art (that I had been saving for the artbook kickstarter lol) will also be for sale. Tumblr crowd you wouldn't be familiar with these pieces since they're on patreon only$1forallrewardsalsosometimesforfreejustsaying but I'll make a post showing what's available.

Livestreaming is likely! Either streaming commission work which is always fun or ??? Whatever needed for your viewing pleasure I suppose! I'd collect tips/donos here from anyone who wanted to toss a penny my way rather than get a commission.

Prints pre-orders are possible, I'm still figuring that out!

How to get a commission:

(and this time I am going to explain everything fully lol)

Start by sending me an email [ contact.hotwe@gmail ] with a description of what you'd like to have done! You can tell me as much or as little as you like because I will be asking follow up questions regardless!

Commission prices are based 100% on what is being asked for and vary greatly! Once I know enough about what you're looking to get, I will give you an estimate for the price! It can go up or down a bit from there as additional information is given, specifically if you forgot to mention something or if I get more detail about something and realize it wont be as labor intensive as expected.

Do not worry if you have a budget, I will work with it! Changing things like how much is in frame and whether there is color, what kind of background if any, etc, can reduce the price a lot! Even if your piece can't be done within your budget, a sketch is only $45!

The sketch option is your request, in color (unless you don't want color!), with just the flat fee of $45. The caveat is I spend an hour and a half on it only!

I know what you're thinking, but no! With sketches, I won't double the time by doubling the price because that wouldn't be worth it for you at all. I make the most progress on a piece in that first 1.5 hours, then after that it takes a long time- like 10 hours- before any significant improvement happens to the piece. Working on your sketch for 3 hours would hardly look better than 1.5 hours, so let's save your money. iusuallygooverthe1.5hoursanywaysbecauseiamafoolandicannotbesaved

Do not worry about asking for something and finding my price is higher than your budget- you are not insulting me!!! Don't feel shy about a budget either; art is a luxury I can't even afford for myself lmao and I do want my stuff to be accessible to people in my position. Also I like to work with budgets but I am not going to undersell my work, so don't feel like you are doing me a disservice! I've been doing this stuff for a long time so I know how to wiggle around for everyone's benefit. So just shoot your shot!

For hand drawn commissions, it's much the same process as digital ones! Let me know what you are looking for, and if you have a preference on size as well. Generally, a hand drawn piece will be a bit cheaper because I don't have to agonize over color, but depending on factors like size and detail it could also ramp up quickly. However, I don't intend to take on anything particularly intensive, since hand drawn pieces are meant to reduce my commissions work time this year, not add to it!

I mean, technically I could do color, I have the pencils... but at what cost... like spiritually I mean...

Payment! I send invoices through paypal (unfortunately) and I do accept payment plans! My rule is that to protect myself, I work up to what I have been paid. So if I have been paid half the price, I stop when I have done half of the work until I am paid further.

Because of this, the payment time frame is going to be smaller this time since I'm trying to not be working for half a year. Usually I prefer the months to not exceed the first digit of the price (i.e. $100 per month at least) but this time it's going to have a 4 month cut off.

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask in your email! I'm always down to chat, negotiate, and goof!

Thank you guys!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Lunch

Summary: Javi's rough start to the work week is turned around when he finds a surprise from his daughters in his lunch

Word Count: 3.1K (oops)

Paring: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: Literally nothing but sweet, sickening fluff, Javi being so in love with his family, Javi being the ultimate girl dad, a lot of glitter (?)

A/N: Our favorite family is back! I am a firm believer that Girl Dad!Javi keeps every single piece of artwork his daughters give to him and has a wall at his office dedicated to all of their drawings and crafts because he refuses to get rid of any of them 😭 I love them so much, they make me sick, your honor 🫡 unbeata bc that's just who I am, apologies in advance for the mistakes

Series Masterlist. Never Too Late Masterlist

4 hours into Monday and Javier Peña was already counting down the hours until Friday. It seemed like this week was going to have no problem giving Javi a swift kick in the ass back to reality after another blissful weekend with you and the girls, a grumpy frown falling upon his face, wishing he could rewind back just a few hours to when the biggest problems he was trying solved revolved around which book his daughters were picking out for bedtime, rather than strategy meetings on how to solve the better half of the southern drug trade still ranging in Mexico. 

Rubbing his hands over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Javi let out a sigh, grumbling low in his chest before running his hands through the dark curls of his hair, praying that the closed door of his office was enough to give his co-workers at the Laredo Sheriff's Department enough of a clue to let him at least try to enjoy his lunch in silence.  

Shuffling and stacking a few stray papers left out on his desk, Javi cleared a space for the brown paper sack he mindlessly pulled out of his work bag, plopping it in front of him without a second look. He shuffled through the pocket he knew he had an extra fork in somewhere, considering he was at the point of eating his lunch with nothing but his hands before venturing out to the common kitchen where the rest of his co-workers were, ready to disrupt the sacred silence and peace that was his lunch time. 

“Of course I forgot a fucking fork…” Javi grumbled to himself, abandoning his search in his bag after a few minutes, letting out another disappointed huff, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the speckled tiles of the ceiling. Javi was just about to get up, bracing himself for the perilous journey for a plastic fork he was about to embark on, when the corner of the lunch bag perched on his desk caught his eye. 

Was that… glitter?

As his gaze shifted down the rest of his bag, Javi’s impatient and bothered demeanor had quickly shifted, a soft smile growing between his cheeks, picking up the lunch sack that had very clearly been given a makeover by his daughters before disappearing into his work bag this morning. 

What was once a plain brown paper bag had somehow been turned into a hodgepodge of arts and crafts- glitter, pink and purple hearts, several stickers from separate collections of puppies, Star Wars, and unicorns, doodles and drawings from each of the girls, and a stray Batman band-aid that Harper must have added, considering the 17 she had covered herself in last night for fun. 

Quietly laughing to himself at his girl’s creation, Javi spent a few moments thoroughly examining all sides of the bag, his heart melting to read “Daddy’s Lunch- From Lucy, Elliot, Harper and Mommy” scribbled across the front. 

Carefully, Javi opened the top of the crinkly brown paper, revealing a plethora of surprising goodies inside, the first being a tiny stuffed cow and a fruit-by-the-foot that he obviously had no recollection of packing for himself last night. Setting the things down on his desk, Javi shuffled through the next added layer, this one consisting of another fruit-by-the-foot and a half eaten granola bar, which one of the girls clearly had gotten into before his lunch had departed from home.

 The last thing hiding lunch was a piece of paper that had been folded several times to fit inside the bag, Javi gently removing it with the rest of his surprise treasures. As he unfolded the now somewhat crumpled paper, the grin on his face began to grow wider and wider, seeing the colorful crayon creations doodled on the page. Before him, sat a paper with drawings of each of the girls done by themselves, perfectly embodying their tiny personalities. Lucy’s was neatly sketched and colored, and then outlined in a darker color to make the inside colors pop, Elliot’s had crazy scribbled hair and was holding a hockey stick in not one, but both hands, and Harpers was done in every color that the Crayola crayon box had to offer. 

As if their adorable self-portraits weren’t enough to have him in a puddle, in the middle of their artwork was a drawing of Javi standing between them with the words “We love you Daddy!”  etched in big, pink bubble letters above them. 

Javi had been so enamored by the art his daughters had made him, taking in every stroke and scribble on the page, he hadn’t noticed the smaller note that had fallen to his desk, your neat and careful handwriting etched across the paper. 

Jav,

3 little munchkins were very insistent on re-making Daddy’s lunch last night, and even more insistent on decorating your very boring brown bag. They told me that they were adding a few surprises to your lunch, so this is me apologizing in advance for any half eaten snacks or stuffed animals that may have ended up in there. I hope you have a great day, we all miss you lots and can’t wait to see you later. 

Love you lots, 

Osita 

Even though it was nothing but a few words scribbled down on a piece of paper and a drawing similar to one he had seen a thousand times before, it never failed to surprise Javi how something so small really did mean everything to him.  

Years ago, still working for the DEA, in the midst of chaos and corruption in Colombia, one of his former agents had always insisted on carrying his “lucky” drawing from his son in his back pocket on every mission he was sent on. Back then, the idea of carrying a colored, crumpled piece of paper in his jeans for good luck seemed like a somewhat ridiculous notion, but now, as Javi stared up at the bulletin board next to his desk, overflowing with drawings, paintings, and projects from his 3 daughters, he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t hold any gift from his girls so near and dear to his heart that he ever dared to let it go. 

Overlapping his newest artwork over the most recent crafts given to him to hang in his office, Javi hung today’s drawing at the front and center of the board, your note nestled next to it, beaming with pride at the love and and joy at how full his heart felt from a few simple pieces of paper. 

Admiring just a little longer before reaching over to the phone at the corner of his desk, Javi began to punch the familiar pattern of your home phone number on the receiver, patiently tapping his fingers as the line rang, the other hand grabbing his actual lunch food out of the flamboyantly decorated bag. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey baby, it’s me.” 

“Hi. Is everything okay?” You questioned cautiously, somewhat surprised by his mid-day work call. 

“No, everything is-” He paused, smiling back his lunch bag, “everything is great. I just had some time during lunch and wanted to see if the 3 stooges are around so I can say thank you for my lunch.” 

“Oh God, I almost forgot that was last night’s surprise project. How bad was it? I was only there to supervise lunch bag decorating because they were adamant they were more than capable than packing extra snacks for you.” You snickered, Javi practically almost able to see the hysterical look plastering your face through the phone, laughing right along with you at the adorable gifts they had left behind for him. 

“Well, I got…” Javi stopped, reaching back over in his pile of goodies, “two fruit-by-the-foots, a stuffed purple cow, and a half eaten granola bar that has Elliot written all over it.” 

“Is that Daddy? Did he get our lunch?! Did he like it?!” A chorus of little voices squealed in the background. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” You snickered, the muffled and muted sounds of the phone being passed off to the girls rustling through the other end of the line as Javi nestled his phone between his ear and shoulder, beginning to open up his food as he waited for a response from his daughters. 

“Hi Daddy!” The 3 shouted through the phone in unison.

“Hola, pollitas! (Hi, little chickens) Thank you so much for my lunch today!” 

“Did you like the bag, Daddy? It was my idea to make it look pretty because the brown is so boring.” Lucy boasted, in her lovingly know-it-all tone, making sure her dad knew she was without a doubt, the ringleader of the lunchtime antics. 

“I added the extra snacks!” Elliot chimed in, making sure her voice was well pronounced through the phone ensuring that Javi could her her contributions. 

“I helped-ed too!” Harper interrupted, trying to butt in over her sisters. 

“Well, Mommy helped a little bit too, but it was mostly us!” 

“Was it a surprise, Daddy?” 

“Best surprise I’ve had in a very long time. I already put your drawing up on my board so everyone can see your beautiful artwork. I think everyone at work is gonna start thinking I have professional artists that live in my house.” Javi’s cheeks were already sore from the goofy grin that was only getting wider every second he listened to his daughter’s sweet little voices on the phone, the girls erupting in a fit of giggles at his compliment. “Los amos mucho, morritas (I love you so much, kiddos).” 

“Hey Boss, you gotta second, I-” Agent Carter half knocked, opening Javi’s office door, stopping in his tracks as he met Javi’s cheerful grin turned death glare upon his arrival, slowly retracting his steps while Javi let out a scornful sigh, holding his hand out to get Carter to at least let him wrap up before dealing with whatever bullshit was coming his way. 

“Hey pollitas? Daddy has to get back to work, but I’ll see you in a little bit when I get home, okay? I love you so much. Can you pass the phone back to Mom?” 

“Okay, bye Daddy! Mommy! Mommy, Daddy wants to say goodbye!” 

“The gremlins said you wanted to say goodbye?” You laughed over the clatter of the phone being handed haphazardly back to you. 

“Yeah baby, I gotta go back to work, but I just wanted to say I love you and thanks for helping them with lunch, it was really fucking cute. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“The cutest 3 stinkers that I’ve ever met. I love you too, Jav. Bye, babe.” 

“Love you, bye.” 

As the dial tone went silent, Javi hung up the phone, taking in a deep exhale, still holding his hand out at his co-worker to preemptively prevent whatever what stupid remark was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Carter winced, holding up his hands in defense at Javi’s death glare, trying his best to hide the sly smirk spreading between his lips. “…. I just never really struck you for a rainbow glitter type of guy.” 

“Fuck off, Carter. Give me 10 more minutes to try and eat my lunch in fucking peace.” Javi groaned, trying to shoo him back out the door he had barged in from.

“Okay, okay, message received! I will say…I do think the glitter really does capture your bright and sparkly personality though, the unicorn stickers are really a nice-” 

“Carter…” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m leaving! “ 

As the door clicked shut, Javi let his annoyance slip back to content, letting the colorful sparkle of his lunch back serve as his beacon of hope for the rest of the work day, thankful for the extra piece of home he got to keep with him until he got to see his girls again. 

“Hey, I’m home!” Javi’s familiar voice rang through the hallway, barely 3 steps through the front door before the girls were rushing through the house, barrelling towards their dad to attack him with the biggest bear hugs their little bodies could muster. 

“Daddy!” They screeched, wrapping around every free inch of Javi’s body that they could reach, giggling as he crouched down to greet them, peppering them with ticklish kisses all over their faces. 

“Hola, Pollitas! Oh, I missed you guys! Did you guys have a good day today?” Javi grinned, now letting the bags he was holding in his hands drop to the floor, collecting his daughters in his grasp, wrapping them up in the tightest hug he could manage through their excited squirms and wiggles. 

“Yeah, we went to the park with Mommy and then we came home and played soccer and then ran through the sprinkler!” Lucy beamed, her sisters nodding in happy agreement, excited to tell their dad about today’s shenanigans while he was at work. 

“I scored two goals on Mommy!” Elliot added, her face lighting up with pride at her accomplishment. 

“No way! Nice stuff, Ellie Bellie!” Javi grinned, holding his hand out for a ferocious high-five from Elliot, pretending to shake his hand in pain at her strength, making the girls snicker at their dad’s overdramatics. “Hey, can you tell me where Momma is, I gotta go say hi to her too and then you can tell me all about the rest of your day, okay?” 

“She’s in the kitchen making dinner!” Lucy replied, giggling as Javi pressed a long kiss into the top of her head, nestled between her messy hair. 

“Mommy’s makin’ ‘pisgetti!” Harper cooed, Lucy and Elliot trying their best to keep from laughing at their youngest sister’s inability to pronounce spaghetti. 

“Thanks, lindas (cuties). Why don’t you guys go clean up your stuff and then we can help Mom with the rest of dinner?” 

“Okay!” The three agreed, dashing back through the house and disappearing down the hallways, Javi laughing to himself as he kicked off his shoes and picked up his bags, heading into the kitchen to find you at the stove, happily humming and swaying your hips to the radio playing in the background as you cooked, so wrapped up in what you were doing that you hadn’t realized your husband’s presence. 

Quietly setting down his bags on the counter, Javi rested his hip against the stone ledge, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you work, wondering to himself if he would ever get over how even the simplest things like watching you make dinner made him fall more and more in love with you, the familiar warmth of home and you creeping through his cheeks in a soft smile. 

“Hi, Momma.” He smirked, making you squeal in surprise as he snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder, rocking you back and forth in his grasp. “I missed you guys today.” 

“Hi, handsome. We missed you, too. The girls haven’t stopped asking when you were going to be home since you called at lunch time. They were so excited you liked your lunch. Sorry if it was a little obnoxious. I tried to tell ‘em to go easy on the glitter, so hopefully none ended up in your food.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the image of the finished lunch bag that had made its way to work with Javi this morning. You turned around to face Javi, his hands still resting on your hips as you draped your arms over his shoulders, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips meet his, his mouth lingering just a little longer than usual as you felt his smile growing amidst his kiss. “What was that for?” You blushed, butterflies swirling in your stomach as his lips gently pulled away from yours, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin in the space where your t-shirt and shorts parted. 

“I love you so much. You and the girls, I just- I’m just so thankful for all of you.” Javi grinned, the soft brown of his eyes sparkling in the kitchen light, looking you up and down as if in awe of the fact that you were the woman he got to hold in his grasp at the end of each day for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too, you goof.” 

Before your lips could meet again, the happy giggles of your girls flooded through the kitchen, their little pitters and patters of their feet tumbling the hallway to greet the both of you again. Peeking over Javi’s shoulder, you cocked your head in confusion at the plastic bag your girls were now rummaging through on the counter, wondering what Javi had been shopping for on his way home. 

“What’s in the bag, Jav?” 

“Well…” He paused, making his way over to the kitchen counter with the girls, picking up the bag and tipping it over, shaking its contents out in front of them, “I figured, since the munchkins did such a good job with today’s lunch bag-” 

“STICKERS!” 

“GLITTER PENS?!”

“PUFFY PAINT!” 

The girls shrieked, picking up the various brightly colored craft items Javi had brought home with him, along with a pack of brown paper bags, making the reason for his pit stop abundantly clear, and making you smile even wider than you already were. 

“...I figured, I still have 4 days of lunches left, and you guys did such a good job with my lunch today, that you could decorate the rest of my lunch bags for the week.” 

“Really?!” The girls squealed, their faces lighting up in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Javi beamed, reaching his arms around the girls to pick them up, the 3 laughing and squirming in pure joy, your heart bursting at the seams watching just how much Javi loved his little girls and the silliest, smallest things he would do just to make them smile. 

“Mommy, can we start right now!? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, Elliot and Harper joining in with their silent plea of sweet puppy eyes. 

“Let’s help Mommy with dinner and then we can-” 

“It’s okay, I think spaghetti can wait a little longer.” 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

[lemonlimestar]

i absolutely adore your designs! id love to hear about your process for making characters who look similar in canon have unique and identifiable features!!

tysm :,) i’ve always been really into character design so it’s fun to translate that into characters i love.

as for making similar looking characters look different i drew up a little lineup.

this is gonna be a long one sjhdjsjs

cassie, steph, and mia are all beloved white, blonde, *skinny, teenage girls with roughly the same appearance so i decided to focus in on them.

(*they’re usually portrayed as being muscular/fit but nowhere near in same fashion as their male counterparts)

i wish there was a fancier way to put it, but honestly i just play around with shape language until i get a design i like. i try to lean into motifs/commonalities. (ex: the robins have larger noses to be sort of bird-like, cissie has a heart face to tie into the connection between archery & cupid, the house of el s-curl, cassie’s pigtails are shaped like stars) overall, doing lineups like these are really helpful when trying to make characters look different because it shows you a side-by-side of all the similarities & differences in how i draw the characters.

especially when they interact a lot (ex: wally & roy, kon & tim, cissie & greta) i don’t want them looking like siblings or to repeat the same features between characters who already look similar. unless i’m playing into that (dick & donna <3)

when changing race or body types, i try to factor in the actual character & their backstory. i tend to draw cassie stockier because of her more brawler-like fighting style + her being one of shorter yj kids. but also, i made greta chubby both because i thought it worked well with her shape language and i simply wanted to. the world is my oyster.

as for race, i’m a lot more careful about thinking about how being non-white would affect a character. i have to know a decent amount about a character before hitting them with The Self-Indulgence Beam. making a character black, brown, or asian shouldn’t be slapped on like a sticker without any care put into it. i feel like it’s a well-known point, but it’s worth mentioning especially because i’m black & i make so many characters non-white when i draw them.

back to canon portrayals, they’re some unique features given to them (ex: steph’s freckles aren’t always drawn but they do get featured a few times) so i try to make things like that a permanent physical feature. the curls were simply inspired by some other stephs i’ve seen :) i typically hc that she straightens & crimps them when she’s a teenager but i drew her with them for this example. i got very self-indulgent with my steph design because she’s my girl, but i also tried to keep in mind how she complements the people she interacts with the most (cass, tim, babs).

although i’ve enjoyed what i’ve read with her, i know the least about mia. so, i just gave her features i’d like to see more on teenage characters like acne. i pulled from some panels for the shape of her nose and adjusted the shade of her hair about a million times. i debated on giving her piercings, but ended up going against it because she doesn’t have invulnerability nor a full face mask & she doesn’t have piercings in any of the panels i saw of her.

although i’m not the hugest fan of the reveal of cassie secretly being a demigod rather than just having been given her powers, her being not entirely human gives me a little bit more leeway with her design in my head. hence the stark blonde in her lashes being inspired by fantasy design i enjoy.

one more thing i almost forgot was scars. obviously heroes with no powers would have more visible scars. just with the bats: they all have body scarring but i draw cass with more facial scars because of her history + she’s herself so she wouldn’t bother covering them v.s. tim, who doesn’t have visible facial scars bc he’s Very Particular about appearances, but he has a crooked nose.

scars can be fun to play with as far as trying to remember what happens to certain characters that would leave them scarred (cissie’s scar where the arrow went through her, any scars kon got from literally dying, wally’s or barry’s scarring from their “accidents”) they’re an interesting trait to add & reflects the whole vigilantism thing.

okay i think that’s all the thoughts i have. ik this got kinda rambley but i hope it was helpful 😭

here are some closeups, as a treat <3

[patapiaf]

I made some stickers of duos I like!!

I didn’t draw chibis in like 3 years, forgot how fun it was I think I will make more of them,

[cakeebly]

Hello everyone!

Thanks lots for the support for my Cassette Beasts Partner VS Archangel (+ Averevoir) series! It is a lot of fun and I love this game so much. I’m playing the DLC now, so expect something coming out for that!

Anyway, this post is just me rambling about the details I put into each piece. Some have more details than others, but all of them have an equal amount of love put into them!

I’ll go in-order of how I met each companion in game!

———

Kayleigh:

For Kayleigh, Meredith, and Viola I re-used the same bricks from the train station and the background to match how they are in game!

All (except for Barkley’s) have a quote from the archangel overlayed as well. Some are easier to see than others.

But for Kayleigh, all the details are in her posing! Her pose is akin to how battles start, with the characters pointing their cassette players at the enemy before transforming.

But her pose also sort of represents her GIVING. She gives you your first cassette, she always is the one giving (which ties into her story with Mourningstar). You do not take from me, you only give.

Also Dorian’s death splatter in infront and bellow Kayleigh in the foreground haha.

———

Eugene:

The background is Mammon’s lair, of course! And he is in a fighting pose, ready to bash in some landlords!

The detail here I want to point out is how I created Mammon. It was really difficult since Mammon is the most abstract, and I have no idea what’s going on for 90% of him, but I am proud of how I made the face and the nose!

I used USD president / USA figures that are on USD to make the face and the nose! I did cutting and editing so it’s more pixelated. I am struggling to remember which specific notes I used, but they’re from two different USD.

———

Meredith:

It might be hard to tell, but my friend spotted it when I showed him this one, there is a record behind Nowhere Monarch! Since Meredith’s quest is about the record, I thought it was a nice touch. I also used Meredith’s posing ingame for her pose here.

Can you tell I didn’t want to draw the second eye?

———

Felix:

I loved Felix’s story so much, hits home as an artist.

The alter posts are in the background here!

Felix is also the only one not holding their cassette tape, since Felix wanted to apologize to Kuneko. He doesn’t really want to fight her, his hand out to her in apology. Used his sad expression ingame for his expression here.

Also Kuneko has glowing nails / claws just because I wanted to. And multiple kunai cause that’s cool.

———

Viola:

Viola my beloved, the first one I drew!

Her’s is a lot simpler, mostly because I wasn’t expecting to make this into a series and I just wanted to draw her. But I still loved how I drew Goodfellow here!

The book is open, reading their stories from Shakespeare’s plays.

There’s also spotlight on both Robin and Viola’s faces! Since that’s how Robin introduced himself and to show how they’re characters from plays!

———

Barkley:

Barkley is the only one not to fight an Archangel in their quest, so there is not glitching effects here! The background is, of course, the cave the fight takes place in.

There’s bones in the background, a leash and treats on the floor.

And of course, Barkley’s bootleg cassette! Barkley’s cassette is also the only tape I did not draw the fully remastered version of for the sticker. This was an accident both in the drawing, and in my game. I forgot to remaster it before fighting Aleph 😅.

I also didn’t meet Barkley immediately because for some reason I thought he was a captain? For the trial quest? I am not sure why I thought that.

———

And that is all for now! I am planning to do two oc drawings for Cassette Beasts, a DLC drawing, and probably an Aleph / final battle drawing!

But I’m not sure how long that will take.

Thanks for all of the love on the individual drawings!! Means the world

[py-dreamer]

@dynamicsimp hope ya like it!

EYESHOT AU DITY

I literally did this in one day- help.

So yeah, I tried out the gosh-dang challenge and honestly?

Quite happy with how it came out! It was very interesting and actually very fun working on a piece with a monochrome pink palette!

Gosh, I haven't gotten to use my REAL lineless style (I use it for stickers but I haven't done any stickers in forever) where all the cel shading is real harsh and as it says in the title: no outline.

Lately, I've been more focused on lighting and texture in my digital works and just making everything 'softer' and more 'realistic' but dang, I forgot how much I missed just using my harsh and more cartoony style.

But because it looked good, here's the one with some light:

I am very happy especially since I do believe there is some improvement in the style.

(In that it doesn't look as amateur as when I first started out. But I think that's mostly cause I used monochrome here)

Does anyone else get that struggle? Feeling like you're not advancing then keep pushing yourself to change and improve but also really missing the original style?

Anyways some of y'all might be wondering where I've been for pride month....

I PROMISE IT'S NOT CAUSE I HATE PRIDE MONTH OR LGBTQ+ PLEASE PUT YOUR PITCHFORKS DOWN!!!!!

Mainly it has mostly been art block and just demotivation especially since I'm STILL WORKING ON THAT BIG PROJECT UGHHGHHHGGGHHGG.

(I'm not blaming y'all I'm just feral)

And just general procrastination.

BUT.

I do have another project in the works. So to any of my lovely marshiemallows who have seen my previous posts,

you'd know that I'm very...opinionated about Macaque. More specifically his attitude in canon and how the fandom treats him.

(Keep in mind the thing was planned before s5)

DISCLAIMER: Again, I do enjoy Mac's character. I just think he's a bit of a d!ck and kinda hates how a lot of the fandom (not all) brushes that over and throws the bucket of Wukong's sins down on the king's head.

(I also would not hesitate to wack him with a stop sign on the chopping block if given the chance /hj)

But without further ado I decided to do something other than complain and present you guys this:

Yay! So if you're into Macaca bullying, join the Mac bullying train! CHOO CHOO!

(also big thanks to @furornocturna for beta reading and helping with characterizations and stuff. There will be another post just detailing bout the fic later but yea go check them out, their work's great)

AND HAPPY ANIVERSARY TO DYNAMICSIMP FOR THE AU!