#i fucking hate everything i draw and im trying to learn to not hate it

[luna-the-cretar]

Drawing a character will really make you take note of their character design.

Like, for example, Jericho.

I just realized that his hat in both designs are very wide. Like sir, why does you hat need to cover your shoulders. And also Jeri has some more stuffing in ‘im in his new design. Likewise, tho, his old design seems more…idk, human? Like, he has an actual neck and shoulders. And his head is a more normal-ish shape, rather than the empty burlap sack it is in his new design. Idk, it’s the little things

[luckyshouse]

i really like the way this shot is framed

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[snekdood]

i honestly deserved none of the shit ppl did to me that lead me to this point

[motherismotheringggg]

I would love if you write some enemies to lovers for nicholas chavez and reader, it could be some like how to lose a guy in 10 days or 10 things i hate about you, something like that, with a happy ending, i dont know exactly, i just know that i love everything that you write ❤️

match point 🎾

summary: based on this lovely request!! i added a tennis element to it because tennis feels very “enemies to lovers” coded to me for some reason

type: nicholas chavez x black plus sized fem reader

tags/warnings: 18+, angst, misread fatphobia (i promise it’s not in there but i don’t wanna trigger anyway), oral (m! and f! receiving), face fucking, cream pie

word count: ~8493

author’s note: confession, i’ve never seen either of those movies and i know i need to!!! either way, i liked this bc im lowkey missing summer rn so this helped — i hope you like it!!!

taglist: @blackynsupremacy , @hoffmansgirl , @emluvsuxo , @ilovecheetahchrome , @nicholaschavezslut69 , @nicholaslut , @niteskysx , @melaninjhs , @pawofassumption

🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾🎾

The cicadas were already singing their lazy summer song when you arrived at the outdoor tennis courts, the air thick with humidity and the faint tang of freshly cut grass. The afternoon sun hung high, its rays bouncing off the court’s faded green surface and making the white lines shimmer like a mirage. You adjusted the strap of your bag, trying to ignore the way sweat was already pooling at the base of your neck, dampening the curls of your wash-and-go style.

This was supposed to be fun—a way to meet new people and settle into a city that still felt foreign and a little lonely. The open lessons had sounded perfect in theory, a casual way to break the ice while learning a new skill. But as you scanned the court, the pit in your stomach deepened.

Clusters of players were already warming up, their easy camaraderie apparent in the way they laughed and called out to one another. Most of them were lean, athletic types, the kind who looked like they spent their weekends hiking or doing yoga. You tugged at the hem of your tank top, suddenly hyper-aware of how it clung to your curves.

“Okay, let’s get started!”

The coach’s voice boomed across the court, drawing your attention. He was wiry and sunburnt, with the kind of leathery skin that suggested decades spent outdoors. A whistle hung around his neck, and his clipboard was already dotted with names and notes.

You moved toward the group, slipping into the back of the huddle as he began assigning partners. The air buzzed with excitement, punctuated by the rhythmic thwack of balls hitting rackets in the distance.

Just as you were beginning to relax, a low murmur rippled through the group. You turned in time to see a tall figure sauntering toward the court.

Nicholas Chavez.

He was the kind of beautiful that made you pause—messy dark hair, honey-brown eyes that seemed to catch the sunlight, and a jawline sharp enough to make you wonder if he’d walked off the pages of a magazine. He wore a black T-shirt and shorts, his broad shoulders and toned arms hinting at a strength that made it clear he wasn’t new to this.

As he got closer, he tossed a lazy glance toward the huddle, his gaze sweeping over the group. When his eyes landed on you, they lingered for a beat too long, and his brow twitched in a way that made your chest tighten.

“All right, let’s pair up,” the coach said, scanning his clipboard. His gaze landed on you, and you braced yourself. “Y/N, you’re with Nick.”

You forced a smile, clutching your racket like a lifeline. This was fine. You could handle this.

But the moment you looked back at Nicholas, you saw it: the flicker of hesitation in his expression, followed by the faintest lift of his brow. He didn’t say anything outright, but his reaction was loud enough. His gaze darted briefly to your shoulders, to the soft curve of your arms, before sliding back to your face with a faint smirk.

It wasn’t the smirk itself that stung—it was the way it felt so dismissive, like you were being appraised and silently deemed not worth the effort.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch.

Your stomach sank.

“Problem, Nick?” the coach called out, clearly catching the tail end of his remark.

Nicholas shrugged, spinning his racket lazily in one hand. “Nah,” he said, his voice smooth. “No problem.”

But as he turned and strode toward the far end of the court, his posture radiated a kind of casual arrogance that made your skin crawl.

The sun beat down mercilessly as you followed him to the court, your sneakers crunching against the gritty asphalt. By the time you reached the net, your irritation had reached a slow boil.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you said, trying to keep your tone even.

Nicholas didn’t respond, only gave a half-smile that somehow managed to be both infuriating and devastatingly attractive. He took his position without another word, and you adjusted your grip on the racket, determined to prove yourself.

But it didn’t take long for your annoyance to bubble over. Nicholas wasn’t even trying. He barely moved for volleys, his half-hearted swings making it clear he had no intention of putting in effort. When you lunged to keep the ball in play, your movements fueled by sheer determination, he had the audacity to let out a soft, amused laugh.

“Something funny?” you snapped, straightening as you glared at him.

He leaned casually on his racket, his honey-brown eyes glinting with something that made your pulse race—equal parts amusement and challenge. “You’re working pretty hard for this, huh?”

Your grip tightened. “That’s kind of the point,” you bit out. “It’s called practice.”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “But, you know, maybe you should pace yourself. Wouldn’t want to tire out too quickly.”

The words were innocuous enough, but the way his gaze flicked over you as he said them wasn’t. Your jaw clenched as heat rose to your face, though you weren’t sure if it was anger or embarrassment. Probably both.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said tightly. “I can handle myself.”

“Yeah?” His smirk widened, dimples flashing in a way that made you want to scream. “We’ll see.”

The last few volleys of practice felt like an eternity. The summer sun bore down relentlessly, baking the court and leaving a faint sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. Every muscle in your body ached, and each swing of your racket felt heavier than the last. Meanwhile, Nicholas moved across the court with maddening ease, barely breaking a sweat, his shots precise but lazy, like he wasn’t even trying.

“Good game, everyone!” the coach called out, blowing his whistle to signal the end of practice. Relief washed over you as you dropped your racket and grabbed your water bottle from your bag.

You lowered yourself to the ground with a graceless plop, sitting cross-legged near the sidelines and taking long gulps of water. The cool liquid was a godsend, but the heat still clung to you, making your skin feel sticky. You fanned yourself with one hand, trying to keep your breathing steady.

No one’s looking at you. Relax.

You repeated the mantra in your head, reminding yourself that you weren’t being perceived in the way your mind sometimes tricked you into thinking. Your confidence had always been solid—a hard-earned love for your body and all it had carried you through—but moments like this, when your stamina was stretched thin and the exhaustion was visible, made it easier for doubt to creep in.

“Mind if I join?”

The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see one of the other players—a girl around your age with a friendly smile and braids pulled into a high ponytail—gesturing to the space next to you.

“Go for it,” you said, gesturing for her to sit.

She plopped down beside you, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying out here. Who decided it was a good idea to play tennis in the middle of July?”

You laughed, grateful for the distraction. “Right? I feel like my shoes are melting into the court.”

“I’m Taylor, by the way,” she said, extending a hand.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking it.

The two of you quickly fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, talking about everything from how intense the coach seemed to the best food spots in the city. Taylor’s humor was sharp and quick, and it wasn’t long before you were laughing so hard your sides ached more than from practice.

Just as you were starting to forget your earlier frustration, a shadow passed over you.

“Take it easy.”

You looked up to see Nicholas strolling by, his racket slung over his shoulder and a water bottle in hand. His tone was light, almost lazy, but the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise. He didn’t stop walking, didn’t even look back as he delivered the remark.

Your jaw clenched, heat rising to your face—not from the sun this time, but from irritation.

“Is he always like that?” you muttered, glancing at Taylor.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s just Nick. He’s kind of a jerk to everyone.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, standing up and brushing off your legs, “he’s got it down to an art.”

-----

The next practice was even hotter than the first, the summer sun relentless as it beat down on the courts. The air shimmered with heat, and the faint smell of sunscreen mixed with the tang of tennis balls and sweat. You showed up determined to ignore Nicholas entirely, but, unsurprisingly, he made that impossible.

It started when the group was working on backhands. You’d gotten the general motion, but the finer details still felt awkward, and after a few failed attempts, you lowered your racket and turned to the coach. “Sorry, can you show that one more time?” you asked.

Before the coach could answer, Nicholas let out a low whistle, leaning lazily on his racket. “Guess they’re really starting from scratch, huh?”

The words hit you like a sharp jab, and your grip tightened on your racket. Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to ignore him, even as irritation bubbled beneath the surface. Instead, you focused on the coach’s demonstration, determined not to let Nicholas’s snide comment throw you off.

Later in practice, you managed to land a sharp, satisfying volley during a rally. The ball skimmed over the net and landed squarely out of Nicholas’s reach. Pride swelled in your chest—until Nicholas turned to the coach, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“Look at that!” he called out, his smirk deepening as dimples framed his maddeningly smug expression. “She hit one!”

Laughter rippled faintly through the group, but all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. Heat crawled up your neck as you turned away, focusing on retrieving the ball and forcing yourself not to react. You clenched your jaw, gripping your racket so hard your knuckles ached.

By the end of practice, you were drenched in sweat, your tank top clinging to your skin, and your curls puffing out in defiance of the humidity. The exhaustion weighed heavy in your limbs, but all you could think about was getting out of there. You had plans to meet Taylor for dinner after, and every second spent on the court felt like it was cutting into your evening.

You tossed your racket into your bag and slung it over your shoulder, ready to bolt, but in your rush, the strap snagged on the bench. The zipper popped open, spilling your belongings onto the ground. Your water bottle rolled a few feet away, sunscreen and a spare shirt landing in a messy pile alongside the small notebook you used to jot down practice tips.

“Need some help?” Taylor asked, crouching down beside you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, hurriedly grabbing your sunscreen as she handed it to you. You scrambled to gather everything, feeling the heat from the court radiating through the soles of your shoes.

Before you could finish zipping up your bag, a shadow loomed over you.

“Careful,” Nicholas said, his voice light and casual, but with that familiar edge of condescension. “You’d probably move faster if you lightened your load a little.”

Your head snapped up, and before you could stop yourself, the words came out: “You’d probably move faster if you actually tried during practice instead of standing around acting like you’re too good for the rest of us.”

The air grew still, the quiet hum of cicadas the only sound as everyone turned to look at you. Your chest heaved as the words hung in the air, hot and sharp, your frustration boiling over in full view of the group.

Nicholas paused for a moment, then tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into an infuriatingly lazy smile. “The heat’s getting to everyone, huh?”

A few of the other players chuckled awkwardly, but your glare didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem fazed, casually slinging his racket over his shoulder like nothing had happened.

“See you next time,” he said, his voice light as he turned and strolled off, leaving you standing there with your fists clenched.

Taylor rose to her feet beside you, muttering under her breath. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I know” you said, your voice tight as you choked back tears, while you zipped up your bag and slung it over your shoulder.

As you walked off the court, your mind raced. No one had ever been able to needle you like this before, and it wasn’t just frustrating—it was confusing. You weren’t sure what Nicholas’s problem was.

-----

You decided to skip the next practice. You told yourself it was to give your body a break from the brutal summer heat and all the drills, but deep down, you knew the real reason: Nicholas Chavez. His smirks, his snide comments, the way he always managed to needle you just right—it had all been too much. You needed a breather.

Still, the itch to move lingered. By the evening time, when the sun had finally dipped enough to make the air bearable, you headed to the gym near the courts. You timed it perfectly, arriving after practice would’ve ended and to ensure no one else would be there.

The place was empty, just the quiet hum of the overhead fans and the rhythmic thump of your sneakers against the polished floor. You felt freer here, confident enough to shed your usual layers. In your sports bra and athletic shorts, you stretched, tying your curls up into a puff before grabbing your racket.

You put on your headphones and cranked up the volume, letting the beat drown out the world as you stepped onto the court. You started with easy volleys, but it didn’t take long for your pent-up frustration to bubble up. With every swing, you hit the ball against the wall at full power and speed, the sharp crack of impact echoing in the empty space. Each hit felt like a release—a way to channel all the irritation that Nicholas had stirred up in you.

You were in the zone, so focused on the rhythm of the ball and the music blasting in your ears that you barely noticed someone calling your name. It wasn’t until a break between songs that the sound finally cut through.

You froze mid-swing, turning to see none other than Nicholas standing near the entrance, his bag slung over one shoulder.

Of course.

You yanked back one side of your headphones, your annoyance flaring immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, walking toward you with that infuriatingly easy confidence.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Practice had ended two hours ago. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Gym’s empty, thought I’d get a quick practice in,” he continued, his tone casual. Then, with a tilt of his head, he added, “Didn’t mean to interrupt. You were really going at it.”

You rolled your eyes, already tempted to pack up and leave. But before you could move, he gestured to your racket.

“You’ve got a killer forehand,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of genuine admiration. “I saw that last one before I came in. Honestly… I wouldn’t mind if you showed me how you did it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. But the irritation was still simmering, and it bubbled over before you could stop yourself.

“Are you joking?” you said dryly. “You’ve been absolutely insufferable since the moment I met you. You’ve made me feel weird and out of place every single practice, and now you’re acting like none of that happened?”

Nicholas raised his hands, palms out, as if in surrender, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—amusement. He chuckled under his breath, which only made your temper flare more.

“And if you have a problem with fat girls,” you said, your voice sharp as you stared him down, “then just say it.”

The laugh died on his lips. For the first time since you’d met him, Nicholas looked caught off guard. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head quickly. “Wait—what? No. That’s not—”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I never meant to make you feel like that. I swear. I was just… being an idiot. Trying to be funny, I guess. Clearly, I failed at that.” His voice softened, and then he added, “For what it’s worth, I don’t have a problem with you. At all. You’re…” He hesitated, his gaze sweeping over you for a moment. “You’re hot. And you’ve got a killer body. I mean that.”

You blinked, stunned into silence. Of all the things you’d expected him to say, that hadn’t even been on the list.

For a moment, you just stared at him, your fiery temper cooling as his words settled in. There was something about the way he said it—cool and flirty, sure, but also sincere—that left you completely disarmed.

Finally, you exhaled and nodded. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

Nicholas smiled, this time a smirk of surrender rather than that familiar smirk as he took a step back toward his bag. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then—”

“Wait.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder as you crossed your arms.

“You almost made me cry you know,” you said, your tone light but teasing. “So I think you owe me. In the form of walking me home—after I show you the move.”

His smirk widened, and he stepped back onto the court. “Deal.”

The two of you spent the next fifteen minutes practicing together. Nicholas was attentive, actually listening as you explained the technique, and for the first time, it felt… easy.

When the session ended, you walked side by side through the quiet streets, the summer air cooler now that the sun had set. The conversation flowed effortlessly—where you were both from, your favorite songs, the best smoothie spots after practice. By the time you reached your apartment building, you’d almost forgotten the Nicholas who’d made practice so unbearable.

There was a moment of silence as you stopped in front of your door. Nicholas glanced down at you, his honey-brown eyes warm under the glow of the streetlights.

You tilted your head, standing on your toes to get a little closer. With a smirk, you said, “And if you thought one itty bitty overdue apology was going to get me, you really need to get out more.”

Before he could respond, you patted him on the shoulder, turned, and headed inside.

“Good night, Nick,” you called over your shoulder.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Good night, Y/N.”

-----

Over the next few weeks, something shifted between you and Nicholas. The jabs weren’t as sharp anymore, and the underlying venom had slowly been replaced by something else—something more playful, teasing, but still competitive.

You found yourself walking to practice together more often, your casual banter now peppered with teasing remarks, both of you pushing each other to be better. There was no denying that your attraction to him had grown—you’d try to shake it off at first, convincing yourself that the snarky, flirtatious back-and-forth was just that. But deep down, you knew it was something more.

Sometimes, after practice, you both stopped for smoothies. The conversation was easy, as if you’d known each other for years. You found yourself drawn to his dry humor, the way he would effortlessly make jokes even about the smallest things. You’d roll your eyes, but inside, you were smiling. There was a charm to him that you couldn’t quite ignore.

But despite the playful comments and flirtation, there was still a part of you that couldn’t tell if he was just being his usual cocky self or if there was something deeper there. After all, he���d told you that you were hot and even almost kissing you—yet it never felt like enough to confirm that he liked you back.

One afternoon, after practice, the two of you decided to hang back for some extra practice, the court still warm from the sun. The air was heavy with the scent of summer, but you were both determined to squeeze out a little more work. After a while, you both collapsed on the ground, breathless from the intensity.

As you went into your cool-down stretches, you groaned, stretching out your legs. “My legs are so tight,” you muttered, rolling your shoulders to relieve some of the tension.

Nicholas, ever the opportunist, watched you for a beat before giving you a crooked grin. “You know, I can help with that.”

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could respond, he was already moving to you.

“Lay on your back,” he instructed, and you did so without thinking.

He positioned himself between your legs as he gently lifted your right one, and pushed it back toward your chest. The strain on your muscles felt good, but the proximity of him only added to the tension. He didn’t seem to notice—at least, you hoped he didn’t—but when you let out an involuntary moan as your muscles stretched, the sound echoed across the empty court.

You froze, eyes widening, your face flushing with embarrassment. You quickly laughed to cover it up. “Echoing like that is crazy” you muttered, trying to brush it off.

Nicholas, ever the one to make light of the situation, chuckled. “Noted,” he said, voice teasing, his grin wide. “Definitely a screamer.”

You shot him a playful glare, but the heat from his words lingered as you pushed him off, “You’re so gross,” you gave him a playful nudge, finishing the stretching on your own.

The teasing didn’t stop there. A few days later, after another long practice, you and Nicholas were gathering your things when he said, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, “I’ll be waiting for you in the shower, Y/N.”

No one knew the brewing tension between you too and just assumed Nicholas was his typical joking self, causing everyone to burst into chuckles.

Taylor, standing beside you, nudged you playfully. “Oh, come on. You gotta give me the details,” she whispered, practically bouncing with excitement.

Before you could answer, one of the older women on the team—Barbara, a rich and eccentric lady with a flair for drama—stepped forward, her eyes twinkling. “My pool was just refinished,” she announced grandly, hands raised as if unveiling a masterpiece. “And I’m throwing a little party this weekend to celebrate. You’re all invited!”

The room went silent for a moment before the chatter picked up again, everyone was excited about the prospect of a pool party, but you were still stuck on what Nicholas had said. His voice echoed in your head, making your pulse race.

---

You and Taylor slid into one of the cozy booths at your favorite smoothie place, the smell of fresh fruit and the hum of casual conversations filling the air. Taylor was practically bouncing in her seat, eyes wide with excitement as she shoved her açaí bowl aside and leaned forward, giving you her full attention.

“So, wait,” she said, eyes locked on yours. “You moaned out loud!?” She looked at you in disbelief, almost spitting out her bowl as she struggled to keep it together.

You nodded slowly, fighting back a laugh as she tried to process everything. “Yeah, it was—uh, kind of an accident.”

“No!” she gasped, her voice rising a little too loudly for the cozy shop. “You two almost had sex on the court!”

You quickly shushed her, looking around to make sure no one had overheard. You were already feeling the heat of your embarrassment creeping up your neck. “Shh! Taylor, you’re gonna get us thrown out,” you hissed, barely able to hold back your own laughter.

Taylor put her hand over her mouth, but her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “Sorry, sorry,” she whispered dramatically, though she was clearly struggling not to laugh.

“But I don’t know what to do. He’s so confusing, Tay.” Your face was hot as you tried to steady yourself.

Taylor raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “Babe, what’s confusing? He so clearly wants you to ride him like it’s no tomorrow!”

You rolled your eyes as a smile tugged at your lips, “I don’t know, he’s hot but am I really gonna fuck a go I met at club tennis?”, you picked up your smoothie to sip.

There was a pause between you two before unanimously responding,

“Yes”

You both burst into laughter, the patrons of the smoothie shop, including a family with a small child, shot you both looks.

“Okay, okay, here’s what I’m thinking.” Taylor shot up straighter, practically bouncing in her seat now. “After the pool party this weekend, we’ll come back to your apartment, hang out for a while. Then I’ll slip out and leave you two alone. You won’t have any distractions, and you’ll be in your space. So it’s just you, him.”

“You’ve thought about this, huh?” you shot her a slick look, eyes squinted with a smile.

“From the second you two were paired up, yes!” she grabbed uo Nike duffel bag and smoothie, Shooting up from the booth, “Come on, let’s go bikini shopping!” she called out from the shop door.

------

You and Taylor arrived at Barbara’s house, pulling up to the towering gates of a mansion that could only be described as extravagant. As you drove through the gates, you couldn't help but marvel at the meticulously manicured grounds, the sprawling lawn, and the grandiose architecture.

The house itself was a statement of wealth—an impressive Mediterranean-style villa complete with marble pillars, wide open terraces, and windows so large they almost felt like walls of glass. Barbara’s backyard was even more ridiculous, the pool area a luxurious oasis, with a hot tub, waterfall features, and a fully equipped outdoor kitchen. The scent of freshly grilled food wafted in the air, and the sound of music played from outdoor speakers, giving the entire scene a carefree, almost surreal vibe.

You and Taylor were among the first to arrive, but a few other teammates were already there, mingling and laughing by the pool. You couldn’t help but notice the energy—everyone was in high spirits, laughing, talking, and basking in the summer warmth. You and Taylor dropped your things by a lounge chair, and she immediately began making suggestions about your outfit, insisting you needed something to grab Nicholas’s attention.

“Trust me,” Taylor said, eyeing you up and down. “If Nicholas doesn’t jump on you the second he sees this, he’s an idiot.”

She was referring to the white bikini set you were wearing, with cute red cherries printed all over the top and bottom. You had picked it out impulsively, but Taylor’s enthusiasm made you feel even better about the choice. You stripped off your cover-up and walked toward the pool with Taylor at your side, trying to keep the nerves at bay. Music played from the speakers as people were already enjoying the pool, splashing around and lounging under the sun. The air smelled like sunscreen, chlorine, and summer—the perfect atmosphere for a party.

You felt the cool water on your toes as you entered, your body immediately relaxing. The food spread was tempting, and the drinks were flowing, but your attention kept drifting to the entrance. You kept glancing back toward the gate, waiting for him to arrive. Every time someone walked in, your stomach dropped, thinking it was Nicholas. It wasn’t. And the anticipation was starting to feel almost painful.

Then, he finally walked in.

It was as if he stepped through the door in slow motion—his entrance completely owning the room. Nicholas was wearing nothing but a pair of trunks, no shirt, and damn, he looked incredible. His body was... perfect. His abs were defined, his chest was bulky but still ripped, the muscles in his arms were sharp, and even the way his trunks hung just low enough made your heart skip a beat. You wanted to look away, pretend like you weren’t even interested, but it was hard to ignore someone who looked like that.

You quickly turned your attention to the people around you, trying to act like you hadn’t just caught sight of him walking in. You didn’t want to seem eager, even though your stomach was flipping with the idea of what was about to happen.

It wasn’t long before Nicholas made his way toward the pool, walking over to the edge closest to you. He kneeled down, his eyes locking onto you as he flashed that trademark smirk, the one that made your chest tighten.

“So, how’s the water?” he asked, his voice smooth but with an edge of humor, as his eyes roamed and settled on your breasts as they bobbed in the water creating small waves.

You didn’t want to show how much his attention affected you, so you smirked back and shot a casual reply. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” You gestured to the pool with a mischievous look, inviting him to join you.

He took your cue, tossing his towel to the side and stepping into the water, the ripples spreading outward as he made his way toward you. There was no hiding the fact that you both had a simmering tension, but neither of you was willing to be the first to acknowledge it outright. You exchanged jabs and playful comments as you stood in the shallow end, water splashing around your legs.

After a while, Nicholas shifted, making his way deeper into the pool. You hesitated, not really a strong swimmer, and preferred to stay where you could touch the bottom.

“You coming?” he asked, his tone teasing, eyes glinting with that same challenge you were so used to.

“I’m good here,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You go ahead.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you?” he said with a wink. “I’ll keep you safe.”

There was something in his eyes that made it hard to say no. Reluctantly, you nodded. He extended his hand toward you, and you took it, letting him help you deeper into the water. The further you went, the higher the water got, eventually reaching just below your chin. When it was too deep for you to touch the bottom, he pulled you close, his chest pressing against yours in an embrace that left you breathless.

Before you could react, you instinctively wrapped your legs around him for support, and his arms came around your waist, pulling you in closer. You could feel his abs press against your stomach, his chest tight against yours, and—damn—it was hard to ignore the feeling of his body against yours, especially when you could feel him getting hard against you.

“Whoa,” he chuckled, his voice low and smooth as his hands settled around your waist. “Right here? In front of everyone?.” His tone is laced with the sarcastic tone that turned you on.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “I’m just trying to make sure I don’t drown, if i don’t want mouth-to-mouth from you”

Nicholas grinned, and the heat in his eyes made you feel like he was already undressing you with his gaze. “Well you rejected me once…,” he said, pulling you in closer, the muscle in his chest pressing against your stomach. His breath was steady, but you could feel his pulse quicken as he looked down at you.

You tried to ignore the way his body felt so firm and close to yours, focusing instead on your usual digs. “And yet, you clearly love a chase” you asked, tilting your head with a smirk.”

His lips quirked up into a smile, his eyes catching yours. “It’s not so much a chase at this point,” His grip tightened around your waist, and you could feel the subtle pressure of his muscles beneath the water. “The way your legs are wrapped around me right now…I thought I’d have to work a lot harder for that.”

You paused as your heart skipped a beat. You shot him a playful glare, “I actually don’t have a comeback for that,” your tone feigned a playful retreat. “But I wanna grab some of the fruit salad so can you carry me back to the edge stud?”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. “Well you’re losing with such grace, it’s the least I could do,” he said, his tone just slick enough to make your cheeks warm.

With an almost effortless motion, he floated you back toward the shallow end of the pool, the cool water rippling around you both. As soon as your feet touched the floor, you shifted to stand, but not before leaning in closer for one last jab.

You tilted your head toward him, lowering your voice just enough for only him to hear. “Oh, and by the way,” you said, smirking as you pushed a curl out of your face, “I wouldn’t say you’ve ‘won.’ The second I wrapped my legs around you, you were hard enough to poke a hole in my side.”

His breath hitched, his smirk faltering just slightly as his eyes widened in surprise. Before he could even process what you’d said, you winked and turned, pulling yourself up out of the water.

The air hit your skin, and as you stepped out, the droplets of water cascading down your body caught the sun, making your skin look like it was glowing. Your plush thighs flexed slightly with each step, your full hips swaying effortlessly as the cherry-printed bikini clung perfectly to every curve. Your stomach, soft and inviting, peeked out between the swimsuit pieces, the water droplets trailing down like a path Nicholas couldn’t help but follow with his eyes.

He swallowed hard, his blush deepening as his gaze lingered, clearly torn between being turned on and completely dumbfounded by your boldness.

You grabbed your towel, wrapping it loosely around your waist as you glanced back at him, your lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “Have fun cooling off, Nick,” you said over your shoulder, your voice light and teasing as you walked toward the fruit table.

Nicholas stood there for a moment, chest still heaving slightly as he watched you disappear into the crowd. “Damn,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with a faint, incredulous smile.

----

The backyard was buzzing with conversation and laughter as everyone ate, spread out across the lawn. The sun had slipped behind a layer of clouds, casting a muted gray light over Barbara’s extravagant outdoor setup. The clouds grew heavier, and though rain wasn’t in the forecast, everyone kept a wary eye on the sky.

You and Taylor sat together near the edge of the patio, chatting while finishing your burgers. Taylor leaned in, her tone playful. “So,” she started, waggling her eyebrows, “Are we gonna talk about you and Nicholas basically dry-humping in the pool earlier?”

You choked on your laugh, covering your mouth as you shook your head. “Taylor!” you said through a fit of giggles. “We were not!”

Taylor smirked, shrugging as she took another bite of her food. “Could’ve fooled me. You were all wrapped up around him like a koala.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, fine. But I think it’s going well. He’s definitely into me,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Taylor grinned, pleased. “Good! Finally!” she said, clinking her drink against yours. She started to ask what time you thought you should leave, but before she could finish, the sky opened up, and fat raindrops began to fall.

The peaceful scene turned into chaos as everyone scrambled to grab their things and get inside. Barbara, ever the eccentric host, ushered everyone toward the house, waving her hands dramatically as she shouted instructions. By the time you made it inside, you were damp from the sudden downpour, but at least you’d saved your plate.

Inside, everyone piled into the living room, which was decorated with retro, ’70s-inspired furniture. The centerpiece was a sunken conversation pit, complete with vibrant orange cushions and a massive coffee table in the middle.

Barbara clapped her hands together, her jewelry jangling with the movement. “Well, that was unexpected! I’m absolutely exhausted from hosting, so I’m heading upstairs,” she announced, sweeping a hand toward the stairs. “Feel free to hang out or head out whenever. Make yourselves at home!”

She disappeared in a flurry of gold bangles and silk, leaving the rest of you to settle in. The team naturally split into smaller groups, conversations bubbling up in various corners of the room. Nicholas wandered over and plopped down next to you and Taylor on the oversized cushions.

It didn’t take long before the two of you were completely in sync, your bodies naturally gravitating toward each other. At one point, your legs were thrown casually over his lap, his hand resting on your calf as you both laughed about something Taylor had said. Later, he laid down with his head in your lap, and without thinking, you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between your fingers. When he sat back up, you leaned against his shoulder, his arm brushing against yours, the closeness sparking something you couldn’t ignore.

At some point, Barbara’s husband asked Nicholas to help bring in some of the grilling supplies left outside. He reluctantly got up, leaving you and Taylor alone.

Taylor didn’t waste a second, leaning in with a grin so wide it practically split her face. “This is happening! I knew it!” she whispered excitedly.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress your smile. “Okay, fine, it’s happening. But don’t make it weird.”

Taylor waved you off. “When he gets back, we should all head out—leave you two alone to keep this momentum going.”

You were about to agree when your phone buzzed. It was a text from Nicholas.

Nicholas:

Hey, I think someone left their purse outside. Is it yours?

You frowned, intrigued, but got up to check it out. You told Taylor you’d be right back and headed down the hallway toward the kitchen, which led to the back patio.

But just as you passed the guest bathroom, a hand reached out and gently grabbed your arm, pulling you inside.

Before you could even react, the door clicked shut behind you, and you found yourself pressed against it, your back meeting the cool wood. Nicholas was standing inches away, his chest brushing against yours with each shallow breath. His eyes bore into yours, warm and intense, and you could feel the heat radiating off him in the confined space.

Your voice low and teasing, “That was a pretty smart text. Almost convincing.”

His lips curved into that familiar smirk, and he leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath on your skin. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice rough and dripping with confidence. “I do like the chase.”

Before you could respond, his hands slid to your hips, pulling you flush against him. The weight of his body pressed into yours, and you felt his grip tighten as your shoulder blades pressed into the door.

Your arms instinctively draped over his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck. For a moment, you just stared into his eyes, the air between you charged with anticipation.

“Well?” you said, your voice sly and challenging. “You gonna keep me waiting, or…?”

That was all it took. Nicholas closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and hypnotic, his mouth soft and deliberate as he explored yours. It was the kind of kiss that made the world around you disappear, leaving only the two of you in the haze of each other’s touch.

His hands slid from your hips to cup your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. When he finally broke away to trail his lips down your jawline to your neck, your breath hitched. He seemed to know exactly where to go, instinctively finding the spots that made your pulse race, kissing and biting gently at your skin.

Your hands tightened on his shoulders, your body arching into him as he pressed his lips to the sensitive curve of your neck. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop.

Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as if spurring him on, pulling him closer. Nicholas groaned softly against your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as the kiss deepened, each movement deliberate and consuming. He kissed you like he didn’t want to let go, his lips moving against yours in a rhythm that left you breathless.

His fingers brushed the strings of your bikini top, his touch lingering as if asking for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he gently tugged, the fabric slipping from your shoulders and falling effortlessly between you. He broke the kiss, his hands still resting at your waist, and leaned back just slightly to look at you.

The way his eyes widened, drinking in the sight of you, made your heart race. It wasn’t just lust—it was awe, the kind that made you feel worshiped under his gaze. “Fuck,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent. “I knew your body was insane, but…”

You didn’t even have time to laugh or respond because he leaned forward, taking your hard nipple into his mouth. His lips latched on, a low moan escaping as he suckled softly. His tongue flicked against the sensitive peak, sending shivers down your spine, and your hands instinctively found their way into his hair, fingers tangling as you held him close.

Nicholas alternated between gentle licks and firmer sucks, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His free hand trailed over your other breast, his thumb brushing across your other nipple with deliberate slowness, amplifying the heat building in your core.

You let out a soft whimper, your back arching as his mouth worked you over. The sound seemed to spur him on, and his hand tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer as if he wanted to devour every inch of you.

When he finally released your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes locked onto yours. They were dark with desire, a slight smirk playing on his lips as if he was proud of the effect he had on you.

You didn’t let him have the upper hand for long. Sliding your hands to his jaw, you pulled him up, your lips crashing into his in a kiss that was equal parts fiery and tender. As your mouths moved together, you guided him toward the counter, taking control of the moment.

With his back pressed against the edge of the countertop, you broke the kiss, your lips brushing his ear, he took a sharp inhale that had a hiss to it. “You want me to take care of you baby?” You whispered, your tone playful but laced with promise.

Nicholas let out a soft laugh, he tried to play it cool but he was too weak to actually speak. Completely wowed by your dominance, his breath catching as you kissed lower, leaving a trail of heat in your wake.

Your confidence grew with each reaction you pulled from him, his head tilting back as your mouth explored him. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as you kissed down his torso, feeling the taut muscles beneath your lips.

When you dropped to your knees in front of him, his breath hitched, and his gaze snapped down to meet yours. The anticipation in his eyes was undeniable, his lips parted as he watched your every move with a hunger that sent a thrill through you.

Your fingers toyed with the hem of his trunks, your lips pressing soft, teasing kisses along his hips before you slowly tugged the fabric down. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, his arousal impossible to ignore. The sight of him made your pulse race, but you kept your composure, wrapping your hand around him and planting soft, deliberate kisses on his tip.

Each kiss sent a shiver through him, his body tensing under your touch. His breathing grew heavier, and you could feel his restraint slipping with every press of your lips. When you finally took him into your mouth, his head fell back instantly, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips.

His chocolate-brown hair, still slick from the pool and rain, framed his face as he clenched his jaw, struggling to hold himself together. Your movements were deliberate, your head bobbing with a rhythm that drove him wild. Each time your tongue swirled over him, his moans grew louder, his resolve to stay quiet crumbling.

“Y/N,” he groaned, your name tumbling from his lips before he quickly covered his mouth with one hand, muffling the sound. The sight of him trying so hard to keep control only spurred you on.

When the pressure became too much, his hand slid to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you with slow, calculated thrusts. His hips bucked gently into you, each movement precise as he tried not to lose himself completely.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathy.

You glanced up at him, your eager eyes meeting his dazed, pleasure-filled ones. The vulnerability in his gaze made you feel powerful, and when he saw the look on your face, his lips curled into a weak smile.

“Just like that, baby,” he cooed, his voice breaking slightly as he tightened his grip on your hair. “Keep that pretty mouth open for me.”

Just then, he pushed himself to the black of your throat, keeping your head there until you gagged a little, pushing off of him. He leaned down to kiss you, gently slapping your face, “good girl”.

Nicholas helped you to your feet, his lips crashing onto yours in a deep, hungry kiss before he turned you around. You caught your reflection in the mirror, his eyes devouring you, and felt a rush as he slowly slid down your bikini bottoms.

He dropped to his knees, hands gripping your ass as he began to lap at you from behind. The sensation made your knees tremble, and when his tongue flicked over your sensitive nerves, you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped you. Your back arched instinctively, and you moved your hips, grinding against his face as he held you steady, his grip firm on your hips.

His lips wrapped around you, sucking gently, and you gasped his name, desperate for more. "Please, Nick, fuck me— I want you so bad," you begged, your voice ragged with need. He didn’t hesitate, his tongue more insistent, more eager.

A finger slipped inside, but as the pressure built, you felt yourself on the edge. "Nick, I’m gonna cum... please!" you cried out.

In one swift motion, he rose, positioning himself behind you. As he slid inside, a sharp breath left his lips, the tightness and warmth surrounding him almost too much. He slapped your ass, the sound echoing through the room as he began thrusting slowly, deliberately, making sure you felt every inch of him.

"You’re so fucking tight," he murmured, the words sending a shiver through your spine.

"Fuck, you’re so wet," he groaned, his pace picking up, his hands now gripping you tighter.

"You feel so good, baby," Nicholas continued, his praises falling from his lips, each one spurring you on.

Every time you dipped your head in pleasure, he tugged at your hair, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. "Look at yourself, baby girl. Look how good you look taking me."

The sound of your bodies meeting filled the bathroom, and you couldn’t help but wonder how no one heard you. But it didn’t matter— it only fueled the fire inside you. With each thrust, you arched deeper, matching his pace, your body consumed by the pleasure.

You found yourself in control of the situation as you thew yourself into Nicholas, he thre his hands up surrendering to your will. He moaned out while you braced yourself on the counter to continue your pace.

You gripped the edge of the counter, using it for leverage as you set the pace. Your back arched even more, alternating between consistent movements and then pulling back, just to take him all the way in. You pushed your hips back, forcing him deeper inside, making him groan in response.

“Fuck, baby... you’re so fucking nasty, I love it,” Nicholas breathed, his arms wrapping around your torso as his pace picked up.

His hands slid from your waist to your hips, his grip tightening. With a sudden, forceful pull, he yanked you back against him, taking control, and in one smooth motion, he began to set the pace himself.

You gasped, unable to stop the way your body reacted, completely at his mercy. His thrusts were hard and fast, each one driving you forward, your hands struggling to stay steady on the counter as the force of his movements pushed you closer to the edge.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “You like me taking control.”

You couldn’t help but moan in response, your body giving in to his every move. “Yes, Nick... fuck, yes,” you panted.

His pace grew frantic as he increased the pressure, his hands gripping your hips to steady you as he fucked you harder. His breathing became more ragged, his movements more desperate as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, baby... I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his voice strained, and you could feel the tension building in his body.

With one final, deep thrust, Nicholas pushed you over the edge. He came inside you with a low, guttural moan, his body tensing as he emptied himself. You followed close behind, your body trembling in ecstasy as you felt him finish, both of you catching your breath in the aftermath.

He stayed inside you for a moment, his hands still gripping your hips as he tried to steady himself. Slowly, he pulled out, his lips brushing the back of your neck in a tender kiss as he whispered, talked you down.

[washmouthing]

What are your thoughts on the mouthwashing characters?

FIRST ANON ON MY BLOG LETS GOOO

Andkdedjeidheidheu there is so much I could say. Where to start.

Curly is sooooooo. He makes me insane. I need to put him under a microscope. There are so many posts on my blog where people have talked about him in far more eloquent terms and I don’t know how to succinctly explain him in a way that wouldn’t take 10 paragraphs. But yeah. I love him so much even though he kind of sucks,,, blorbo from my game.

I want to beat Jimmy with a bat. Swansea should’ve ended him. The way the game leaves you in the dark about everything at the very start and you slowly find out about him and how shitty he is. I wish I could say I hated him but he’s such a good character that I can’t help but acknowledge him for his place in the story. As a person though. Horrific.

Swansea reminds me a lot of my dad 😭😭😭 which is kind of nice. I think he’s a really good guy and his relationship with Daisuke makes me incredibly miserable. Big Swansea fan, I should draw him at one point.

I LOVE DAISUKE SO MUCH IM GLING TO CRY HE DIDNT DESERVE WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM. He’s the babygirl of all time and he means so so so well, but he’s in such a shitty situation, like. My poor boy. Alexa play “I Bet On Losing Dogs” by Mistski. I think he’s really cute and pretty and also a really miserable character once you peel back how happy he appears to be. He just wants to make his mom proud and find his way :((((((

Anya. Oh my God. She’s so so so gorgeous and she makes me so miserable. She’s trying her best but she never expected things to get that bad, and she’s trapped in a tin can with the man who raped her. What the fuck. The fact that I have to purposefully seek out information about herself because otherwise we don’t learn about anything her because Jimmy doesn’t give a fuck. We learn more about her in the tiny stargazing scene with Curly than any of her conversations with Jimmy. It’s so. I can feel that she’s SUCHHHHHH an interesting person, but we just don’t get to know a lot about her!!!! I love her so much and I want her to take anxiety medication and go on holiday to Switzerland or something.

The embryo monster thing freaks me out and fascinates me in equal measure. I hate it.

[matoitech]

the shit that makes me the angriest abt wolfertinger666 is that ppl have been trying to alert abt him being just a rebranded account for puppychan who got ran off twitter for being a fucking freak and it hasnt got off the ground enough to do anything, bcuz hes drawing good furry jackoff material and building his brand over here on ''diverse rep'', on a site with a bunch of lgbt teenagers who werent connected to twitter furries enough to know who puppychan was and are not very good at recognizing fetish bait or reblog bait when they can see it yet. any time he gets into shit he acts like ppl dont like him bcuz they hate fat gnc trans men of color. its not bcuz you like your boobs and you know that lmao. hes a fucking adult he knows what hes doing but hes also an idiot and its way obvious w how he handles any of this that he hasnt learned a goddamn thing (and with the shit hes done there is no learning or growing. theres Jail Time). and he has the gall to throw other trans ppl under the bus while claiming that hes just drawing self representational art, that i guess everyone else is too Scared to draw (lots of ppl draw shit like this. he just gains a lot from telling you you have to support him and only him bcuz hes the only doing it no do NOT look elsewhere). no matter how much he pretends like hes drawing art to represent fat gnc trans men of color i have yet to meet one who doesnt look at his shit and instantly goes 'this is gross, hes horny baiting and it feels fetishistic'. ppl have fucking Eyes you dont need to share every facet of your being with this guy to point it out. generally adult trans ppl can smell the stink of this shit from a mile away. i dont need to list all the shit this idiot has done bcuz you can just go look up a comprehensive fucking list. you dont get to defend incest and be buddies with groomers, racefake and be super fucking racist in general, fake a pregnancy apparently, blame everything u ever did on u having an Evil Alter bcuz thats TOTALLY how dissociative disorders work, And More! like this is some insane internet freak shit this feels like its trapped in 2014 it doesnt belong in 2024 lmao. maybe ppl should ask themselves why this guys been ran off every fucking website except here and wonder if maybe there was a reason beyond 'you guys just hate chubby trans men with boobs!!!!'

man im too old for this shit whatever. he deserves to get ran off here too though. there r fat gnc trans men of color that r actually drawing representational art thats good, and theyre not pieces of shit. go support them instead

[alexandraisyes]

More ship headcanons? I do love to ramble. So let me get right on it.

Since you liked me mentioning SolarSun last time. Let's start there

Sun buys solar cups for his coffe with silly little jokes/phrases/pictures on them. Solar's favorite is the one with middel finger on the bottom on the cup that you can see when you take a big swig.

Solar makes charms out for the scraps of metal left over when he is working. Sun wears them on the friendship bracelets he shows off as example for the kids arts and crafts. He has so many that this point. He changes the charms for the example every day. (Solar so makes dublicates of his charms for the kids to use)

Sun was the first to confess, solar was the first to initiate a kiss.

They have secretly danced in the daycare together at night.

Servant Sun / Lord Eclipse.

Sun always makes a bunch of light snacks the morning that he either gives, or leaves in stratic places for his lord to eat. So that he takes better care of himself.

Lord eclipse doesn't enjoy cooking. But after a paricaliarly rough emotional night his servant had. He made him a lavish breakfast the next morning. After seeing how happy it made sun. He is now making breakfast more often just to see that same smile bloom on his face

Lord eclipse actively encourages his servant to read the books in his library to educate himself.And over time sun has started to, but just actively enjoys going though the romance fiction section more...he has noticed the section has grown since he started. Eclipce denies this.

The first time they kissed, was after they got into a fight while in another demenison. Servant sun had a perfect window to leave his lord. And eclipse really thought he would have despite their strained relationship having grown closer. Instead sun rushed in and decked one of the people trying to attacked him and managed to drag the both of them through the portal to their home. Sun had grabbed eclipse faceplate wig worry checking him over for injuries ,(the star was already healing them now that they were back) then with a sob of relief he was kissed.

Earth/eclipse v4

Eclipse hates how much he loves earths hugs. He hates it so much. It makes him feel all warm and weird. He has only hugged back once. It made it even better and that was even scarier.

Earth while learning to knit has made a few plushies. She gave eclipse a black cat one. He scoffed saying he was not sun before taking it. It's still on his desk to this day.

The first time eclipse received a kiss from her (it was on the forehead) he blue screen. It scared earth as hile collapsed for a second. She was sworn the secretary. She teases him in private though.

Eclipse doesn't go outside much. But if he does and sees a goose he takes a picture and send it to earth.

....

Well I think that was quite a few! Hope they were lovely

-Noffy

JKSADJFGLKDF THE CUP IM SCREAMING I might draw that later that's fucking gold Friendship bracelets. . . Yes yes yes Sunny's so shy but confident (but nervous) about confessing and they're both so fucking awkward for a little bit, and then Solar kisses him out of nowhere one day and poor Sun is melting. Solar put on Careless Whispers as a joke and Sun dragged him into dancing to it

KRONOS AND CRIUS LETS FUCKING GOOO God can this be canon please they're literally each other's everything

God shadowplanet beloved 🥺

They were lovely. Thank you for sharing. 🥺🥺🥺

Ask Game - Send Me FNAF/DCA/TSBS Ship Headcanons

[stevie-petey]

Now we gotta have Jonathan's pov lol jk

But what if we get his pov while they were discussing the stings of fate or just random thoughts throughout the season?

ooo anon im gonna try to do this without spoiling something i'll write later this season for 2 but YES !!

enjoy <3

"i have this theory that we're all connected to each other in some way by different threads." you say to jonathan. the november sun stings his eyes but he looks at you anyways and he listens.

he thinks theres some merit to your theory, he can feel a thread between you two as well. jonathan was tied to you the day you showed up on the wheelers porch and took him by the hand and dragged him alongside you.

you explain what all the threads mean, their different relationships and meanings, and jonathan cant help but wonder what your thread is with him.

"so, for our thread. after everything we've been through, all that we've done for one another, what thread would you say our's is?"

your face, which had just been open and relaxed, begins to close off from jonathan. the question has caught you off guard, he knows hes tripped over some line between you two, but hes not necessarily sure which line it is this time.

theres too many lines hes had to learn to navigate with you.

threads and lines.

"our thread..." your voice catches in your throat and jonathan can hear it all. "you know what our thread is, bee."

does he?

it all makes jonathans head spin, but theres a tug in his stomach that draws him closer towards you, that makes him pull you close. he doesnt know what makes him want to hear you say it, to admit what hes known ever since the day he met you. "do i?"

say it, please.

he knows you feel it, too.

you open and close your mouth a few times and jonathan watches helplessly as you swallow it all down like unpleasant medicine.

jonathan buried his brother today. hes sick of burials.

"y/n?" he whispers, pleading.

you try to speak again, but nothing comes out.

it angers jonathan. he knows what thread connects you to him, hes always known it, but youve never acknowledged it and hes never wanted to push you.

but...

you shake your head at jonathan and he decides that he really hates when you do that. push it all aside, pretend that its not there, as if there isnt a glaring ache thats settled between you two for a while now.

jonathan decides, fuck it.

he leans in, allows himself to try just this once, and when you lean in as well he thinks maybe it was always meant to be this way.

but then nancy comes and you look like a deer in headlights. youre scared. did he do that to you?

"you know id do anything for you, right?" jonathan wants you to understand that. to catch onto everything else within his words. hes yours and youre his and he doesnt want you to think anything else.

you tell him that you know, and he tells you youre his best friend and the words burn in his own throat as they slip from his lips. if this is what you want, if this is how things have to be, then he'll swallow it all down alongside you.

[thenocarts]

Re-ani headcanons because I haven't been able to draw these freaks in a while and I NEED to do something

Herbert berbert

•He HATES board games because he sucks so bad at them, nobody ever wanted to play with him and he refuses to let anyone explain the rules to him now

•His diet before the reagent consisted of oatmeal, cigarettes, fentanyl and cock, now he just mixes reagent with alcohol

•He wasn't that much of an asshole when he was younger, sparkly eyed thing he was, then the incident happen (he started trying to be god)

•He's IP banned from editing wikipedia

•He can tap dance, the theater gays kidnapped him when he was 14 and he learned against his will

•Despises theme parks but loves fairs

•Actually a pretty decent singer, and has a flare for the theatrics but will blush and murder if you comment on it

•Having said that I think it's hard for him to blush, even more so after the reagent, his blood is probably gooey

•i think he had some floppy grades, he was either first in class or didn't show up 90% of the time, it depended on how relevant he thought the class was

•Trans of gender

Danny boy

•He comes from a very Cristian conservative family that he cut off years before re-animator started because he's friends with a lot of queer people

•He also is weird about his sexuality, he thinks he's not allowed to be anything but straight even tho he knows he wouldn't be judged by anyone that matters to him

•He fucking loves hotdogs, his favorite food in the entire world, could survive just off that for years

•Has done yoga with older women before

•Golden boy of every school he ever was in, straight A's, never miss a class be it raining or snowing, if he was sick he crawled to school, had to be restrained

•Due to being with no family at like 15, he NEEDS constant reassurance and love because he feels like a failure and a heathen

•He's also, a little fucked up and evil but refuses to confront that fact and blames Herbert for all his evil acts

•He was always a little into fitness but after meg's death he became an extreme gym rat to cope and punish himself, that's why he's so jacked in bride

•Sneezes like a kitten

•Has never even been near the smell of a cigarette and it would kill him on the spot

Megan Hotwheels

•She is the only smart person in that whole ass movie (this is an objective fact)

•She's super into horror, she loves slashers and monsters, everything gorey and scary it's right up her alley

•Not that much of a girly girl, she just puts on the act for her dad, she does like girly stuff tho, she fucks heavily with pink and dresses just not in a cisgender way

•She's very artsy as well, she can paint a mean portrait and sometimes sells them for a little extra cash

•She is the one that found Rufus as a kitten, little flea infested miserable creature, her dad hates cats so she gave him to Dan and is the main corporate behind the fat shaming of her son

•Can roller skate!

•Her mom died when she was very young, she was murdered at her old home and it made her be extremely paranoid for a while, she never feels completely safe even tho she moved towns and they caught her killer

•She has her hair cut in a bob because she pulls at it when anxious and it's the shortest she's allowed to have

•She got bullied when she was younger for being a freaky little kid with huge wet eyes obsessed with killers

•She has a weird relationship with her dad, she loves him but it's frustrated by him because he believes she's this tiny little fawn of god who can't be exposed to the evils of the world, meanwhile she has fucked nasty and probably done some weed, she's an adult and he treats her like a kid

•Shes super into indie bands that not even God knows exist

•"Im probably nonbinary but my dad is dead so idc about that rn"

[pumpkinsy0]

i need tarry being parents to the siblings hcs PLEASE

tarry as parents w their siblings coming right up anon ☝🏽🤵🏽‍♀️

FIRST OFF darry w curly and angela

•we all already know how darry feels about curly, BUT now that he’s gettin w tim, he HAS to get along w him now🙄

•everytime curly pisses him off he cant even kick him out no more, he just pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs, and goes “ok lets try this again”

•in darrys truck, curlys that kid where no matter if u packed this mf snacks or something to keep him from annoying everyone else around him, he would kick the back of darrys seat while hes trynna drive

•darry and angela dont rlly, have much to say to each other, not even that they hate each other, they just have nothing to rlly bond over, all their convo’s r pretty short and basic like a “so how was ur day 🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏻‍♂️”

•i could see darry helping angela w homework, she could go to tim but she dunno where he is and darrys right there cooking dinner

•everything they do together, its just quiet, like theres rlly not much to say about em, they dont hate each other, maybe they giggle about at how crazy curly can b at times, but other than that, they keep to themselves around each other

NOW MY FAV BIT,,,, tim w soda and pony,,,,

•tim would find pony funny, and pony doesnt even mean to be, he does or says something and tim chuckles and shakes his head while ponys thinking “whats so funny????”

•pony and tim r both artist,,,let them draw together and show each other their drawings,,, i could also see tim liking to read a bit, not as much as pony but a decent enough amount for pony to be like “omg???” they have a small lil book club

•pony gets used to tim but also has a but of “oh my god thats tim shepard” feeling within him still, meanwhile tims calling pony small nicknames like little man or somethin along those lines

•tim and soda r like, the most open to each other if that makes sense, they r pretty buddy buddy but not that close, sodas just an easy person to get along w

•while darry has no clue how to interact w curly amd angela, tims over yuckin it up w soda, watching tv

•they rlly only talk during certain parts of the day bc they r busy guys, in the morning they just share like a good morning or something but come afternoon theyre sharing stories over card games

NOW FOR THEM ALL TOGETHER!!!

•they dont even live together, tim was over at the curtis house for a while and curly and angela came over cause whyyyy have u been over there for the past couple days king, we need u</33

•them sleeping on the couches all together watching tv??? awww yeaaa

•the curtis’ took the shepards fishing once (ONCE, it took a bit of convincing to do) and theres a few pics to remember that

•darry makes them their snacks and tim drives the lil bastards to school (and soda to work)

•u cannot escape haitian shepards, darry learned how to speak french in high school and the shepards know french already so im betting all my money that darry and tim could b having a secret convo in french in darrys room “so the kiddos dont hear” but lil do they know, curly and angela r eavesdropping and pony and soda r right there waiting for them to translate

•tims had to get used to pony just waltzing into darrys room bc he had a nightmare and he can handle that, but what he CANT handle is pony standing at the foot of the bed bc pony has a very specific stare and all he sees is his eyes, its like hes the fucking devil child sometime

•they have to constantly argue on wether or not theyre having haitian food or american food, not only for themselves, but for their gangs as well

•speaking of food, the shepards will never get used to soda adding fucking food dye to the food man

[skyfallscotland]

Hey girlie!!!!!

You're not alone in your frustrations with OS. I get that "it the third book, there's going to be world building since it wasn't done earlier blah blah blah" but I personally feel like the ground work should have been done in FW and IF, for continuity and consistency. As most things are...That was one of my biggest gripes about OS. It felt like RY threw everything into a blender and expected us to identify/differentiate what was going, with little to no context. It also kinda felt like a money grab (leaving more questions so the audience stays engaged for book 4 and 5).

I concur about the POV thing, Violet is not a "reliable narrator" but if that's the cause, make it 3rd POV. For the audience's sake, I would not want to leave them confused about your magic system. It just feels sloppy and lazy. It felt like we were reading RY's stream of consciousness, like "Oh heres a thing that just came up in my brain and im going to FORCE it into the story line even if it doesn't make sense". Maybe things will be explained in the later books but I personally feel like that's not necessary.

The fanservice was so jarring for me, it was fine at first, but when it kept happening and it felt like Ridoc was essentially voicing what the fandom felt... I was like "good to know this is canon but also this is supposed to be a romantasy novel, be what you are you supposed to be, not a fanfic".

It also felt like OS was a fanfic I was reading, for which I paid $15 for... and for $15... i personally would not recommend it to anybody ngl. I'm already stuck in this here and I love the fandom too much to leave.

Don't get me wrong, there were parts that I enjoyed (the little side quest arc was probably the most enjoyable for me but it also felt like a filler episode in an anime). The side characters honestly saved it for me. Drake/Mira and the fucking kitten, Sloane/Dain (the yearning???maybe im delulu but whatever). As much as I love Riorgail, I was over it tbh. It felt artificial to me? The no sex the entire book unless there wasn't any magic but all of sudden (right before shit hit the fan? BFFR. I knew it was going to be the last time the were physically together)

Violet was delusional a lot of the time (I get it, when the man you love is becoming the bad guy, I probably wouldn't want to accept that reality either, but if you're telling me she has the "mind of a scribe" she better be logical as fuck, and girlie was not logical, Ridoc was the voice of reason on the isles and told her to draw a line) OR things were just not expanded on enough, like the fact that she just "knew" so much stuff. I get it she's smart, but if we're in her head, we should know what she's learning. I hated that when she came to a conclusion/revelation that she was afraid of, she didn't voice them to the audience. We're the readers, not her friends

Also the fact that there wasnt "any magic" on the isles, but there actually is some??? Fuck off lol

Overall the experience was confusing/jarring but I had a feeling that would be the case, based on my exp from IF (I hate being right) Again idk if it was RY or Red Tower that pushed to have 5 books but i felt like certain parts of the book could have been more concise, instead of leaving the end of a chapter on a cliffhanger. It felt like it was overdone, that by the end of the book, I was over the feeling of "being on edge".

I have to wonder if this is a result of the Iron Flame debacle too, like if some of this worldbuilding could have been in that before it got split, but somehow I don’t think so.

That whole book feels so…I can’t even think about it. The fact we spent all that time and drama trying to get wards and then just…altered them with a rune almost immediately with little effort? 🥺

I definitely understand the stream of consciousness thing. I felt like…like my brain is always searching for patterns, right? It’s how it works, daily, and the way she wrote this there was no connection to anything, the chapters were jarring, there was no link between the plot, subplot, no conjoining thread. It felt like my brain was looking for it like you look for the horizon when you’re on a boat…but the boat keeps jarring you beneath your feet. Does that make sense? It probably doesn’t, but it’s just this feeling like you’re out of your depth.

There were parts I enjoyed too, but since that feeling underlies it, it coloured the whole experience.

I definitely had the feeling of being on edge too and I saw someone say they think the marketing contributed to that and I agree but maybe it was the writing too? I don’t know, I was anxious the whole time for little discernible reason—maybe because they told us we were going to hate the end, I guess?

Anyway thank you for reaching out, I almost regret sharing because I hate being the minority and feeling like everyone is judging me, and I feel like a lot of people get mean when you can’t just ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ your way through it. I wish I could. 🖤

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[natsmagi]

sorry for making yet another textpost but i came across that post saying they dislike transfem natsume because he "canonically hates being perceived as a girl and tries to erase all sorts of memories related to that" and also went on to shame genderbends of him aswell. So, as someone who not only draws genderbends of natsume but is myself someone who is nonbinary and hates being perceived as a woman, i thought id offer my two cents

first of all; i think its important to note that natsume does NOT hate his childhood. in fact, hes quite happy that he had such an unusual upbringing!

what natsume hates is being perceived as weak. thats why he was raised as a girl after all, it was his mother trying to protect him from evil spirits. he doesnt hate the whole "-chan" or "wearing dresses" thing because he has a hatred for womanhood, its because due to his upbringing hes now come to associate those things as being weak. he begs tsumugi to forget about it because that means tsumugi remembers natsume being weak, and natsume thinks tsumugi still referring to him as "natsume-chan" means he still sees natsume as weak. (iirc natsume did however once say that he is a little sad that he doesnt really know how to relate to young boys due to this in poltergeist, but i couldnt find the exact quote. either way that just adds to the complexity of natsumes relationship with his childhood, because while he is happy to be "abnormal" in that sense, it has left him lacking in some areas)

i have to ask though, should this conflict of his not be something we hope he overcomes? should we not want him to develop a healthy relationship with various gender expressions? should we not want natsume to overcome his belief that feminine things = weakness? i want natsume to reach a point where he can wear feminine clothing and not feel like some damsel in distress because of it. i want natsumes character to grow. i want him to develop a positive relationship with his gender because natsume DOES enjoy some more typically feminine things, like baking! he used to bake with his mom when he was little! and i want him to feel like he can indulge in that side of him without feeling insecure.....

i LOVE transmasc natsume, my primary hc for him is transmasc nonbinary after all, but with all these things considered, shouldnt people be allowed to headcanon him however they want? if they hear his story and negative relationship with femininity and how that resonates with them and they themselves are transfem, should they not be allowed to hc him as such too?

which brings me to my next point; my own personal relationship with gender and femininity. i was raised as a girl and i fucking DESPISED womanhood. i hated everything about it. i hated how i felt forced into a box i didnt want to be stuck in, and i hated how it felt like my whole life had already been planned out for me due to societal expectations, aswell as me needing to present a certain way. i was peak "tomboy" growing up, constantly wearing super baggy clothes and wouldnt even brush my hair alot of the time. but despite that i remained miserable. i frankly hated how i looked and would constantly dye my hair vibrant colors in an attempt to make me like myself a little more. it wasnt until i realized "wow, im actually not a girl at all" that i finally let go of believing i needed to look a certain way (and thus, defying it) and started to dress for myself. i started to dress in clothes that made me happy and feel pretty! alot of which leans feminine, but clothes doesnt have a gender, and how you dress doesnt define your gender either, but it can still be a bit scary yknow? especially since i dont want people to think of me as a girl, and drawing a bunch of femstars has really made me learn to love myself more in a funny way. i can put these characters in clothes i think are beautiful, i can explore the more feminine parts of me that i adore but dont want to express in public due to how i want others to perceive me, but it has also warmed me up to femininity even more. because femstars to me feels detached from the expectations of society because its not a real thing!! there are no canon femstars designs!!! i can do literally whatever the hell i want with it and its been so liberating to me!!

all this to say; i think it really sucks seeing the way this fandom treats transfem hcs and explicit genderbends, because like ive said before; they can truly be something so personal. you dont know why that person is drawing what theyre drawing, so its a little unwise to make assumptions based on ........ Well, whatever it may be. i know very well that women dressing the way society expects them to SUCKS, esp if you have personal ties to it, but you have to realize the issue isnt femininity, but misogyny.

[dragonroilz]

Hey there! I've come across your art ever since I got into Risk of Rain 2 (better late than never, I've been sleeping on this game for years, jesus), and I'm enamoured with it, to say the least. Is there any advice you could perhaps give for an aspiring artist?

you're getting an essay whether you like it or not.

tl;dr of it if you dont want to read

- learn how to take critique

- dont skip fundamentals

- tracing is okay*

- be mindful when drawing

- you wont see good results for a long time

ok firstly, glad you like my art! i try my best on pretty much everything i make so the compliment is greatly appreciated!!

secondly, you have NO clue how much i love yapping about how to draw. im not an expert on how-to-draw-ology but i like to think i know enough to help other people not swing in the dark when it comes to getting better.

learning how to take criticism is THE most important part. not getting butthurt or at least listening to peoples critiques when they mean well is critical to improvement because its specialized advice for you. you have no clue how many young and/or new artists have gotten mad at me for giving critique when they specifically asked me for it. if youre looking to improve you gotta bite that bullet. not all criticism is valid(dont listen to people who are just tryna make you upset), but good and valid criticism can come from anyone. dont unvalidate someone's critique just because theyre not an artist or "not as good" as you. try and get as much feedback as you can and move onto the next piece instead of fixing something to perfection. you will get obsessed in a very destructive way.

learning fundamentals is another step to getting better. that means actually learning perspective, hands, anatomy, and all of the other stuff people hate drawing. its like lifting weights. most people dont like it but if you want to get stronger you need to put in the time to do the painful stuff.

chris christodoulou(ror's composer) actually made a similar comment about the topic of improvement in his field that was along the lines of "if you want to write music, stop playing video games and read a book". he got a lot of shit for saying that but honestly its true.

you need to treat art as a discipline if you want to get better at it. draw as much as you can for as long as you can before it becomes a health hazard. when im not resting i tend to draw at least three hours a day, not counting the 3 to 6 hours additional hours a day i draw during college. obviously a beginner doesn't need to draw that much but drawing daily is a good start.

if you want resources on where to look for fundamentals, Sinixdesign and Ethan Becker were who I turned to for advice that is relevant to the industry. There's definitely others out there but I tend to do more self studying so i don't know the more recent stuff.

something that they'll bring up is that tracing isn't bad AS LONG AS YOU DONT POST IT AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN. it's a good way to see how other people deal with stylization, but its absolutely not okay to post that stuff online. treat it like how traditional painters do master studies. its for your own education, not clout. and you shouldn't be drawing for clout anyway.

last but not least, draw what you love and you'll always love drawing. dont be afraid to hyperfixate and lose interest in things. it will help you continue your art journey. a lot of people in my art school have little to no motivation to draw outside of college because they have no interest in drawing outside of assigned work, which is not a great relationship to have with art if you want to pursue it in the long run. draw what you want to draw when the motivation hits you. if that motivation is risk of rain? draw it. if it's leg muscles then fuck yeah draw that too.

you can stick fundamental practice into your casual art by being mindful of what you are drawing. that can be done by asking questions about what's going on to further the progress of your art. its kind of hard to explain in text, but its basically just keeping in mind how your lines influence the piece.

in the beginning youre going to have ideas and none of them are going to translate to paper. its going to take years before anything will ever compare to whats in your brain and thats just the sucky part. ive been drawing seriously for about 5 or 6 years and theres still a ton of shit i do NOT wanna touch but i have to if i want to improve.

we're all sisyphus pushing that goddamn stupidass boulder and the only thing we can do is acknowledge how far we've come while still knowing that there's more work to be done. but thats kind of the shit that i live for.

[gamzeeztoefungez]

Vent

I feel tired, I don’t feel silly anymore

I had a fucking hard day at school

People in my class were being annoying

Especially in Spanish class

I cant Even figure anything out in it (My mom expects me to learn Spanish quickly again)

I hate myself

The scars on my right wrist, why can’t I just stop picking at myself

And I’ve done it my whole life

And i try and try to stop

Why can’t i stop

why

And i Even got mad at my friend today

I don’t like getting mad at my friends

it makes me feel like a bad person

I wanna be happy

And I’ve been getting more angry lately

i wanna be a happy person

i dont wanna pull a karkat

i wanna be happy like Nepeta

It isn’t fair

And my parents blame my phone and tablet

Don’t u ever question what goes on with my mental health?

All the shit i had to go through

And you blame a fucking device

I cant Even say im depressed to my parents since they think depression is “fake”

I feel like I will never heal

I just wanna be happy again

Plz

It isn’t fair

At this point i don’t know who i am anymore

who am i

who am i

who am i

And just to make myself suffer more i keep telling myself “all the stuff I have in my room, the posters the drawings, everything, I don’t deserve it. None of the cool figures, I don’t deserve any of it…”

I Even feel terrible because why the hell can’t I remember basic needs like eating and drinking water

Even basic hygiene i always forget

I can’t even focus in school

I Even told my parents that I want a therapist, they said they would get me one, never did

why

It isn’t fair

It isn’t fair