#i hope this is okay anon!

[afewproblems]

sorry i’m still stuck on cheater eddie, just wondering how you think things would play out after that? like you said, I can’t see steve forgiving eddie after that but personally would love to see eddie realize how much he messed up

(Based on this post)

Oh, I think Eddie would know immediately that he screwed up. He did call the next day with some semblance of a plan to talk to Steve, to try and explain himself, apologize as best as he could.

Unfortunately the internet works just a bit faster than Eddie realized. It's a minor story on the entertainment channels, Corroded Coffin only recently became public figures again for the first time in ten years, but it's still looping every hour on the hour.

The band is upset, obviously; Gareth won't talk to him and Jeff follows Eddie with the stink eye wherever he goes. Grant lectures him for an hour before shaking his head and leaving the room, but he hasn't brought it up since.

Robin calls Eddie almost immediately and tears him a new one, he has to hold the phone away from his ear for most of it. It's harsh, she spews her vitriol and calls him a coward, that he couldn't have loved Steve as much as he claimed to if he went and stuck his dick in someone else.

He wants to argue the latter, but she hangs up on him before he can get the chance.

The home phone in Eddie and Steve's Chicago apartment rings and rings the first three times he calls before finally going directly to voicemail on the fourth.

The worst is Wayne though.

It's a day after Robin's call, he asks about the papers -there's a laugh in his voice as he does. Eddie had been no stranger to tabloid claims before, in fact Eddie kept the National Enquierer Bat Boy clipping and framed it, but there are quite a few articles this time.

All about the same photo.

So Wayne calls, with that gentle, confident, laugh in his voice because they've really done it this time.

"You see The Star Ed? Absolutely ridiculous. Have you kids talked to your agent about all these stories yet?"

"Wayne--"

"I mean this is just silly, I bet your boy found it hilarious!" The words crackle with static as Wayne laughs into the receiver, "is he there? It's spring break for him now right?"

Eddie clutches the phone in sweaty shaking fingers, his heart climbs up his throat as he tries to find his voice.

"Wayne, I," he swallows harshly and scrubs a ringed hand over his face, "I messed up".

There's a pause on the other end of the line, as though the call cut out, but Eddie can still hear his uncle breathing.

"Eddie, you didn't..." Wayne says softly, almost in a whisper, "tell me you didn't..."

"I don't know what to do," Eddie blurts out, his breathing picks up, "he won't talk to me, my band won't talk to me, I fucked up, I just don't know how to fix this".

Wayne sighs, Eddie can hear him pace around the kitchen, "son," he murmurs softly into the receiver, "just take a deep breath, and listen for a second".

Eddie nods, not caring that his uncle can't see him through the phone, he feels like he's sixteen again and waiting for the other shoe to drop when Wayne collects him from the police station for the very first time.

"I'm going to say this once, because I know I raised you better than this and you're probably feeling pretty lousy already," Wayne says slowly before clearing his throat, "if fixing this is just to make you feel better, then it ain't really fixing anything".

"Steve probably doesn't want to hear a thing you have to say right now and you have to give that to him--"

"Wayne--"

"I mean it Eddie, you and Steve went through so much together that I didn't think there was anything that could ruin it, and there you go proving me wrong".

The words are a punch to the gut that immediately bring tears to Eddies eyes. He holds his breath and bites his lip to stop the sob that threatens to wrench itself from his chest.

"I hope you had the decency to come clean," Wayne continues tiredly, he grunts as he sits down, most likely at their old mismatched kitchen table.

"I called him but..."

Wayne hums in understanding before blowing out the words, "well-shit-son," in a single breath.

They talk for a bit longer before Eddie asks Wayne to check on Steve for him, to make sure he's okay.

"If I know my son in-law he's the farthest thing from okay right now Ed, but I'll do my best," Wayne grumbles and Eddie winces, because he's right.

He hangs up with a soft goodbye, closes his eyes and crawls into the hotel room bed.

The thread count is high in the sheets, the fabric soft and rich between his fingers, but it's nothing compared to the well-worn cotton sheets at home. Sleepwarmed and bathed in gold morning light, he can almost feel Steve in his arms.

Eddie opens his eyes.

But he's alone and the bed is cold.

Eddie lays there, allowing himself to finally cry for the first time in days, staring at the empty spot beside him.

[cryptid-stimming]

Frank Frankly (Welcome Home) Stimboard for Anon (with monochrome, insects, letters & books)

x x x / x x / x x x

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: a close-up gif of someone trailing their fingertips over a book page, a close-up gif of someone flipping through a pop-up book of butterflies, and a gif of someone tracing the postage stamps on an envelope before the gif jumpcuts to them opening the envelope to reveal the letters inside.

Second line: a close-up gif of someone flipping through a vintage illustrated book about insects with ladybugs/ladybirds and fireflies, a still image of the character Frank Frankly from Welcome Home, and a gif of someone holding a 3D paper model of a firefly in a frame.

Third line: a gif of someone rotating a paper 3D model of the lifecycle of a butterfly, a gif of someone pulling a vintage book from a shelf of books, and a gif of someone writing a letter with a pen.

End of image description.]

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[dailyhogz]

The Sonic Adventure 2 poses but with Amy and Silver

166. LIVE AND LEARN!

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

kim seokjin for harper's bazaar korea

[nataliescatorccio]

LUCY GRAY BAIRD'S RAINBOW DRESS The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023) Costume Design: Trish Summerville

[gkdmts]

may I ask for riddle? Your art is lovely ❤️❤️❤️

ay thanks! <3 <3 and here you go! the scribbles have a nice day : )

gee the last one is totally effortless but he looks funny here so ill show this one too

[yayll]

~ a little something about Beast Dazai and his inability to let you go ~

Your hand trembles as you're about to knock on the massive office doors and you wonder if you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You got too close working for this terribly lonely man, and now you're knocking at his door with the only solution you can think of to put an end to your silly infatuations that have gone on for longer than you'd want to admit and can possibly handle. You open the door slowly, and walk into the elegant and massive office space, your eyes falling right onto the dark haired man in all black hunched over the desk, scribbling away as if he didn't hear you come in. You walk quietly, and when you reach the wooden desk, your voice comes out soft and firm.

"Dazai, sir? I wanted to speak to you about something sensitive, if I may."

You chew on the corner of your bottom lip, but quickly compose yourself when you see the face of the man you've spent so much time with, the unfortunate love of your life. if it weren't for his Maroon scarf, he'd look like nothing but a black void. A burnt Black cat. He looks up, narrowed eyes scan you as he takes a sip of his tea, replying in a monotonous tone.

"What is it?"

"After much consideration, I think.. I need to leave the Port Mafia. We've worked together for quite a while now, and I can assure you it's not about the quality or enjoyment of my work. You don't even have to acknowledge this beyond me simply saying it, I just have to confess something that makes my heart ache. You make my heart ache. I know how unprofessional that sounds and that you have no use for such affections, but I can't keep pretending. It's why I think it's time for me to move onto something else otherwise my work will become disrupt-"

A lifted finger is shoved into your face, signaling you to stop, and so you do. Of course you do. You always had a habit of word vomiting when you were anxious. Dazai is staring down at his tea, and he stays quiet for a long time, trying to pick what emotion he can mask his real outraged ones with. Finally, he flashes you an unbothered look, his eyes half lidded as they taunt you. A cruel smirk curls onto his lips.

"Oh? What an awful time for your honesty! I'm currently drowning in work and responsibilities, ones that you're supposed to aid me with, actually. Thus, I have no use for your confession." He simply says.

You can feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You expected this. Looking down at your shoes, you chew on your lip again.

"I had to tell you.. Like I said, you can just forget about it."

"Well you see, that's the problem. I can't forget it. The moment you uttered those nasty little words to me, I realized I have to carry the weight of finding a new secretary. And I resent that."

He looks away for a brief second, his words are bitter and laced with what sounds like remorse and irritation.

You cross your arms and sigh, your voice comes out lower than your confidence.

"I just thought that we were... I suppose I should have never dared to assume you'd ever see me as more than a-"

He instantly leans over his desk, now placing a finger on your lip, his voice just above a whisper.

"... And though these feelings you have for me may be inconvenient, it doesn't mean that they're unwelcome."

He lets his finger rest on your lips for just a second too long, meanwhile you're frozen in place feeling like your chest is going to collapse in on itself. His voice becomes softer.

"Sit, please."

You sit down, now facing each other. It's quiet for a few moments as you both study each other's expressions. This form of intimacy was unusual to everyone else but the two of you, having spent countless hours in the past working across one another without uttering a single word, yet communicating in perfect sync. You were a part of each other's routines, a never ending spiral. Dazai feels himself teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something peeling away at his very soul. He's usually so arrogant and domineering, but in this instant, he suddenly feels an exhaustion wash over him trying to keep that going. He's kept it going for so long, he forgot that he doesn't like doing it with you. You don't deserve to be a part of all of this, and he doesn't deserve to want you.

Oh how he loathes his true identity: A simple man. A human man. Your man.

When he can't take it anymore, he slowly creeps his bandaged hand on top of yours, applying light pressure, but his eyes don't dare look into yours. Not yet. Finally, you break the silence, staring down with furrowed brows at the way your hands fit around one another. You mutter under your breath, tired of being vague.

"What are we to each other, Dazai? I mean really?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He snorts, trying to cling to the last of his cruelty but failing as he lets his emotions sway his judgement.

You sigh, flipping your hand over so that your fingers can fully intertwine.

"I just don't know how I could ever take up any space in your mind. I didn't think you noticed whether I stayed or left."

He looks up, flashing you a mildly offended look, his sharp eyes narrowing. He scoffs quietly, dropping your hand and standing up from his desk. He walks over to you, his full height now looming. He bends down and scolds you.

"What an obscene thing to say. You're invaluable. You have always been occupying my mind, every minute, every second, every microsecond. I always notice. I'd notice even if I was on my deathbed."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you finally manage to swallow the lump that's building up as you stare up at your reckoning.

"I just- I'd never try to leash you, sir."

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head slightly. You drive him mad with the way you don't realize what a dog he is for you. His voice comes out strained.

"You wouldn't need to. And don't call me that. You know my name, and as your superior l'm ordering you to address me properly."

Your cheeks flush, and you part your lips, letting out the breath you can't stop holding. A faint smile appears on your face, and you stand up slowly to meet him.

"You're like the moon, you know? You control everything like the tides. You control me, Osamu."

He shakes his head, and sighs deeply. If only you could see how wrong you were. He steps closer, moving his hand up your arm gently as he trails his way to your collarbone with ghost-like strokes.

"Did you know that sometimes when I'm laying in bed, all alone after a long day of controlling things, my only thoughts are about you?"

He confesses, sincerely. Dazai brings his face inches from yours, his voice now becoming a pleading whisper. His hand travels down to your waist, gripping it gently.

"Do you find it hard to believe that you bring me to my knees, the big scary Port Mafia boss? Because if so, you're a great fool! I love spending my time with you. I quite literally need you by my side in my times of need and at any random and mundane moment that passes. It brings me unimaginable joy when you nag me to get more sleep, especially when I don't listen because I can't wait to hear you say it over and over again. I don't like it when you have plans, or when you report to anyone else but me. I want you to stay with me tonight and every single night after and I don't care how awful this sounds. I don't care about you having a life outside of me."

Your throat feels tight, eyes wide at the fervor of his words alone. You reply with a shaky breath.

"Every single night after?"

"Every. Single. Night. After..."

"As if we were together?"

"We are together." He declares as if it were obvious this entire time.

Hearing Dazai be so blunt makes your mind fog over quickly, a whiplash of feelings that you never thought would ever see the light of day suddenly surface. He feels the same, realizing how much he's given away to you in such a short amount of time, but for him it's been rotting inside for years. He's been held together by the glue of your support too long not to kneel for you now. It's over for him, he's run out of masks to wear. He slowly guides your body backwards towards the opulent leather couch at the center of the room. You stop when you feel yourself backing up into the cool pebbled hide, and he slowly lowers you down onto your back with his arms supporting you. He delicately hovers over you, looking deeply into your eyes as he takes in the way your bodies feel against each other. For a moment he worries he might actually be trembling.

His breath hitches when you place a hand on the bandaged side of his face that covers his left eye. You stroke the fabric lightly, eyes twinkling with unfiltered adoration. He thinks about the only other person who's ever looked at him with such reverence, and how painful it is not to be able to tell his best friend he's in love. He leans into your touch, humming softly and closing his eyes as he molds his lips deeply into yours. It's not a kiss of sexual desire. This is a kiss born of romance and intimacy, a mutual oath of surrender. cold bandaged hands instinctively wander your body, starting at the waist down to your hips, and slowly exploring the plush of your thighs, kneading them. He runs them higher, lightly tracing your ribs with his index finger while the other hand cups your face. Dazai's mouth moves gently, and slowly pulls away from yours with a soft whine. His fingers trace your jawline as he stares at you. You taste like milk and honey. Like the moon and rain. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling like the night sky. You feel his heartbeat against your body. Every single pore of your skin is connected.

"Please— don't leave the Port Mafia, and don't leave me alone... Not tonight. Not ever. I'd become a tyrant without you."

"Is that also an order?" You murmur in between shallow breaths, dreamy eyes trained on him.

His eyes flicker over to your lips for a moment, then return to your eyes. His voice drops to something that resembles a soft whimper.

"Noo. No, it's not. I could never demand anything from you. But if you'll allow me to act selfishly, I just want to make you happy, to see you smile. I want you to keep greeting me with that tea you make every morning before our meetings. I also never want to hear you call me 'Sir' again. I am not your boss or your friend... I'm so much more than that. We've always been together. We will always be together— Is this too much?"

You shake your head, smiling uncontrollably at the way Dazai rambles in this moment, it's a side of him you've never seen in all the years you've known him. A stark contrast from the detached and cruel presence that frightens others on an almost daily basis. This seems like a person pretending to be the boss of the Port Mafia, an almost perfect imitation. You're not sure what barriers within him had to break for him to become the mushy and needy mess you see before you and what it all means in the long run, but you dismiss it for now. You get the feeling this might be the real Osamu Dazai. And that excites you.

"Never too much. I'm here and I'm staying. I would always stay."

He chuckles, it's a broken shaky laugh bordering on a sob. He buries himself in your neck, smiling against your soft skin, nibbling on it. He lightly runs his tongue against the mark he leaves, and slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours

"... I know you would. You always do."

You tilt your head, and hum in mild confusion at his odd little comment.

"Do you know something I don't?"

He flashes you a knowing smile and speaks prophetically as he lightly traces a finger over a large vein on your neck, following it down to your soft chest. He murmurs lazily while bringing his lips down to where he won't be able to get them off for the rest of the night.

"I know everything, silly.~"

The Port Mafia can wait, he's going home first.

[taintandviolent]

From smut prompts can you do a combo of 2 and 57 for Remy Lebeau x female!Reader?

Love your writing and can’t wait for part 2 of Taco tuesday!

warnings: smut (doggy-style), dirty talk, uhhhhhh i dunno what else. mirror sex? yeah.

His groans are more frequent, breathing ragged. Suddenly, he reaches around to your face, his strong hand gripping your jaw, straightening your head gently. Your eyes are still closed, painfully heavy with arousal. He’s fucked you senseless, and without his current support, you can barely hold your head up. 

“Look at your reflection, cher.” he murmurs. His voice is sultry, laden with arousal and you peel your lids back, swallowing hard. You’re suddenly faced with your own reflection; the mirror on the back of your door. It’s parallel to your bed, and until right then, you somehow forgot that. To Remy, it had been an intentional, calculated move. The position you two were currently in was one that felt impersonal to him sometimes, but because you had a mirror, he still got to enjoy all the subtle nuances of your arousal, and the way you responded to his body.

Doing it doggy-style, you’re on your knees and elbows, and Remy is tall behind you, all brawn. Your eyes flit to your own image somewhat apprehensive, for no man has ever made you look at yourself during sex and you’re not sure what you’re about to find. To your surprise, it’s not embarrassing, nor is it something that kills your high. 

The way the light filters in from your bedroom window casts you in a dreamy yellow haze, flushing your skin with a light glow. Your gaze is lust blown, your cheeks are flushed, your ample cleaveage is rocking back and forth with the force of his movements, and your hair mussed up from where he’d been holding onto it. He thrusts his hips into you once, hard, and your expression contorts into one of pleasure, body shuddering against the action. Seeing it in the mirror is a new experience, but the visual turns you on even more. If you were going to be honest with yourself, you were hot.  

You grip the sheets, making fists in the fabric as Remy hammers into you. Your jaw drops, and a low, erotic moan of pleasure tumbles out over your flushed lips. He, too, looks so good – the way his handsome features look almost tormented with pleasure, the way he’s moving against you, his muscles rippling with each exertion. 

“Look at how gorgeous you are.” He continues, his words choppy from the power of his thrusts. Despite that, his voice is deep and commanding, and he holds your hips, using them as leverage for his thrusts. “So gorgeous when I’m fuckin’ you like ‘dis. So pretty for me, and only for me, huh?”

You’re only able to moan in response as the sensations overwhelm you. He’s hitting all the right spots, taking you in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“Ain’t ‘dat right, cher?” He urges, watching you in the mirror. You nod, breathlessly. He cocks a languid, half-smile; pleased that you’re appreciating yourself, even a little bit. If you saw yourself through his eyes… 

He suddenly leans forward, pressing his toned stomach against your back, and urging himself farther inside of you. His voice, when he speaks, is husky and low, almost a growl. 

“I ain’t sharin’ you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and Remy gonna’ make you remember ‘dat.”.

The way he fucks you then is ruthless, staying true to his previous claim. His hips hammer into yours, cock bullying your cunt with reckless abandon. Your arousal climbs higher, and higher until it reaches a peak; you can’t hold it back any longer Your eyes fly open again, brows pulled together in tortured lust, as the coil snaps and you collapse the front half of your body forward, soaking him and arching your back up until it aches.

Remy’s close behind you, but his stamina is better than yours. Another new experience; men usually come first (too quickly, at that), but not him. He’s got you in ten different positions, three orgasms deep before he paints your insides. 

“Ah, cher… c’mere.”

[rodolfoparras]

Anyways.... Omega soap is a baby trapper. No questions asked. (Wanted to make it poly, but idk how to write multiple people jumping on one dick (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) / I think this all comes across fanon in cod but, Johnny's is a certified baby trapper, even higher than Price.)

Tw: Not beta read, we die like so-🔫 men, a/b/o elements , Baby trapping , Dubious Consent

Johnny is a rambunctious wild spirit for an omega, Free spirited in ways that turns off people, but you, you do atleast that's what he thinks. You've grown distant in a few days, noticeably busying yourself with tasks handed to you by Price and steered away from him at every turn.

He's grown antsy, frantic, pheromones all over the place at the prospect of losing you. He decides to sweeten himself up, acting docile in your presence, purposely spraying enhancing pheromone perfumes to catch even a speck of your attention, acting like a good omega should.

But you don't, not even a single lingering glance and it sends him whining to himself like a kicked dog. Have you grown tired of him? Have you found a sweeter omega? Has his personality rubbed you off some wrong way?

He has grown to share this with the other members of the omega's task force, yapping on from your rather sudden change.

"He's... Probably nearing his rut, you know how alpha's get in a loner phase when it's time" Gaz remarks, returning to his own work, frankly tired of the redundant complaining reaching his ears on each break.

A lightbulb lights up on his head and he's racing to your room, he can practically hear the low mewls and rustling of fabric being dragged on the floor.

He opens it to reveal you all hot and bothered, without a mate in sight and a musk that practically sends him down on all fours.

He cooes at you gently, letting you sniff and pull him down with you, letting you claw his hips as you get a scent of slick starting to gather in his trousers.

It's not long before he's all bare, clawing at the floor, while his poor neglected hole gets eaten and prepped, two fingers slotted in.

Not one word is spared between you, an obvious scowl on your face, but your cock head already pushing his rim. He shouldn't be here, not at your most potent state, not wanting to tie him with a pup or an inconvenient knot.

Meanwhile his mind is scrambled, eyes brimming with tears from relieve from being wanted again, arms clawing and legs trapping you, to lock you at each knot.

He can't possibly relive those hellish weeks of your ignorance. He decides there and then. He has to intertwine you with him.

He comes by your barracks after weeks after your initial rut, a little box, filled with tests all positive pregnancy tests. He wants you, he needs you, and baby would all make that more solidified.

-💫

( Didn't expect people to like omega Price so well,,, I'm so shy )

[Read more]

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words, no warnings --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, and you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting on the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smile was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[cryptid-stimming]

Geno (Mario RPG) Stimboard (with themes of stars, woodworking, and the color blue) for Anon

x x x / x x / x x x

[Image description: a 9 gif stimboard; from left to right.

First line: a gif of a net curtain with silvery stars and moons being drawn across a window, a gif of someone sanding a piece of wood with resin stars inserted into the wood, and a gif of someone stirring small wax melts shaped like stars with a spoon in a bowl.

Second line: a gif of someone using a chisel to cut lines in a carved wooden leaf, a still image of the character Geno from Mario RPG, and a gif of a intricate curly design into wood with a CNC machine.

Third line: a gif of tiny stars made from amber sugar being tipped into a bowl from a small jar, a gif of someone pouring epoxy resin into a carved table (the wooden table is carved to look like a river bank or canyon), and a gif of someone moving their fingers under a net curtain making the silvery tarss on the fabric glint in the light.

End of image description.]

[tubbytarchia]

Hiii!! I just wanted to first say I love your art and you have single handedly given me even more love for the rancher duo! If you could draw an overworked Jim or Tango whatever one fits better with your dynamics and the other trying to help in whatever way they can. No pressure cause to be honest I will be fine with and kind of rancher duo art work <3

Not quite what you asked but close enough...? !! Thank you so much kind anon, I'm so happy you like my ranchers!! (Jimmy is tired and got his sorry self butted. Then immediately goes snooork mimimimi when Tango tries to fix him up)

Not a compilation this time, hope that's fine! I'll probably do more requests individually rather than keep compiling similar ones if I can't do them all in a timely manner!

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

Rory Gilmore and Jess Mariano wearing red in The Bracebridge Dinner (x)

[devilmns]

Indira Varma as THE DUCHESS Doctor Who (2005—) | 14.06 "Rogue" Costume Appreciation requested by anon

[arcanegifs]

Arcane Gif Requests: anon ↳ "You're doing great, Chuck. Here, for your troubles."