#i really missed pen drawing it felt good to do it again

[quinn-pop]

*draws magolor again* *draws magolor again* *draws magalor agai—

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is learning firsthand just how lonely a deployment can be when he's gotten used to talking to you all the time. You are more than happy to record your daily adventures for him, including your steamy ones.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, masturbation, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your original plan to commute to work from your apartment in Mira Mesa went out the window after the box from Bradley arrived. Suddenly his place seemed cozier now that there were tidy rows of envelopes from him covering the table in the living room. You sipped a mug of coffee and looked at all of them, selecting the one that said Open me with your class.

"Whatever you say, Bradley," you murmured with a smile, tucking it into your tote bag for work. You missed your kids almost as much as you missed him, but at least you'd finally get to see them today. You just hoped there was something upbeat in the note, because you were going to have to inform them that he'd be gone until Career Day. Or maybe longer.

Opening the note that was meant for you and your class before digging into all the others just felt right. Really, he was a faithful pen pal to all nineteen of you, even if his current letters were pre-written. As you drove to work, you wondered how long it would take your students to ask about Bradley. Turns out, it didn't take too long at all.

You were standing behind your desk, getting hugs from some of the kids as they got reacquainted with each other and the classroom for the first time in almost two weeks when Jayden asked, "What did you get Lieutenant Bradshaw for Christmas?"

Images of lingerie danced in your head as you cleared your throat. "Stationery," you replied. "So he can write us letters while he's deployed."

"He's deployed?" asked Nia, face lighting up. "With Marty?"

"Can we do another drawing contest with him?" shouted Oliver, already getting colored pencils out of his desk.

"Will you ask if he's allowed to take a video while he's flying this time?" Violet asked calmly.

"Actually," you replied, walking slowly to the front of the room with a single envelope in your hands, "we can't do any of those things. He's not allowed to communicate with anyone who isn't on the aircraft carrier this time around. If he writes to us, he'll have to save the letters until he returns."

Everyone stared blankly at you. 

Jackie raised her hand. When you pointed to her, she said, "But we're not like random people. We're students of aviation. We're his pen pals."

"Yeah!" came a chorus of voices, and you were half tempted to write up a petition to the Navy for all of them to sign.

You had to clap your hands and wait for them to clap in response after they all quieted down again. "I have a note that he wants me to open with you. Should we do that now?"

After literally everyone agreed that was a good idea, you opened it and found a handwritten link to a YouTube video followed by a short note that you read out loud.

"Greetings, Fourth Graders,

By the time you read this, it will be January, and I'll be on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean for a seven week deployment. I'm sure your lovely teacher has explained that sending and receiving letters is sadly not a possibility for me right now. I'm going to need you to keep track of all your questions about aviation until I get back for Career Day next month. I'll bring some of my friends along, and we can answer them for you then. Sound good?

Make sure you listen to your teacher, and I'll see you all in February.

Yours Truly,

Lieutenant Bradshaw"

You looked up from the notecard and added, "He also included a link to a YouTube video. Should we check it out now?"

It was actually amazing how quietly they all sat in anticipation while you set up your projector and typed out the link. When you turned out the lights, you had to grab onto the edge of your desk as Bradley's face and voice filled your classroom, even though he wasn't actually there. The twenty minute video began with him sitting on his living room couch in his worn out jeans and the Top Gun shirt you wore to bed last night, and you realized he must have filmed this on Christmas Eve when you were out with Natasha.

"Hi, everyone," said video Bradley as he waved to his phone camera. "I thought I would try my hand at a little lesson on aviation so your teacher could get a break. Make sure you take notes. There will be a quiz the next time I see you."

All of your students were watching him with rapt attention and pencils poised over their notebooks. Bradley kept them engaged and entertained while you fell even more in love.

-----------------------------

"What the fuck?" Bradley groaned as he sank down into an empty spot on one of the long benches in the mess hall. The spaghetti looked like mush, but his stomach was growling so aggressively, he decided to take a bite anyway. It tasted just as bad as it looked, and he grimaced as he started to shovel it into his mouth anyway.

What he wouldn't give for dinner at Salvatore's. Mouthwatering pasta. Expensive as hell wine. You in a short little dress with his hands all over your thighs. Maybe Bronco parking lot sex.

Instead he got another USS Gerald R. Ford meal which was barely edible, and a view of a very hairy Atlantic Fleet aviator with the call sign Curly. Fantastic. Even the garlic bread was so stale it was hard to chew, but if he didn't eat, he would start losing weight. And if he started losing weight, it would make working out harder, which would suck, because going to the gym was his main source of entertainment.

Other than writing letters he couldn't send.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Curly asked, pointing at the roll Bradley only bit the corner of.

"It's all yours, man," he replied, watching the other aviator pick it up and crunch on it with a smile. 

Bradley picked up his tray with the intention of heading to his bunk to change into gym clothes, but when he got there, he collapsed onto the twin sized bed instead. It was clear that he'd only been brought along for this deployment to fly one very specific mission, because as a whole, the Atlantic Fleet pilots were young and green. But as a result of the current political climate, he had internet access completely taken away from him, and he was stuck here for five more weeks with nothing to keep him sane. He didn't even have Marty this time around. Just the pretty stationery set you gave him and the holiday cards from your students.

So he would do what he always did now. He would write. To all nineteen of you. But mostly to you. He realized, like he always did, that this was probably the most boring shit that anyone would ever read. How many times could you really read about your boyfriend telling you that he loved you and missed you. It wasn't like he was writing elegant poetry here.

Gorgeous, I miss you so much. You'd cry if you saw the spaghetti I had to eat for dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home (besides you) is driving us to Salvatore's, and I won't stop eating until I pass out. The Atlantic Fleet food makes the Pacific Fleet cabbage rolls seem like a delicacy, and the US fucking Navy can quote me on that. 

I love you. I wish you knew I was coming back to you instead of Norfolk. I wish I could ask you to use the credit card in my sock drawer to fully stock the refrigerator before I get home. The only things I want to do for three solid days after I arrive back in San Diego are eat, sleep, and fuck my girlfriend.

Definitely not poetry. "Was my writing this shitty last time around?" he murmured to himself with a laugh. It couldn't have been if you kept responding to him for the duration of that deployment. Just thinking about your letters, both professional and personal, made him ache right now. Your emails and your sassy selfies and the sunset photos were things he didn't even know he had been taking for granted.

One letter from you now would have made everything so much better. With a deep sigh, Bradley changed to head to the gym.

------------------------------

Time passed slowly. Packing up and moving boxes of your things from Mira Mesa to Coronado helped, but you were a little too nervous to unpack too much other than the necessities. You didn't even want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was plan your next visit to the wine bar with Natasha so you felt a little less lonely. 

As you hung the framed blueprint of the Super Hornet Bradley gave you in the living room, you realized he would have to be lonelier than you were. At least you had Jayden's tales of Vanessa the dog to make you laugh during the work day. And you went out to dinner with some of your friends you hadn't seen recently. And you had a never ending text thread with Natasha now. 

There was a pretty good chance Bradley didn't know anyone on this deployment, and you wondered if he was spending a lot of time in the gym. What you wouldn't give for a gym selfie. You collapsed onto the couch and scrolled through the images of your boyfriend that you had saved to your phone.

"God," you moaned. He was so hot. Especially in front of a sunset. Especially with your lipgloss smudged on his cheek. Especially when he was looking at you in his arms instead of at the camera. "Fuck."

When someone knocked on the door, you nearly fell off the couch. Your eyes caught on the envelopes from Bradley that you hadn't yet opened lined up on the coffee table as you walked across the room. The last time you had an unexpected visitor, it was Natasha. The time before that, it was Vanessa. You didn't know who to expect, but you squared your shoulders and pulled the door open with an abundance of attitude only to find a slightly hunched over older woman standing there.

"Oh!" you said, immediately softening your stance. "What can I do for you?"

She looked from you to the Bronco in the driveway and then back again. "Is Bradley home?"

"No, he's not," you told her, unsure about how much information to give. "Is there something you need?"

She eyed you carefully. "Are you his girlfriend? The teacher he fell in love with?" This stranger knew who you were. When you gave her a concerned look and took a step away from her, she said, "I'm Edith. I live next door. Sometimes Bradley helps me with yard work and repairs around my property." She smiled and added, "He only lets me pay him in piano lessons."

"Edith!" You told her your name with a smile. You knew exactly who she was, because the first time Bradley wrote to you about getting piano lessons from his retired neighbor, you fell halfway in love with him on the spot. "Right, of course! Bradley is actually deployed for a few more weeks." She looked immediately dejected, so you asked, "Did you need help with something?"

"I don't want to bother you with it," she said immediately.

"Please," you replied, already reaching for your shoes. "I'm so bored without Bradley around. I would absolutely love a distraction, Edith."

She wrung her hands and then held them up. "Well, I can't change my light bulbs, because my arthritis is bad this time of year when it gets chilly out. And my back patio is so dark at night, I can't see anything."

"Say no more," you told her, joining her on the porch and closing the door behind you.

It only took you a few minutes to change the exterior light bulbs and rearrange her patio furniture. Then you cocked your head to the side and asked, "Is something beeping?"

Edith sighed. "My smoke detector needs new batteries."

"I'm on it."

She led you inside the sliding glass door, into her kitchen where the beeping was annoying enough that you didn't know how this woman could have slept in the house unless her hearing was starting to slip. Edith told you where you could find a step ladder and new batteries, and once you finished that chore, she started digging around in her purse, pulling out five dollars.

"Thank you for your help," she said, trying to hand it to you as you walked past the piano with the step ladder.

"I am absolutely not accepting your money, Edith. This was the most entertaining part of my day. As long as your arthritis allows it, you can pay Bradley in extra piano lessons when he returns." 

The idea of Norfolk suddenly made you feel anxious, but Edith smiled. "Oh, he's an advanced student. He mostly just plays from memory. I only point out when he's flat instead of sharp."

You weren't sure how long it had been since Bradley checked in with her, but as long as he was allowed to come back to San Diego, you'd make sure he did it more often. "I'll send him over as soon as he gets back."

Edith smiled knowingly. "Something tells me he's not going to want to leave your side right when he gets back. But maybe after a day or two, you could send him over?"

"I'll do that," you told her with a chuckle.

After you walked back across the yard and let yourself inside, you kicked off your shoes and decided to treat yourself with one of Bradley's notes. You'd been trying to ration them, but they were all so tempting. The ones you had already opened were stacked up on the kitchen counter where you could easily find them to read them again and again. You took a few seconds to decide which one felt right, and you settled on Open me when you need a laugh.

Inside the envelope, you found no note at all. There was just one photo, and when you pulled it out, you burst into laughter. Natasha was right; twenty-two year old Bradley was endearingly skinny and mustache-less. He still wore that same grin today, but he really grew into his frame. You marveled over how fresh his scars looked in the picture, deciding to hang it up in the bedroom for now. 

And when you woke up on Sunday, the photo was the first thing you saw.

You reached for your phone thinking you could text Bradley before tossing it aside in frustration. You were frustrated in every way. Mentally and emotionally, but also physically. You missed sleeping next to him most nights. You missed his warmth and the way he kissed you. His strong body and attentive hands.

When you tried to burrow down under the covers in just his sweatshirt to go back to sleep, your skin felt like it was charged. Like there was an undercurrent of need that nothing would soothe except for Bradley.

Open me when you're in bed

That's what one of the envelopes said. You bit your lip before burying your face in Bradley's pillow and moaning. The need was still there, more palpable by the second. You had about an hour before Natasha was supposed to pick you up for brunch and the wine bar; it was the perfect time to read that note.

You ran down the hallway to the coffee table, grabbed the envelope, and took it straight back to bed. Your curiosity had been gnawing away at your mind over what could be in the note meant for the quiet solitude of the bedroom, and now was your chance to find out as you slipped back under the covers.

Gorgeous,

You better be in our bed right now. Maybe you just got home from work. Maybe you're still waking up for the day. Maybe you're ready to fall asleep soon, but you just need something to take the edge off. It doesn't matter, as long as you're thinking about me and my hands all over your body. I hope you're ready to read about how I would take care of you right now.... in an abundance of detail.

You moaned as you looked around the room, wide-eyed like someone was going to catch on to what he had written to you. Desire flared inside you as you squeezed your thighs together and took a few deep breaths before continuing to read.

You're beautiful inside and out. It's no surprise that you really get me going. One thought about the soft swell of your ass or the way you taste when you cum is enough to get me seriously hard. Jerking off while thinking about you is fantastic, but nothing compares to the real thing. Next time I see you, we're taking our time to get reacquainted, but right now, if I could have you, it would be fast and dirty.

"Oh god," you groaned, closing your eyes as you pushed his sweatshirt up, letting cool air meet your warm skin. Then your hand slid down to the apex of your thighs, and you weren't at all surprised to find you were wet.

You look sinful in that bed. I just know it. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. My lips would find your breasts before sampling my way down your belly to that soaking wet pussy. When I say every inch of your body is Gorgeous, I mean it. You've got such a tight, pretty little pussy, and I would love to tease you until you're so worked up, you're practically crying. Just my mouth and fingers until you're begging for my cock, Gorgeous. Go ahead. Beg for it.

"Bradley," you moaned softly, a complete mess for your boyfriend even when he wasn't with you.

Good girl. Now touch yourself just how I'd touch you. Rub yourself just right. Use two of those fingers to warm yourself up and then dip them down inside that perfect pussy. So fucking tight, you drive me insane when I can't be with you. I'd be right above you, singing your praises, telling you how much I love you, and pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy while you whine and beg.

This note was absolutely lethal. You were already close. Sweat beaded on your brow as you stroked your fingers along your clit before pumping them inside you. His name was never far from your lips as you kept reading.

You taste so fucking sweet. I'd run my tongue everywhere until you couldn't stand it. I would eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth. I'd keep going until I couldn't handle how badly I needed you. Then I'd fuck you so hard and fast, you'd have tears in your eyes, voice ragged as my body slapped against yours. Tits bouncing as I bottomed out, holding you in place as I came inside you. And then I would let you know that I'm yours.

I'm all yours, Gorgeous. You absolutely own me.

You were panting, grinding the heel of your hand against your clit as you came. Bradley's note fell from your fingers as your back arched off the bed, and you grabbed the sheet as you cried out. You could hear something familiar mingling with your own voice, but it took you a second to realize your phone was ringing as you writhed around in bed, heart pounding fast from your orgasm. You rolled onto your belly and grabbed your phone as you sucked air into your lungs.

Natasha Trace

Shit. Shit. You tried to get your breathing under control as you answered her call, but you even sounded strange to your own ears as you said, "Hello?"

There was a pause before Natasha asked, "I'm leaving now, and I might stop for a fancy coffee on my way to get you. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" you replied, trying your best to sound casual, but pretty sure you were failing.

"I'll be there soon."

You dropped your phone and reached for the journal instead to let Bradley know just how hard you came for him before you got dressed for the day. 

-----------------------------

"Bradshaw!"

It felt like an almost foreign concept for Bradley to hear his name now. Essentially nobody spoke to him outside of his mandatory meetings, and he'd spent so little time in a cockpit over the last few weeks, he spun around in surprise when someone called him.

Of course it was Admiral Walker. Bradley wasn't sure if he was being punished for what Cyclone had done, but he was hardly given any flight tasks to work on. But now that his deployment was starting to wind down, he realized the danger he was going to be flying into for his mission was much more than he originally anticipated.

"Admiral Walker, Sir?" he replied, saluting his superior officer. He wasn't looking to ruffle any more feathers here as long as it meant he'd be going home to you before too long. He felt sick with longing, missing you so much, especially at night, that he hurt until he was finally able to fall asleep. And then he'd wake up to the same choking feeling all over again the following day.

The older man examined him closely for a few beats before saying, "The weather looks ideal for tomorrow. You're team leader. Be ready to go at first light."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, because there was really nothing else to say. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return home to his house in Coronado where you lived now. Where you were waiting for him. He just needed to get through this safely.

--------------------------------

I hate how isolated he feels. He's not thriving. He's not even eating well. He needs a hug. Gorgeous is enjoying the box of letters even is she is missing him terribly. I think I'll send him home soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

[yan-randomfandom]

P!Yandere!Pines Family x GN!Teenager!Reader

[PLATONIC] a continuation to this! decided to just make them all yanderes cuz y not lol errmm just subtle ykwim... i'm not proofreading all this so just have my draft

warnings: staring, violence, alcoholics, abuse, blood, implied murder. woah intense

❤️‍🔥

"Then I saved Ford by slicing its eye! You should have seen it!"

You laughed, settling down from your dramatic gestures that you've been making throughout the entire dinner. The entire Pines family watched you in awe, especially Dipper and Mabel, easily captivated by your personality and story.

"Yes, well, they certainly saved my life," Ford chuckled as he fed himself a spoonful of food.

"You have to stop lettin' kids save your life so much," Stan scoffed.

Dipper grabbed a book out of nowhere, clicking his pen in preparation—

"No writing at the dinner table! We talked about this!" Stan called out, earning a sheepish smile from Dipper who immediately drops the book on the ground.

"But what did the monster look like?" Dipper stammered, eventually turning to you with a curious look on his face. He looked eager to learn more. That's what you can tell anyway, if you remove his reddened face, which is most likely from embarrassment.

Mabel, who sat across from you, leaned towards you with the biggest smile on her lips. You grinned back to return her energy. "Bet it was super gross! Was there a lot of blood?! Blaarrrgghhh!!!"

"No gross sounds at the table, pumpkin!" Even Stanley felt like he's tired of his own voice. This is him trying his best to not let you be uncomfortable. Well, he supposed you and his brother brought up the story in the first place.

Speaking of, why were you even here? Ford came back in the mystery shack after missing for a day, only to bring a random teen with him. It's a good thing he cooked extra since he thought Soos was coming over.

But he needed answers fast.

"Ford," Stan whispered firmly, catching his brother's attention. Tilting his head, he tried to signal him to move out, but someone interrupted them before they could do anything.

"Hey! No sneaking out the dinner table!" Mabel exclaimed, pointing a fork at her grunkles.

Stanley stood up and Ford followed his actions. They were already heading out the door with Stan holding his twin's wrist. "Well, sweetheart, VERY REASONABLE EXCUSE!"

As soon as they were out of sight, you and the other kids exchanged looks.

"He did say it's reasonable."

"Yeah, I can live with that."

... You snorted. "You guys are a funny bunch. He literally said the excuse, and you let him go just like that? You must trust each other a lot."

"You have no idea, stranger, you have no idea," Mabel laughed. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

💥

Meanwhile, deep inside the mystery shack, where they were sure there'd be no eavesdropping happening...

"You let the kid stay here without telling their parents?!"

Stanley was freaking out. Yet, he really shouldn't be surprised Ford would do this. Ironically, poindexter would even criticize his behavior, his grunkle methods! How ridiculous is this whole thing, huh?!

"It's more complicated than that! Look, I know this sounds bad—"

"It does!" Stan yelped, his hands clenching. "Their parents must be so worried! And we can't just let them—"

"No, no, Stanley, walk with me here," Ford said, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders. "It's their parents that are the problem."

A few deep breaths from Stan. Alright, okay. This is making more sense now.

"We'll take them to their house first thing in the morning," Ford explained. "Let's see what we'll do from there."

🔥

"I hope my drawing isn't too bad," you chuckled, giving the journal back to Dipper. His eyes skimmed over your illustration of the monster you killed. "It doesn't match yours and Mabel, but..."

"Are you kidding?! It's perfect! Thank you!" Dipper beamed, writing more notes down the rest of the page.

From above, Mabel had her legs folded over the ceiling wood of the house. You looked up and made eye contact, as much as you can anyway. She's upside down.

"Hi! How old are you again?"

How did she even get up there, you wonder. You glanced around, smiling when you realized, and worked your way up.

They stared at you in awe when you climbed right next to Mabel's side. Now you're hanging upside down too. "Cool tricks, Mabel. Hope you don't mind me copying you?"

She doesn't respond, starstrucked. Glancing at Dipper, his jaw was also on the floor.

"Uhhh," you awkwardly smiled, "But I just turned sixteen! You guys are turning thirteen, right?"

"You're the coolest," Mabel whispered, dragging a hand across your face. Okay. That's a bit weird, but it's welcome.

"Thanks," you grinned, manually removing her hand from your face. You looked down at Dipper again. "Hey, Dipper, what time is it?"

He scrambled around and grabbed a watch from somewhere. "Uh, nine o' clock."

"Nine?!" your sudden outburst caused you to fall to the carpet, a pained groan leaving your lips. At least you managed to drop skillfully. "Oh, that hurt."

"Are you okay?!" Dipper rushed to your side, offering a comforting hand on your back.

"Yeah, I just," you paused. "It's nine already? My parents are gonna kill me, man. I gotta go home."

"What!!"

Mabel also dropped down from her outburst, but her landing isn't painful as yours, because you caught her in time. She gazed at you from your arms, stars forming in her eyes.

"Woah. You have fast reflexes!" she squealed as you gently put her down.

Dipper shook his head. "But you can't go home this late at night. Didn't you say you're from outside of Gravity Falls?"

You crossed your arms, pondering. "Yeah, but... Okay, wait, where's Ford?"

Footsteps followed your words. All of you turned to the doorway, seeing the older set of Pines twins. It's kind of amazing, really, you rarely saw twins and this family has two pairs.

"Oh, there you are!" you grinned, walking over to him. Ford blinked at you. "I'm sorry, dude, but I think I overstayed my welcome. I'll go ahead and—"

"Eh, nah," Stanley chimed in, earning your attention, "It's too dark for ya to go out. Let's take you home tomorrow, yeah?"

"But-"

"No butts, they're for sitting," he continued, gently pushing you down on his recliner. You sat down, albeit confused. "Think of it as a sleepover. That's fun, right kids?"

Mabel skipped to your view, an eager grin on her face. "Yeah! We can paint your nails and everything!"

"While I'll show you more of the journals," Dipper beamed, showing one of them to you.

Their ideas were nice, it truly was, but the circumstances are concerning. You couldn't help the frown forming on your lips. They all noticed.

Ford stepped in between them, kneeling and offering you a smile. "Don't worry, kiddo. We'll take good care of you 'til morning. I'm sure your parents will understand."

"I guess I can't really do anything about it," you muttered, eventually accepting the situation. You stood up with a grin. "Okay! Who wants to be unaware of me stealing cool stuff here?!"

"I do!" Mabel screamed, only to pause. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Stan squinted, "What?"

You hummed, suddenly behind him, and stared at Stanley's wallet. Ford shook his head at you. "You have a very alarming number of IDs. Is this normal? Then again, you're old."

A laugh left Stan as he took back his wallet from you. "Oh, you got some gift, kid. Didn't even hear or feel you take it!"

"I can teach you," you smiled.

"Please don't," Dipper groaned.

"No need," Stan snorted. "We can pickpocket the whole world together!'

🌬️

"This journal is amazing! And Ford wrote this? Seriously, no wonder why he was so smart!"

You flipped the book page by page, your jaw dropped the whole time. Sure, a while ago, you saw one page, but only because Dipper told you to draw on it. You didn't expect a whole research surrounding Gravity Falls!

"Interesting enough for you to visit Gravity Falls more often?" Dipper chuckled as he watched you.

"Woah," you smiled, "You like my company that much, Dipper? Don't you have any friends here— oh shoot, wait, I didn't mean—"

A ghost of a frown spread through his face. Why did you have to ask that?! You were just projecting if you had to be honest, but still!!!

"Sorry, that was insensitive," you blurted, closing the book and focusing all your attention on him. "I only said that because I feel that way. I know, that's pretty lame."

He looked surprised. "Really? But you're so cool?"

"Some people think I'm weird is all. But thanks for finding me cool, Dip," you laughed, glancing at Mabel who was snoring. "I find you and your sister cool too. A lot, actually. So it's nice to know you both like me."

Dipper sniffed. "Man. Ditto."

You grabbed a blanket and placed it over Mabel's body, making sure she's covered head to toe. She snuggled up to it unconsciously.

"Welp, bed time," you murmured, reaching for another one. You stretched the blanket, letting Dipper be able to invite himself in. "Come on."

He happily accepted, nestling his head next to your shoulder. Mabel followed him, her head tilting to your chest.

You slept, content.

🌪️

You woke up, disturbed.

The first thing you saw after sleeping is Dipper and Mabel staring at you in silence. As soon as you noticed them, they scrambled away from you and tried to act natural.

Yet, you couldn't forget the small glimpse of their faces. Wide-eyed, a bit of judgment, but most of all, solemn.

Before you could question them, Dipper yelled, "Grunkles! They're awake!"

You winced from the volume of his voice, having just woken up. He immediately apologized to you, but it's all good.

"Visit us again soon! Byeee!"

The next thing you know, you're in the backseat of a car with Stanley next to you. He was pouting, arms crossed.

"This is literally my car. I can't believe it! You won't even let me drive my own car?" he sneered at Ford who sat on the driver's seat.

Ford rolled his eyes. "I can't have you get in trouble by driving again. Think of the kid."

While driving to your address is certainly much faster than walking, it still took a while. You managed to fall asleep, tilting your head on Stan's shoulder. It seemed that you're not alone in being unconscious, because he snored loudly.

Glancing at the mirror, Ford simply exhaled.

You're here.

He parked in front of your house.

Ford nudged Stan awake, who poked you awake next.

You stood up drowsily, holding Stan's hand while walking up to your house. Ford took the lead and knocked on your front door.

To both grunkles' disappointment, things get messy.

Both your parents, drunk, loudly told them off and took you away roughly from Stan. Tears leaked out of your eyes, saying countless apologies to the Pines twins and your parents.

Without much of a fight, Ford forcibly grabbed you back, carrying your body with one arm. He looked at Stan who placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Psst, I'll handle this," Stanley murmured in the midst of your father yapping nonsense. Maybe the professional con-man can knock some sense into your deadbeat parents.

Ford took you back to the car. You sobbed relentlessly, whispering the most saddening things he wished to unhear. He hugged you tightly, muttering sweet nothings until you fell asleep.

After a long while, Stan finally came back.

His eyes were wide. He was shaking.

"I didn't mean to. They started it—I had no choice!"

Gazing down, Ford realized Stan's hands were covered in blood. He swallowed the thickness in his throat.

"...I'll help you clean it up."

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Request: some jealous Rebecca Welton x oblivious reader where reader just cannot tell when someone is flirting with her one of the many reasons also why it took so long for Rebecca and reader to officially start dating

Jealousy

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: some swearing

Rebecca’s fingers tightened around the pen in her hand, the plastic groaning from the pressure. She ignored it, eyes trained on your figure. Your laugh made her heart thump hard behind her rib cage, the bruise left in its wake due to not being the one to coax that laugh from you. You flipped your hair over your shoulder, listening to Isaac as you lent closer.

His arm slid over your shoulders, leading you further down the hallway. Something ugly gnawed at Rebecca’s stomach. She had to turn away or risk hurting someone. Taking some deep breaths, she peeked over her shoulder. You were looking back at her, not realising the way Isaac’s eyes were sweeping down your body.

The smile you gave her was brighter than any you’d given Isaac. Her own lips curled up, an unconscious response, never able to not give in to the impulse when it came to you.

Extracting yourself from Isaac, you said something quietly before making your way to Rebecca’s side. Isaac’s eyes lingered on your retreating back, dipping down to follow the sway of your hips. She bit back her growl, that ugly feeling sink its teeth into her stomach again.

“Hi,” you said, looking up into her face, your smile broad.

“What did Isaac want?” she asked, knowing her voice was harsher than she intended.

“Oh, he was inviting me to the party tonight. Why didn’t you tell me about it? Apparently all of the guys want me there,” you said, “you’re going right?”

“Of course I am,” she replied, despite having previously declined an invitation. A groups of sweaty football players in a darkened room with loud music was hardly her idea of an enjoyable evening. You in a darkened room, however, was a different matter altogether. Especially if that room was full of sweaty football players with testicles bigger than the size of their brains.

Your smile widened and your eyes sparkled. You reached out, hand landing against her forearm, burning through the silk of her blouse. You bounced onto your toes, face drawing just a bit closer to hers.

“You’ll really come?” you asked.

“For you, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, just waiting for the words to hit your brain. She could see the moment it did. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you tried to contain your grin and you were looking at her like she hung the moon.

“Tonight is going to be ace,” you said, letting her arm go, “I’m going to go buy something to wear. I’ll see you later tonight.”

She felt bereft as you stepped back, taking one then another away from her. You waved to the guys before pushing out of the door into the sunlight that swallowed you up. You glanced back, just long enough to meet her eye, flashing her another one of your bright smiles. The way it warmed her, you could have been the sun that flooded into her club.

She was distracted the rest of the day, the image of the boys flirting with you distracting her from her work. Who could focus on contracts when those very men were trying to steal you from her? Your bright smile was meant to be turned in her direction, not laughing at one of the boys dirty jokes.

“Hey good looking,” Keeley said, strutting into the room, “why are you wearing ‘someone’s going to die but I’ll look fit while doing it’ face?”

“I’ll give you three guesses,” she said.

“The boys invited her to the party?” she asked.

“Yes, and now I have to go or wonder which of them are putting their dirty mitts on her,” she replied, lips pursing.

“You know she’s crazy about you. You don’t have to worry,” Keeley said, nudging her.

“I’m not worried about her. It’s them I’m not happy with. I don’t like them… thinking they have a shot with her,” she said, hands flapping as she tried to put into words her anger.

“So you need to look hot tonight. Show them there’s no competition. A bunch of sweaty hairy guys? They’ve got nothing on you,” she said, “you’re well fit.”

“Thanks,” she said, a small chuckle on her lips, “you really think I have nothing to worry about?”

“Come on, Rebecca. She looks at you like you’re the greatest thing she’s ever seen. There’s literally not even a competition going on,” Keeley replied.

“You’re right. Of course your right,” she said, “I should wear the red dress, shouldn’t I?”

“Fuck yes!”

Rebecca laughed, head tipping back, the vestiges of her jealousy seeping away. Of course she had nothing to worry about. It’s not as if you were going to the party with Isaac. You’d asked her if she was going. It mattered to you.

So why, when she arrived, did Isaac have his stupid hairy arm around your shoulder, passing you a drink while you smiled up at him?

She did her best to ignore it, striding past to find her own drink, missing the way your eyes lingered on her. Something not in a plastic cup if she could avoid it. She hadn’t done that since her university days. She wasn’t about to start doing that again, just to be like the boys.

She rifled through the cupboards to find a glass to pour some of the cheap wine into. With a sigh, she took a long drink from it, just able to see you through the door. The moment your gaze landed on her it was like electricity struck. Your eyes lit up and you ducked out from under Isaac’s arm, practically tripping over yourself to reach her side.

“You came,” you said, beaming up at her.

“Of course. I told you I would,” she said.

“Yeah, but I mean this isn’t really your scene,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at the dim living room. You snorted when you saw the boys.

“Anywhere you are is my scene,” she said.

Your smile brightened, “aw, that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

You hauled yourself up onto the counter, legs swinging, heels kicking against the wooden doors. The skirt of your dress lifted, skin on display making her feel crazy. She longed to touch it, to feel your skin against her fingertips as she dragged them upwards until you moaned her name.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” you said, “it’s nice not being the only girl. Keeley said she was coming later but when she does Jamie is going to up the idiocy and then Roy will growl and Keeley will be distracted. It’s nice to have someone bring a bit of class to this thing. Plus, you’re like my favourite person so know I won’t have to leave early to see you.”

“You don’t want all those boys to yourself?” she asked, sidling up to you, arm brushing your leg.

“Them?” you scoffed, “you’re clearly the best one here.”

“Well, after you,” she said.

Your smile was so pretty when you looked at her. Sitting on the counter, your were face to face with her, something she didn’t often get to enjoy. You shifted closer, leaning into her. She did her best not feel flustered at the feeling of your arm pressing against hers. Even after all this time, she still felt like a girl in the grips of her first crush.

“You know, if you wanted to, we could-“

“There you are,” Sam interrupted, walking into the kitchen, “I was hoping to see you here.”

“Sam,” you said, turning that smile on the young football player.

You reached over, pulling him into a hug. She didn’t want to focus on how easy it was for you, doling out your affection.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, drawing back as his eyes slid over your body.

“Oh this old thing,” you giggled.

“You really do. You’re lighting up the room,” he said.

“Thanks Sam,” you said, teeth sinking down into your lower lip.

“Come, there is dancing. Someone as beautiful as you should be shown off.” He held out his hand to you.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, “I might just stay here and talk to Rebecca.”

“We need your radiance to remind us to be civilised. A pretty girl like you should be dancing,” he said.

“Really. I’m okay,” you said, “but you go have fun for me.”

“I must insist. You dance with an elegance the rest of us can only dream of,” he said.

“Well, if you’re insisting.”

You took his hand, letting him help you down from the counter. Rebecca opened her mouth to say something then snapped it shut, not wanting to ruin your fun. She lingered in the doorway, watching as Sam’s hands landed on your hips and your head tipped back as you laughed. Her fingers continued to tighten on the glass in her hand. She downed the wine in one swig.

You spun from Sam’s arms, straight into Dani’s. You were laughing and he was holding you closer and Montclaur was eyeing you up. She turned, leaving you be, needing another drink. Scooping up the bottle of wine she’d poured from earlier, she left her glass in the sink and slipped out the back door.

The garden was small, just a bit of grass and a few chairs. She sunk into one, not bothering to think about the dirt she’d be getting on her dress by sitting. Bringing the bottle to her lips, she let herself have a moment to wallow. She wanted that attention on her, to be in your atmosphere.

She tipped her head back, looking up at the night sky. A few stars winked down at her, just seen through a small gap in the clouds. Sighing, she took another drink. She knew it wasn’t the same as with Rupert, that you weren’t the one going around hitting on anything that moved. But the old insecurities were rising again.

She knew all the reasons you shouldn’t be with her. She’d been on cloud nine since the first time you’d kissed her but even then she’d known that she didn’t deserve you. She was no better than Rupert, going after a younger woman. A young woman who shone so brightly of course everyone else was drawn to you. She took another long drink.

“There you are.”

You were standing just outside the door, your arms curled around your body. Given your dress was skin tight, she could see the way you were shivering. You walked towards her, your smile bright despite how cold you looked.

“Why are you out here?” you asked.

She held out a hand to you, drawing you closer. You didn’t hesitate to settle yourself on her lap, curling an arm around her neck. Her own hand rested on your hip, the other gentle as it rested on your thigh. Skin on bare skin was enough to make her crave you with every fibre of her being.

“Baby?” you asked.

“You seemed busy so I decided to get some air,” she replied, not wanting to admit just how much she couldn’t bare to watch you dance with those men.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked, snuggling closer to her.

“Not with you here,” she replied, “you’re warming me up.”

Your lips pressed to her cheek, soft and chaste. Her fingers tightened on your thigh, a reflex to the feeling. You hummed, your lips ghosting over her skin, pressing to spot under her jaw that you knew drove her wild. Her sharp inhalation of breath was a surprise to her and yet she was melting under your touch.

“I love this dress on you,” you murmured into her skin, “you look so hot.”

She flushed from the compliment.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re really out here?” you asked, “did the boys make you feel unwelcome since you’re the boss?”

“No,” she sighed, tipping her head back, giving you better access.

“Please, Rebecca,” you pleaded, drawing back, looking at her with those big eyes, swimming with concern. She cursed under her breath, knowing she couldn’t say no to you, not when you were looking at her like that.

“I don’t like the way the boys flirt with you,” she admitted.

“They boys? They’re not flirting,” you said, shaking your head.

“Of course they are. Isaac can’t keep his hands off you. Sam was drooling over you in the kitchen. Montclaur was leering at you. I heard Dani asking you on a date. They’re not even hiding it from me, the fuckers,” she said, looking back up at the night sky.

“They’re just being nice,” you brushed off.

“They’re fucking not,” she snapped.

You drew away from her and guilt curdled in her stomach. There was no point getting angry at you. It wasn’t your fault. You were so gorgeous it was no wonder everyone you met wanted you. She had. It would be hypocritical to not understand why other people would want you.

“Baby, are you jealous?” you asked.

“No,” slipped from her too fast to convince anyone, “yes. It’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important,” you said, “I don’t want you feeling like this over nothing. You know I have no interest in any of those boys, right? They’re all hairy and sweaty and gross.”

“Really?” she asked, hating that she needed the reassurance.

“No one even comes close to comparing with you. You’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. And the most beautiful. Like, if I could I’d be with you all the time. I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” You gently cupped her cheek in your warm palm, “I love you, Rebecca. No one is going to change that.”

“You love me?” Those words were branded into her brain, none of the rest of it penetrating after that.

“I was planning on telling you at a nicer place than this but yeah. I love you. I thought you might have figured it out already. I don’t think I’m very good at hiding it.” You gave a little self conscious chuckle, “but I love you so much and so I don’t want you to worry that one of those boys could ever steal me away. You’re the only one for me.”

She stared down at you, not able to comprehend that you loved her. That you were choosing her. That you wanted her. You were smiling, so close to her, looking so beautiful, loving her. Your smile dimmed a little and she realised she hadn’t said anything for too long.

“I love you too,” she breathed.

Your grin returned as you lent forward. Your lips brushed hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from pulling you in further, her tongue running along your bottom lip. You moaned into her mouth and she knew she could spend the rest of her life listening to that noise.

Someone wolf-whistled and you drew away, ignoring the way she tried to pull you closer again. Looking over your shoulder, she was ready to tell off whichever of the boys was interrupting her time with you. Keeley was grinning at the two of you, sparkling like the amazing woman she was, leaning in the doorway.

“Keep it in your pants, Welton,” she called, making her way towards the two of you, “leave some for the rest of us.”

“Very funny,” she called back.

You giggled, pressing your face into her shoulder, doing your best to stifle them. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head. She wasn’t ever going to get tired of this.

“Looks like you two are having fun,” she said, perching on one of the other chairs.

“We are,” you said, emerging from your hidden spot. She tightened her arm around your waist, making you press closer.

“We could get out of here, if you want to,” she murmured into your ear.

“Okay,” you said, “but can we get some ice cream on the way back to your place?”

“Of course.”

You climbed off her lap, holding out a hand for her. You tangled your fingers together, tugging her away from the chairs. Rebecca passed the wine bottle over to Keeley, leading you towards the gate to let you out of the backyard.

“Have fun you two,” Keeley said, giving a salacious wink as she passed you to re-eneter the house.

Having you leave with her, sliding into her car, smiling at her like she was the greatest thing you’d ever seen, it was enough to make her not even able to remember why she’d been so jealous earlier. Of course you’d choose her. You loved her.

There was absolutely no one to be jealous of.

[monkiesimp]

Sun Wukong, Macace and MK realizing that they are in love with READER?

Uhhhh am I even doing this right? I'm beginning to doubt my skills.

Wukong:

- Honestly? He falls in love with you nearly as soon as he meets you

- He didn't realize it at first though, but it doesn't take him a long time to realize he loves you

- Since you can't really come to the Flower Fruit Mountain all by yourself cause, y'know, it's a ocean away, he comes to visit you in your home instead.

- Or you sometimes come to his temple but very rarely since most of the time he spends is at the Flower Fruit Mountain.

- You two would just hang out at your house and draw together, surprisingly Wukong does love to draw and he's quite good at it

- During one night, you were drawing while Wukong was hugging you and just relaxing while watching your pen move on the paper, since you two weren't able to hang out much you suggested he stays overnight with you. He agreed of course.

- It was all nice and peaceful as you two talked, but when he asked you a question you didn't respond.

- Then, he heard you snore and realized you fell asleep.

- He just pushed you towards him so you could rest against him, he didn't want you leaning to a wrong direction and hitting your head on something by accident.

- And when your head was on his chest and you tilted your head to the point he could see your face more clearly, his heart nearly melted at the sight in front of him. The warm smile you had on your face while you slept made him feel so much happiness and love towards you.

- Wait.

- Love?....

- Oh. That's when he actually realized he loved you and come to think of it, he does think about you often when you're away.

- When he realized that, he was kinda... Shocked. And unsure what to do.

- He never predicted he'd ever find someone to love ever again in the near future (or ever), yet, there he was. With you in his arms, and the warm feelings you gave him without even realizing.

- He wasn't really happy when he learned he was in love with you. I mean, he was, but he was mostly worried.

- He's immortal, once you die, how will he live on? It's just the same like with his old companions who he missed dearly, but he felt like it would be much much worse if he lost *you*, since he LOVED you.

- Plus if he grew too attached, some demons could use you as a hostage to get to him.

- Wukong had to distance himself from you and forget about you, and that's exactly what he did. When you woke up, you were all alone with no sign of the Monkey King.

- It took him his all not to visit you again after days and days passed, he missed your touch, your voice, he missed everything about you. But he chose not to, it was better for the both of you.

- You on the other hand were completely confused and heartbroken, you asked Mk if he's still seeing Wukong and when he said he was, you thought you did something wrong and ruined your friendship with him, that it was all your fault.

- You two wouldn't see each other for about a month, until Mk invited everyone to meet up for Christmas.

- Then, then you'd see him.

- Both of you kinda avoided each other, but you took the courage to talk to him.

- After two hours, once you saw him alone you took the opportunity and went up to him, adkinht why he avoided you for days.

- He lied and you could see right through it.

- So you two would kinda end up arguing, you telling him to spit it out and a bit irritated he was avoiding the topic while Wukong still refused to confess anything.

- It wasn't until you heard a sob from him that all your frustration suddenly died out.

- He had his back to you while hugging himself, but you could clearly see by his shaking shoulders and his sniffles... He was crying.

- You ended up hugging him which caused him to stop holding his tears back and let it out, he missed your hugs so much :(

- He ended up telling you everything, why he avoided you and why he was so afraid

- You listened to his every words and held his face in your hands, wiping away his tears as he talked.

- Well, you two do end up coming with a solution, and that's for you to become immortal if you want, Wukong will find something to make you immortal

- On the other hand, if you need time to think, he will give you time.

- And if you don't want to be immortal then uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

- No bitches.

Macaque:

- At first he didn't care about you, you were in Mk's crew and he knew you as much as he knew Tang tbh.

- Yeah, you two weren't really friends, you knew each other's names but nothing more than that.

- That is, until you were at a party (yeah, again, Mk invited everyone) and you got overwhelmed by the crowds and music, that was when you saw Macaque again.

- He just saw you with Mk and Mei while Wukong was yelling at him before the King stormed off while he was zoning out.

- Then he tried looking for Wukong to annoy him again but accidentally saw you at the exact same spot he saw you last, except that now Mk and Mei were nowhere in sight and you were alone and looked somewhat... Scared? He wasn't sure why.

- He was hesitating between annoying Wukong or coming to ask you why you're so glum, in the end he picked you.

- You were a bit stunned when he sat down in the chair beside you.

- He didn't ask much questions, just made some comments. Then he offered you to dance with him.

- You didn't know how to dance but agreed anyway, and honestly he was good at dancing, also good at showing you what to do and how to move.

- That was the night you two became friends :D

- After that night he'd visit you A LOT, it's like this guy has nothing else to do in this world of how many hours he could spend with you.

- He would flirt with you and tease you very often, honestly he didn't realize, but he caught feelings for you since that dance.

- It took him a month til he realized he loved you.

- And when he did he honestly didn't care much but he'd be extra flirty and teasing.

- He'd often push your buttons and test the waters to see how far he could go.

- He could go pretty far XD you were extremely flustered whenever he'd flirt with you.

- But yeah, you two didn't really hug each other or show any affection (Macaque kinda would only do small gestures when teasing you, such as being close to your face or wrapping his tail around you, besides that nothing much during that time. But it did quickly develop to the point you'd cuddle every night.)

- Overall, he wouldn't really have much of a reaction. He'd just accept that fact immediately and his next plan? Try his best to make you fall in love with him too.

Mk:

- AAAAA YOU TWO

- You two are BEST BUDDIES!!!!

- Along with Mei too, you three are the best duo.

- You go out every one or two weeks to hang out when you're not busy and it's mostly playing video games.

- It would be you who's in love with Mk first, and each time you flirt with him he just blushes but doesn't seem to take the hint you like him.

- He's just so... Oblivious to your flirting. He probably doesn't even realize you're flirting with him.

- He loves you by now but he just can't take a hint and it's 😭

- He would always gift you something on every event, valentine's day, Halloween, ECT, and you'd always thank him by kissing his cheek and gifting him something too.

- It makes him REALLY overjoyed when you kiss his cheek and he's happy for the rest of the day.

- Would be a slightly bit concerned over you, not that there's anything wrong but he wants to make sure you're okay and that you're not sad or anything.

- If you are, he wants to be there for you. He's a goodie boy.

- After like two years of knowing him, you start being a bit more flirtatious so he can take a hint.

- No matter how hard you try each and every time you two hang out to tease and flirt with him, he never, not even ONCE realizes anything.

- Honestly you begin flirting too much at the point of everyone around noticing.

- And Mk STILL remains clueless.

- Then he begins to get confused by you and why you always try to make him embarrassed, he rants to his problems about you with Monkey King.

- "I JUST DON'T GET IT! Why are they acting so weird?" ... "I mean it's not that I don't like it but they're more focused on making me flustered than hanging out with me."

*Monkey King shuffled through his stuff, trying to find something.*

- "Bud, they like you. They're flirting with you."

- "WHAT?"

- He doesn't believe it at first and Wukong has to sit him down to prove it to him by explaining what your words meant and your actions.

- He doesn't even get through half of it (thankfully) until Mk realizes you really do love him.

- He's in complete shock for a good few seconds but then he explodes in happiness, he's overjoyed.

- He kinda feels stupid he didn't see that in the first place... But at least he figured it out in the end!

- Honestly, he will just be a innocent boy. He would never take any action towards you if he loves you, he's innocent and nice.

- And he's a bit shy to take the first move, kinda has self esteem issues so that's why he didn't believe when Monkey King told him you liked him at first.

[seaweed-water]

wip wednesday

i was tagged by the lovely @dear-massacre and her amazing wip, and i'm sharing possibly my favorite scene so far!!! i think it shows the dynamics of their relationship really well. and it's kinda hot without being a sexy scene lol

“Tell me your tragic backstory,” Derek says, flipping through a thick encyclopedia similar to the ones they used to have in the Hale library.

“I told you, my mother died when I was two, my father was an alcoholic,” Stiles murmurs as he writes in his legal pad, distracted as Derek shuffles about the doctor’s office. Official sessions are over now that they spend their nights together, but Stiles hasn’t cancelled their appointments, and Derek isn’t going to miss another, ever.

“So you’re traumatized from losing a parent at a young age, and your father neglected and or abused you in his grief,” Derek states bluntly.

“That about sums it up, yes. He was a piece of shit. Not even worth eating,” Stiles mutters, scratching out the rest of a sentence before peeking up from under his glasses. “Are you psychoanalyzing me?”

Derek slips the encyclopedia back in its slot before making his way to Stiles’ desk, dropping into the chair in front of it. “How am I doing so far?”

Stiles smirks and pushes up his glasses, Derek’s eyes following his fingers as he says, “I’m cured, doctor.”

“That’ll be three hundred dollars.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, his head shaking fondly as he meets Derek’s gaze before returning to his work, his smile lingering. Derek grins in return, leaning back in his chair with his legs spread as his fingers lace over his abdomen.

“So, which was it?”

“Which was what, baby?”

Derek’s lips twitch. He loves how easy that word falls from Stiles’ lips.

“Neglect or abuse?”

Stiles purses his lips, dropping his pen before leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. “Both.”

Derek frowns. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

“He was the town Sheriff, and his kid already had a history of killing the stray cats. It wouldn’t have worked in my favor.”

Derek regards him, the clock ticking as Stiles watches him right back. He is the only person Derek has ever felt comfortable enough to look in the eye, and he is a psychopath. And Derek is pretty sure he is in love with him, the all-consuming feeling new and unknown.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to kill him,” Derek says.

“Me, too.”

Stiles offers him a quick smile before he picks up his pen again, returning to his scribbling.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Derek asks, peeking up to glance at the doctor’s notes.

“Never, baby,” Stiles mumbles out, the corners of his lips curling as he glances up. “Come here.”

Derek’s brows furrow, watching as Stiles shifts his chair to make room for him. Derek rises, hesitating as he rounds the large desk and stands beside Stiles, his eyebrows raised, shoulders rounded in uncertainty.

“Kneel for me,” Stiles tells him, his tone low as he grabs the throw pillow from behind him, dropping it on the floor under his desk. Derek swallows, a limbic urge taking hold as his knees buckle and obey, his breath nearly stolen as he carefully draws his gaze up Stiles’ seated figure, waiting for approval.

“Good boy.” Stiles brushes his fingers through Derek’s hair, his gaze so soft and proud it makes Derek’s eyes heavy, breath shallow as a warmth spreads out from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers. Derek waits, eager for the next command, eager to please him and hear those words again, and Stiles’ lips slant in a gratified smile. “Just lay here for a while, baby. I’ll finish up work and we can have dinner and watch a movie.”

Derek nods dreamily, relaxing under Stiles’ touch as the older man draws him in between his legs and guides his head to rest over his abdomen. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ hips, a light shiver rippling over him as Stiles’ fingers pass through his hair. His eyes slip shut as he presses his nose into the cozy fabric with a deep inhale, the peppery scent spiking saliva under his tongue, his body melting over Stiles’ lap as the doctor returns to his work.

For how long he rests there, Derek is unsure, but he revels in every second of it, the symphony of Stiles’ moving guts under his ear, the soft rasp over his scalp as Stiles combs his fingertips through his hair every so often. Thoughts rise and he lets them drift until the next one comes along, his fingertips pressing into the sweater where he secures Stiles in place.

“Doctor?” Derek mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Am I a sociopath?”

“Yeah, baby, you’re on the spectrum,” Stiles answers easily enough. The keyboard clicks in place of a scratching pen.

Derek has known this for a long time, even before his family was taken from him. Stiles’ confirmation of Derek’s blatant denial grants him a soothing relief beyond compare, like he was made for this, like he’s been waiting to hear those words his whole life, but only the way Stiles says them—without any judgement, a hint of praise, and a credence so profound that Derek is inclined to believe, too.

no pressure tags: @demonicfaerie @hellameyers @violetfairydust @dontcallpanic @gege-wondering-around ‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

I have to be honest, and this post is going to be without my buffoonery or tomfoolery.

I am entertaining the idea of getting back into writing a bit more, because my eyes really can use a bit of rest from the long hours I spend artworking.

But , and I am not exaggerating when I tell you this, the idea literally make me paralyzed with anxiety.

Yesterday night I managed to write those 400+ words for the artwork because I felt like "the main protagonist of the post is going to be the drawing anyway, so even if I fumble, it's going to be ok".

Also, while I am just a hobbyist, I am still a seasoned artist that has been working on her skill for more than 23 years. So, in a way, I feel, if not entirely confident in my skills, at the very least competent enough to know that I can create something pleasant to look at; but even then, I have always my anxiety hanging on my back like a freaking monke that has nothing better to do but bother me.

But with writing, I just become paralyzed with what I assume is fear.

Of what, I am still figuring out.

Because I feel this specific fear and block when it comes to writing an original character with a canon character (specifically, this was caused by my resurgence for Ardyn and Luscinia).

For example, when I was brainstorming for Aranea, even if my knowledge of the setting was limited to BG3 and before I started to actually deep dive into Forgotten Realms, I felt I was going like a breeze, with no fear, no uncertitude, just the brain never stopping talking and branching out by itself (which made my work immensely easier to be honest).

With Luscinia and Ardyn (but it can be even extended to Jacob and Dorothea, if one wants to talk about OC/Canon pairing), the same doesn't happen.

There is a block, a literal wall of nothingness that prevents me from writing and entertaining myself, despite all my willingness and WANT to just dive right into it, and allowing myself to have fun, and it's HORRIBLE. It feels like a freaking bubble in my chest that doesn't leave enough space for my lungs to breathe.

And while yesterday I was too tired to actually do some self-analyses of what the reason might be, this morning, after a good dose of coffee, I think I found one possible reason.

With canon characters there are limits that sometimes cannot be crossed, lest one goes OOC with them.

They are pre-made characters, with set personalities that one must respect in order to write them, and that, I found, put a crapton of pressure over me that only fan and fuel my anxiety, and this without even considering the high standards that I set for myself EACH and EVERY time.

Also, take in consideration that when it comes to creating and imagining, the only limits I like are the one I set for myself, not the one set by others (as it had happened with Dottie and Jacob, something that has partially ruined the fun I had with them), and that do WONDERS (*sarcasm*) for my ADHD.

On top of that, add the fact that if I see someone else with even a remotely similar idea as mine, I have the tendency of not pursuing it anymore because then my inner saboteur starts doing numbers.

Sometimes I am extremely good at ignoring the voices and doubt in my head that just mock me and ridicule me and fuel my anxiety, but sometimes they are just there to stay, like unpleasant roommates that cannot keep the kitchen clean and party at all times of the night😂

All this to say that I am basically a ball of anxiety in my little corner, rocking back and forth until this too shall pass, because I want to pick up the pen again for Ardyn and Luscinia, and I am utterly terrified by the idea.

But I so want to get back on track and write. I miss that so much.

[romanestuffsposts]

Come back, please

Request : Sorry for messaging you but can you do stucky with little reader where they get mad and run aways and they later found them can you make the end hurt comfort

~

Hi there love! 💜

I hope you're doing okay sweetie and I hope you like how I write your request!

And Thank you for it! 💜

Enjoy <3

****

Warnings : yells, angst, cries, pain, feelings of being lonely and ignored, argument, running away, pet names, comfort, fluff, kisses

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : They told you they were busy, but you didn't thought they would've react like this because you were trying to be kind..

****

It's been hours now that you woke up from a long and peaceful night and you just saw your Daddies once, to kiss them good morning.

You knew they had lots of work, they sat you down yesterday and explained how busy they will be tomorrow and maybe the day after. You understood and told them you would be okay on your own while they work but you didn't knew how alone you would feel.

You spent the day on the couch watching tv or playing in your playroom upstairs and now you're busy drawing for your Daddies. You feel lonely because they aren't with you so they probably feel the same ? Since you're not with them.

A nice draw could help them through their mood and help them focusing back on their work. Maybe they even will work faster after that too.

You grow more sad when you remember what happened at lunch earlier. You were hungry and didn't know how to prepare you the good sandwich Papa always make for you so you went to ask him to make you one, just one.

But when you turn the corner and spot their office's door, you saw it opening and your Papa got out with the phone in his hand, glued to his ear. You put your beautiful smile on when you saw him, you really missed him so much.

You went to him happilly but stop and frown when your Papa hold up his index, asking you to stop. He speaks to whoever was on the phone and without giving you another glance, he walks away and lets you alone.

You felt so ignored in this moment. You couldn't believed how he could forget you were here.. And it hurted even more when the idea of him doing it knowing you were still here beside him came to your mind.

You cried for a good hour after that. You were hungry and it exhausted you more, you're fighting with yourself since that moment and decided to draw something for them. Even tho you're upset now, you still want to be near them and want to feel their love. You still want to show them how much you miss them.

You smile once your hard work is done and immediately stand up and start to walk down the stairs. You bite your lips as you step closer and closer to your Daddies's office with your draws in your hands.

You knock like they always want you to when they're working in there and then open the door. A quiet giggle leave you when you see them, you really really really missed them today.

Your Papa's brows shot down when he sees you "something happened, sweetie ?" he asks worried you might be hurt or something.

You shake your head, an innocent little smile on your lips "wanted to see you"

Your Daddy sighs "baby we told you to not disturbing us today"

You ignore what he said and take a step closer "I made you a draw!" you excitedly say. Your Daddy sighs harder and drops his pen "you'll show it to us later, baby. We're really busy now and want to focus on our work" he tries to say nicely without getting angry but you don't listen to him

You take a step closer again and hold the paper up to show them "I put all the colors you liked! And some parts was hard to do but I worked hard to-"

You stop talking when your Daddy stand up brutally and slammes his hand on the desk "I said not now!" he yells making you flinch "we told you we were busy and we thought you would've been a good girl and let us work in peace without being a bother but it seems like you can't even do that!"

You look down at your draw, your little heart beating faster and faster under your Daddy's yells. Your mind race about the fact that your Papa doesn't do anything, he just sit there and let your Daddy yells at you which is as hurting than being yelled at by your Daddy.

You look up at Bucky, your face now empty of happy emotions "jus wanted to mate ya feel bett-"

"I don't care what you wanted!" he yells and snaps your draw out of your hands, crumpling it "just get out and don't come back. We have work to do" he shows you off

You quietly gasp at the sight of your now ruined draw, tears start to fill your eyes as you look at your Papa for some kind of support. He nods at the door, a hard expression on his face.

Trembling, you quickly get out of the room and run to your playroom to fall on the ground and cry your eyes out. You shake on the ground as you try to hold your loud sobs and just swing your own body, trying to comfort you yourself.

After minutes of breaking down, you look up to dry your cheeks and eyes and spot a picture of you and your Daddies on the desk in front of you. The picture shows the beautiful day you had for your birthday, your Daddies decided to throw you a big party for that special day and of course they took the prettiest picture before giving it to you as one of your many birthday presents.

You grimace to hold back your tears. It hurted too much, everything he said to you hurt you more than ever, the fact that your Papa didn't lift a finger to help you going through that hurt just as much.

You need to clear your mind. You suffocate too much in here, in this house. You feel the need to go outside and be in a place where you feel good, and safe.

Grabbing your beautiful little bag your auntie Nat got you for Christmas, you speed through your room, taking your paci and Bucksie and securing them in your bag before going dowstairs, letting the pictures, books and toys behind you.

You put your shoes on and left the house without looking behind.

~

The ring of a phone cause Steve to groan as he steps out of the bathroom to meet Bucky in the bedroom just as he steps out of the closet "she's not in there either ?" he asks, disbelief running in between the muscles of his tense body.

Bucky shakes his head. They looked in every rooms they have in the house, in all the corners you love to hid in while you're playing hide and seek, under all the beds and couches they could find in the house and under every desks and tables.

They even looked behind all the doors but there's not one sight of you anywhere.

The ring of Steve's phone sound again causing Bucky to groan "stop that fucking phone because it drive me crazy!" he snaps. Steve goes to his phone and answers the phone

"Mr Rogers ?" a lady asks from the other side of the phone. He sighs and pinches the edge of his nose, it's not the moment for an interwiew in the phone or anything like that

"it's him" he coldly says. He has other things to do right now, like finding you!

"I'm Marlina, the manager of the 5th street toy store. I think i've got something for you." her voice trail and Steve frowns, looking up at Bucky.

Bucky tilts his head and frowns too, not understanding what is happening. He watches as Stevev's face fell when he understand what she meant "we'll be there in ten minutes!" he rushes before hanging up.

"Buck grab you shoes" he says as he walks out fo the room "I know where she is"

The ride to your favorite store is really fast as Steve didn't really respected the authorized speed as he drove. They run to the counter and are greet by a brown hair woman "Mr Rogers, Mr Barnes" she greets with a nod.

She knows them but not only because of the news but because they often come to her store with their little girl.

"Where is she ?"

"She's on the third rays on your left" she says and watches them walking there.

As they turn on the tird rays like she said, they stop when they spot you, all curled up in the mountain of stuffies in the end of the ray. Bucky's heart break from the sight of you trying to hid in there.

"Princess ?" Your Papa gently calls and immediately sees you tensing at the acknowledge of them. "Can we come and sit with you and your friends ?"

You don't move and don't say anything for some seconds before nodding a little your head. And even tho they can't see your face, they definitly saw your nod.

They come to you and sit on each side of you "babygirl can you look at Daddy ?" Your Daddy asks. You whimper and squirm a little, not wanting to face him just yet "please, baby"

You bite your tongue and turn your head away from the stuffies and look at him. His face shows nothing but regrets and worries making you feel bad for nothing.

His hand lifts to remove your hair from your face but that simple movement cause you to flinch. Bucky freezes and his face feel at the realization of what he did hit him

"oh baby.." he breathes out, his voice trembling. "I am so so sorry for what I said earlier. I was tired from the work and i know it's not an excuse but I just wanted to be done with it to spend our evening together"

You close your eyes as tears fall down your cheeks "I'm so sorry if I scared you. You just wanted to make something for us and we just send you away as if you were nothing but- baby you are our everything. You deserve to be treat like a princess and it's how we should've acted today, even tho we had work"

"we're so sorry, little one. I'm so sorry for your draw" he kisses your little nose.

You break down and fall in your Daddy's chest, just wanting to be comfort and to feel safe again. Your Papa wraps his arms around the two of you and presses his chest against your back as you cry

"I'm sorry too, sweetie" he whispers in your ear "I'm sorry I didn't took the time to listen to you earlier today while I was on the phone and i'm sorry I let Daddy snaps at you. It was wrong of me" he gently kisses your ear as you sobs harder.

Everything that happened today hit you all at once as they apologise for every part of the day they let you down.

After some minutes, your sobs turn into soft sniff as you finally calm down. Your Daddy pulls away a little to rest his forehead against yours.

This moment is disturbed by your growling stomach. You still hadn't eat today and you still crave for food. Your Daddy chuckles while your Papa feels more bad about that, he pulls away, a loving smile on his face as he looks down at your belly "is that little tummy hungry ?" he teases

You shyly smile and nod your head. He chuckles again and wiggles his fingers on your belly "what does this little tummy want to eat ?"

You giggle and squirm away from his fingers "wanna pizza"

"well then this little tummy will have pizza" he winks before standing up, lifting you up with him. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your cheek rests by itself against his shoulder "and it's Papa who's paying" he taunts

Steve rolls his eyes playfully and walks along with you. You turn your head so you look at your Papa and this get his attention. You look down at your hand before looking back at him.

You raise your hand, asking him to hold it which he gladly does. He kisses the back of your hand as you all walk out of the store

[seeminglydark]

Idk if this means anything to you but I'm a comic artist who's had a hard time doing art for a few years. The first four was because of life hardship and lack of time/chronic pain, but now lately I've had time but a mental block. I'm creeping up on 30 and felt bad about myself for "missing out" on my opportunity to be a comic artist. It was really validating to see you post about being 41 (correct me if I'm wrong) especially since you have such wonderful comics that I've been following for a while now. It makes me feel less like I'm wasting my time putting my things in order when I "should" be drawing.

Hopefully this doesn't come across as offensive or anything. It was just comforting and validating. Anyway, big fan! Love your characters a whole lot and hope you have a good day!

Dear Anon

I am 41 years old. I have wanted to make comics my entire life. before my dad got sick, and my childhood kinda fell apart, all i did was draw. after that, i used the stories in my head to cope. life moved on. i was convinced not to accept a partial scholarship to an art school in California. life got hard. i worked at a hotel, and after i escaped an abusive relationship at 22 i hitchhiked/bused far far away to start over. i tried to make comics again, but i had to survive, and so i got another job doing the only thing i knew how to do, hotels. and i worked. and worked. and life got harder and times got heavier and i didn't get time to draw and i worked double hours, 15 to 17 hours a day. and i went four years without drawing a single thing.

i kept working myself into the ground. i was 29 now. i picked up a pen again and drew a red haired boy. he had a hard life and no love and no friends. his problems were on the outside, for everyone to see. he ran away but his problems went with him.

i was 32. surely i was too old now. my time to be an artist was gone. i had no school. no hope. i was so far behind the younger gen i saw online. i cried. all the time. i wrote stories in my email drafts while i worked shifts. i stayed up late trying to learn how to draw again. i cried some more. the boy grew. i called him Fiach. worthy. a raven. later i renamed him Avery. he was like a bird, he had wings, he was my hope. i started writing some friends for him. the people i wished i had around me.

i started finding time and space. i got a new job, something where i was lucky enough to set my own hours. for the first time i had a partner who believed in me. things were hard. but i was drawing now. and that helped.

i went on a road trip and i started drawing pages of an unnamed story on 6 by 8 paper in a sketchbook. i drew 20 of them. 'what could i call this?' i thought. Nothing Seems as Dark...no says my partner. Seemingly Dark. he made me a logo. i was 35. i bought an ipad, i cant do this on paper, its too much story i have too much to say. so i learned how to draw digitally by tracing my own trad art pages.

I spoke to my dad for the last time on June 17th, fathers day that year. he said 'you're good. i'm proud. and you're gonna do amazing things. none of this is your fault. and we will speak again soon.' i didn't know id never hear his voice again. he died a week later.

i turned 36. i kept trying. i'm old, i don't understand the internet. how can i share this?

i stumbled across Lore Olympus. i was introduced to webcomics. id read comics online before but the thought never occurred to me. i opened an account on Tapas. and then i stared at it. what if no one likes it. what if its bad. my art isn't good. i should wait til i'm better. but will i ever really be better? or will i always believe that tomorrow is better? do it now. if even one person gets something out of this story, this story about a boy who is you, a boy who looking for hope, a boy who might make it, then that is enough isn't it.

June 17th 2018 i launched Seemingly Dark.

SD's five year anniversary is in a week. 0ver 700 pages. leaps and bounds in progress with my skills. a printed comic under my belt as of monday. i was always a storyteller. but i was always an artist too.

I am 41 years old, dear anon. I did not truly embark on this journey til i was 35. life got in the way. even now, chronic illness gets in the way. but its worth it. its never ever too late. i believe in you the way my dad believed in me. i reset my life again and again. but I was always an artist. and if thats who you are, and who you want to be, even if things dont go the way you wished they could, you're an artist too.

im 41 years old. i speak about my age, even though i often feel too old to belong in spaces, cuz really, in this case age is just a number. take care of yourself. do what you need to do. and little by little, when your able, carve out your space until it becomes more of a habit. sometimes i think about all the years i lost not drawing or creating. but there's a lot of factors that make me believe had i made my story then, it wouldn't be the story it is now, i needed to live a bit. i needed to find myself. i know this was long, but i just wanted you to see i also had to put my life in order, and getting notes like this reminds me it wasnt at all a waste. im glad i could offer you some comfort. thats honestly the best compliment i could ever receive.

TL;dR I was 35 when i sat down and seriously started making comics, because life always got in the way and so did my confidence. i always feared being too old. im 41 now, still going strong.

[velvet-games]

I wrote a random draft for a radiostatic ficlet on the car a couple days ago; still having problems with it but might publish to ao3 if it gets better.

for context, this is part of the same universe as favorite/most of my art. vox leaves the vees and is working at the hotel now; he and alastor have repaired their friendship at this point and are hurtling toward that liminal queerplatonic "what are we" stage.

“Oh, this hotel venture truly has been an inspiration, hasn’t it, Vox?” Alastor twirled around Vox’s office, nearly smashing his screen in with the microphone several times. “Romance, betrayal, existential revelations about the ontology of the universe; it has everything!”

“You say that like you’re not part of the romance, betrayal, and existential revelations about the ontology of the universe,” Vox said, narrowly missing another hit. 

“Oh, I don’t mind being a part of the show! I play the best character after all, haha!” Alastor finally set the microphone down, much to Vox’s relief. “I’ve never felt the rivers of creative ambrosia flow through my veins quite the way they do now! Every broadcast has been a hit!” Raucous applause permeated the air, occasional whoops breaking through. He gave one more twirl and a bow that almost caused him to topple over. Vox smiled faintly. Silly, he thought.

“Glad you’re having fun, buddy; now can I get back to work?” Vox sighed, feeling a little sick. He sat heavily in his chair before turning toward the wall of screens currently dotted with shining logos and random livestreams. 

The applause cut off abruptly. “Hm? Why, friend, you look even bluer than usual,” he said. “Say, why don’t you start drawing again? That used to cheer you right up. It’ll be just like old times! Me, inspired to orchestrate the best broadcasts Hell has ever seen; you, with your mediocre pictures that made you ever so happy for some inexplicable reason!”

Vox froze. “I … can’t.”

“Sure you can; why not?” Alastor replied steadily. “You used to do it all the time.”

Vox looked up, shoulders tense. “Alastor, that was decades ago.” His voice was quiet and monotone, like it was trying to avoid any spots that may contain emotions.

“You started tinkering again.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

The static in Alastor’s voice dimmed, and he pulled out a pen. “Just try.”

Vox stared at it blankly. “... What if I can’t do it anymore? What if I’m bad at it?” Alastor had to lean in to hear him.

“Then be bad at it.”

“You literally make fun of me for being bad at things all the time. You called my ‘pictures’ mediocre 30 seconds ago.”

“Is your ego really so fragile?" Alastor sighed. "I won’t make fun of you this time.”

“Why not?”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

Vox shook his head, voice finally cracking and filling with static. “It’s gone, I can’t … it’s not ��� I’ll just know that I failed. That I let myself lose it.”

Vox tried to turn away, but Alastor gripped the sides of his screen and pulled his face close. “Or you could find it again. You could find that part of yourself and the world and remember what it feels like to be alive. You’ll be alive, even here. How will you know if you don’t put pen to paper?” Alastor’s eyes shone. “I’ll do it with you.”

Vox laughed abruptly, voice wet. “You suck at drawing. And you hate being bad at things.”

“I was terrible at everything before I was good at them,” Alastor said. “I’ll be bad at things for you. We can be bad at it together. We can love it together.”

Vox’s face wobbled a bit. He took the pen. “Okay.”

****

The first few sketches sucked ass. After that, it was like Vox had never stopped. 

Alastor looked up from his shaky doodles of Niffty and a woman with a scar on her cheek. “You’re only drawing me.”

Vox felt his screen heat up. “I like drawing you.”

“Of course; I’m a lovely muse. But you should check if anything else is interesting.”

Sharks were pretty interesting. But after filling a page with hammerheads and a Blahaj plush, Vox went right back to Alastor: those big doe eyes, the curve of his slightly upturned nose, the curl that always covered his cheek …

Alastor glanced over again, but he only smiled softly this time. His doodles were starting to include a little box with antennae and shark teeth. 

****

“FUCK!” Vox yelled from the other room. 

“What is it, darling?” Alastor called. He set his book on the coffee table. 

Vox stomped into the lobby with a rolled up sleeve and the biggest frown Alastor had ever seen. “I think I gave myself carpal tunnel. Some-fucking-how.”

Alastor blinked. “You’ve been drawing in your room for at least four hours a day every day for the last three months. You’re also never fully charged because you refuse to let that interfere with your sixteen-hour work days. You really didn’t expect sickness or injury?”

“I–” Vox looked genuinely indignant for a moment before his eyes went unfocused, probably checking the footage of himself drawing he had stored. “O-Oh. But I meant, like, I forgot this body even had a median nerve that could get fucked up.” Alastor shrugged, and Vox flopped unceremoniously onto the couch. “What now?”

“Well, I’m afraid there is more to life than drawing. You should join my broadcast tonight; we can discuss your woes in detail.”

“Ugh, shut up. You’re just as grumpy when your voice gives out and you have to pretend you have a super important emergency errand instead of admitting you sound like you’ve been smoking since age five.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

Vox frowned again. “Mmmmgghhhhhhhhfine. But you’re learning to paint next time you lose your voice.” 

The broadcast went well that night. 

-----

oh, the woes of loving something and getting really good at it and other people expecting you to be good at it and then getting distracted by other things and losing that skill and feeling like you've missed out on your potential but also thinking about it puts a pit in your stomach because every day you wait to start doing it again the more your skill deteriorates and maybe it's not worth it to start again at all but you miss it so much and it used to be a part of you and maybe now you're missing a part of yourself--

anyway. I think my biggest worry rn is about the pacing + vox/alastor's voice. I keep forgetting what vox's voice sounds like, and I kept imagining alastor's pilot voice, which is maybe a little too unhinged for this fic lol.

[sempsimps]

toga head cannons + dating bits

so mha what a show i have been violently thrown back into it and currently re watching it along with another 4 animes anyway here i am ready to make this since I have like *checks notes * 16- nope 19- nope hold on 24! drafts and I can see more on the horizon so I'm finally letting my bisexual self get some crazy girls on my list

headcannons

She likes Hello Kitty. I think she would love Kuromi (I don't know for sure, as I've never watched it. I'm not really into Sanrio stuff.)

she has some skills with drawing but nothing too major. maybe a really good sketch once in a while, on some important documents (definitely got into a lot of trouble for doodling on her school books or anything like that. ik i did)

She chews on pens or pencils. possibly hoodie drawstrings, just anything, to be honest.

I feel like she loves dinosaurs, like at least knowing some random facts from like stolen picture books or remembering an interesting thing from a museum, and I guess the Internet exists

Dating stage

she has been rejected a few times, which is obvious, so when she finds you, she is nervous about falling fast yet again and getting left. again. but she can't help it, and when you say you feel the same, she could happily fight and die for you x10 more than she already felt like she would

Blood jewelry absolutely 100% like a pretty heart-shaped pendent that's suspiciously liquidy and a beautiful red like take all my money (I will for the precious bean)

She is a criminal, so getting more domestic dates is kind of difficult. so there's options 1 she drinks someone else's blood to disguise and just dresses different from them, so it's less obvious and go to a coffee shop or something. OR 2 screw the domestic stuff! and go out to steal sweets or candy and idk steal a shopping cart, go spray paint some rich guys house, and do stupid shit like getting arrested only to call dabi or shigaraki for help as you both laugh at how stupid that was.

She would love it if you knew how to style hair or let her style yours and be matching

Speaking of matching toga would absolutely have pj's/ onesies for the both of you. examples I can think of would be the night and light furry ones (I think they neat) also those two peice ones so sharing two sets like, skull top and pink short and then having pink tank top and skull trousers.

Love language is physical touch, words of affirmation, and gift giving all the way. Holding hands? "Ah! We're holding hands haha, suck it, dabi your bitchless!". she needs soothing words during a cuddle session like fr tell her she's an amazing girlfriend. Anything you get her stuff like that is definitely her new bragging right, new hair clip? It's on, and she refuses to take it out until you do it yourself. A little pin it's going on her skirt, a keyring? She's putting at least two of those on the handle of her favourite knife. You made her a painting/ printed a photo/ wrote a poem or anything? It's getting framed and hung above her bed

She probably had lots of photos before you dated, but now she definitely has. 2 folders one is a digital file on her phone, and the other is stashed away, filled with secretly taken ones that she looks at when she misses you

If you're a hero, she'll make it a point to watch you and look at all your fan base online. "It's my turn on the TV my adorable partner is on." She would also want to go on every mission close to where your agency would be. If you have any merchandise, she has it already. If she sees other people wearing your clothing line, she would either compliment it or want to stab them (I can't decide)

That's all i can think of, and i want to do more, so anything else in the comments would be nice. im trying to ease my way into writing female characters. i might be bi, but i can't talk to women, so this was fun and a little difficult for me

[8turning]

Hi! I wanted to say the Haemin fic you wrote was so good! Can I request a Myungho x reader? Anything is fine with me and thank you if you do! ❤

Also, are you watching Boys Planet?

hi anon!! thank you for the love on the haemin fic :] this ask is a bit dated and bp is over now,, but yes i did watch and i cant wait for zb1's debut :D

⌕ . . . ji myungho — paper rings !

ji myungho x gn ! reader ★ fluff. ★ wc 550 ★ warnings: mild cursing. playful insults/name-calling. let me know if i missed anything!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〈 REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED ! 〉

"you're making a mess," you joke, watching as myungho cut strips of paper over and over again, never seeming to get it to whatever size he desired. "why don't you measure it?"

"no ruler," he replies quickly, eyes trained on the way his hand contorts the scissors. his gaze flicks between his hands and the end of the paper, face shifting quickly as he looks toward you. "give me your finger really quick."

because of his rushed request, you do so without much thought, popping another chip into your mouth with your vacant hand as you lay your hand palm-up for him. myungho gently takes your hand his his, flipping it so it lay flat against the edge of the paper.

with the ends of his scissors, he makes small dents into the paper to mark where he needs to cut - the faint smile that appeared on his face after was one that was hard to tear your gaze from.

"thank you," he says happily, grabbing your hand once more and squeezing it within his own before letting go. and just like that, he was back to work.

your eyes are glued to your phone once again, mindlessly scrolling through pictures and videos that were somehow "curated for you" - the sentiment was hard to believe.

myungho slices the paper, satisficed with its width now that he had your help. cutting a much smaller piece, he grabs his pen and writes "i love you ♡ " and quickly placing it in the middle of the larger strand of paper before you could catch him.

he languidly twists the paper, doing his best to create perfect triangles to make the band a bit sturdier. his note is successfully trapped and hidden within the paper, he grabs some tape to bind the two edges together.

with his pen in his hand once again, he draws a heart on the face of one of the triangles. examining the paper ring in his fingers before smiling to himself. his heart was racing, truth be told. this is the most forward thing he's done since he realized his feelings for you - his mind could barely take it.

while you were lost in your phone, myungho grabs your hand once more, isolating your pointer finger within his own and gently sliding the ring there. when he meets your eyes, it felt as if all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs. you were looking back at him with wide eyes, so close he could practically see himself in their reflection.

you look down towards you hand that was still caged within his. "you made it for me?"

he tried to shake off his nerves, resuming back to the myungho you knew all too well. "is that a bad thing to want to do?"

you shake your head, smile on your lips and you huff out a small chuckle. "of course not, stupid," you say, leaning back in your chair and examining the ring further. "it's cute."

"i'm glad you like it," he replies much more sheepishly than he would have liked - he's glad you didn't seem to notice. "wanna help me clean up as a thank you for the wonderful gift?" myungho asks, leaning forward on the desk and resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. you smile:

"hell no."

© 8turning 2023.

[skylitcreations]

I miss when I felt like I could put my all into my own personal art. Nowadays, I only really post quick sketches cuz if I put more effort into it, I'll feel guilty that I'm not putting that effort towards commissions. I only make warm-ups for myself and then dedicate all my proper rendering to stuff I've been paid to make. The worst part is I know, I KNOW, I have the capability to make art just as good as many people I admire who create absolutely gorgeous pieces. But I don't have the time to do that, and when I get to my normal quality with a comm, I just want to be done with it so I don't take it further. I need to get caught up on comms just so I can start properly challenging myself again and getting better with my work. I feel like I've stagnated because of this predicament. I want to study and improve again, but I can't convince myself to dedicate the time to it because 'if you can draw, you should be working on what you were paid to work on.'

The fact my tablet keeps messing up my pen strokes to make everything take twice as long makes it even worse.

[skellagirl]

I am, as usual, late lol, but Y'KNOW. This is gonna be a long, rambly post lol, sorry, I have a lot of thoughts.

2023 was a weird year for me, artwise. When it began I was still deep in my Art Block From Hell, which had begun in mid-2021 and lasted the entirety of 2022.

Being in the thick of such a ridiculously suffocating art block, for TWO AND A HALF YEARS, is like... I can't describe how fucking life-draining it is. It felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me -- like a part of me, which used to be as effortless as breathing or blinking my eyes, had ceased to function altogether. It wasn't just a regular art block, it was a complete identity crisis. I could no longer trust the instincts I'd honed over twenty-plus years, could no longer trust my sense of observation or my ability to recreate what I saw. I felt BROKEN, and every single time I picked up my tablet pen it was like I was scraping my insides with a spoon, trying to pick up whatever tiny dregs of dried-up, crusty shit I could manage to puke up onto my canvas. It was fucking painful and humiliating and completely demoralizing.

I'm not really sure what finally got me to do so, but sometime in summer (my memory is shit lol) I downloaded Game Maker, found a video tutorial on youtube, and just... gave myself over to it. I made myself learn how to use Aseprite, and working with pixels, making teeny-tiny little sprites, forced me to work in ways I usually don't. It was a lot harder for me to find the flaws in my art when my art was thirty-five pixels tall and the anatomy was stylized to communicate clear information rather than be a recreation or approximation of reality. I think I really do credit that time working on game dev as the thing that finally cracked loose all the gunk that was keeping me stuck -- I could not perpetuate the cycle of toxicity I'd fallen into because I could barely even conceptualize what 'good' or 'bad' pixel art even looked like lol. I just knew that I was making art, and for the first time in two years, it didn't feel like I was having to desperately beg the emaciated husks of my sense of self-worth and confidence to cooperate while doing so.

(I actually sort of abandoned my foray into game dev around August/September lol, as my adhd-brain, flitting around like a little hummingbird to every dopamine-rich-flower, is wont to do 🥲 But I wanna get back into it at some point!)

From there I had a rush of inspiration for an original project I've been mulling around in my head for years, and I wrote thousands of words in my worldbuilding document, made a map, developed the shell of a possible actual STORY. I returned to sketching. Conventional sketching. It was, at first, largely still comprised of that same demotivating struggle against myself, but I was so deep in the throes of inspiration (after several years of this project laying dormant in my google drive) that I NEEDED to sketch. So I kept going. And after a while, it got....... easier. And I started hating everything I made a little less. I painted, properly, for the first time in years. I stayed up late into the night, even if it meant I would be tired at work the next day, because drawing felt so damn GOOD again and I had missed that feeling so much. All I wanted to do was draw. For the first time in two and a half years, I could finally see the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

I still don't think I'm quite out of the woods yet. My style is changing, as all artists' styles do over time, and that comes with stumbling adjustments. My confidence is still small and shaky and recovering; I still catch myself second-guessing what I've drawn, and even looking at some of the things here on my grid makes me cringe a little bit for one reason or another.

But compared to both 2021 and 2022, the volume of art, and in particular the volume of art I don't actively despise, is WAY higher, and I'm really really hopeful that that means I'm finding my footing again.

So! Here's to 2024, and to continuing to move towards the light at the end of the tunnel 🙏🌟 I'm gonna try.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Making Comics. By Lynda Barry. Drawn and Quarterly, 2019.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: self-help, art guide, pedagogy

Series: N/A

Summary: Hello students, meet Professor Skeletor. Be on time, don’t miss class, and turn off your phones. No time for introductions, we start drawing right away. The goal is more rock, less talk, and we communicate only through images.

For more than five years the cartoonist Lynda Barry has been an associate professor in the University of Wisconsin–Madison art department and at the Wisconsin Institute for Discovery, teaching students from all majors, both graduate and undergraduate, how to make comics, how to be creative, how to not think. There is no academic lecture in this classroom. Doodling is enthusiastically encouraged.

Making Comics is the follow-up to Barry's bestselling Syllabus , and this time she shares all her comics-making exercises. In a new hand-drawn syllabus detailing her creative curriculum, Barry has students drawing themselves as monsters and superheroes, convincing students who think they can’t draw that they can, and, most important, encouraging them to understand that a daily journal can be anything so long as it is hand drawn.

Barry teaches all students and believes everyone and anyone can be creative. At the core of Making Comics is her certainty that creativity is vital to processing the world around us.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: mildly disturbing imagery

This is another one of those books that has been on my TBR list for way too long. I love Lynda Barry's work, and back when I thought I had a shot at being a teacher, I figured this would be a good guide for the classroom.

Turns out this book is a good guide outside of it as well, and it motivated me to take up my pencil and start drawing again.

I love that Barry focuses not on developing artistic skill but in breaking down barriers when it comes to making Comics. Barry doesn't lay out how to draw action poses or how to do speech bubbles effectively; instead, this book is all about finding your own voice and learning to do away with inhibitions. Barry praises the artwork of children and demonstrates the relationship between stories and images, and as someone who struggles with not feeling good enough, I felt like I was invited to throw myself into the process of making comics, skill level be dawned.

I also really loved that this book felt like a composition notebook filled with doodles (which it probably was, at some point). It's not a clean, pristine how-to guide with step-by-step instructions, but it is clear while also not being afraid to be messy, silly, and spontaneous. Most of the images are taken from student drawings, and there's a charm to them that I love more than professional pieces.

And lastly, I love that this book uses basic, inexpensive materials for its exercises. Barry does not insist that students buy special paper or pens - composition notebooks and felt tips will do. This also helps lower the barrier to entry so that readers don't feel like they need fancy equipment in order to draw.

All that being said, I do think this book will be harder to use if you're on your own or don't necessarily have any interest in comics within a classroom setting. Barry's book is designed to outline what her comics courses look like, and though you can probably do most of the exercises at home, a lot of them will need partners or groups of people. So just be aware going in that this isn't necessarily a how to draw manual for the lone self-taught student.

TL;DR: Making Comics is a wonderful overview of how to teach comics in a classroom setting using hands-on drawing exercises. Barry is a master at lowering the barrier to entry and encouraging students to find joy and expression in art, regardless of skill level.

[youandthemountains]

So a long time ago, I promised @cookietastic a rec list of danzen fics, and bc I am treating myself today I'm finally making it. First, complete works, all fairly short:

Aftercare: a drabble by @libertinepast for everyone craving something based off of Chozen's proclivity for getting his hands on Daniel

Untitled by @iamtheremin - look, you can really never go wrong reading anything by theremin, but her danzen fics are particularly beautiful imo. This is - I almost don't want to reveal too much because the build up is so beautifully done so let's say it's about Daniel bounding out as he does, curious and open and half-cocked even as an old man, and what comes of that.

Untitled 2 by @iamtheremin - A missing scene fic for season 5, Chozen POV. god it's got everything - a wonderful Kumiko and some understanding of Damiko's whole deal too. A play on the infamous NINY scene with a happier ending. WINGMAN JOHNNY god might be my actual favorite and nearly impossible to find thing. Misunderstandings. It's just so lovely.

draw the curtain, come back to bed by @youandthemountains - yes, me. Look, I know it's got to be in bad taste to recommend yourself, but. I do reread this constantly. I really gave myself what I wanted and I actually feel good that I communicatrd what I wanted to. It's also a missing scenes fic for s5, but this one is about quiet intimacy and rest.

@phoomwhoosh 's Danzen 90s AU - look it's what it says in the title, and it's so dreamy and sugarspun - in every way, sweet and hot. Enjoy a lovely Kumiko cameo in the second part.

I Know We're Karate Cousins But... by @merv606 - speaking of hot, some fantastic Amanda/Daniel/Chozen smut. Love this vision of the Larussos.

Old Acquaintance by @iamtheremin - As the luckiest person in the world, this was a fantastic birthday gift last year. Chozen reminisces about old loves and old selves as he enjoys his new present.

Last Thoughts by @danielslaw - beautiful missing scene fic about the aftermath of the final Silver fight. Wounds and near-death love confessions.

Putting Out the Fire by @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy - man, let me tell you. This fic. So empathetic to both Chozen and Daniel. So funny and lively. So sweet and charged. It's set in s5, during the cut the head off the snake scene. Finally Daniel's adoring smile there gets the good hard kiss it deserves in response.

Anything to be Your Baby by @macchiatosdumptruck - again speaking of smut, if you're looking for sugarbaby Daniel in a kind of Crime AU, you've got it here.

And now the amazing WIPs - some a little longer, but all so worth it imo

I Forget Where We Were by @ladyifrit - FIC OF ALL TIME. A fantastic secret santa, this is a Daniel/Amanda, Daniel/Chozen and eventual Daniel/Amanda/Chozen fic exploring the missing scenes from the aftermath of Daniel's beating at Stingray's house. It's such a good character study of Amanda and exploration of the Larussos, I love it so much.

Pictures of You by @chwheeler - WHAT IF young Daniel and Chozen got into sexting before it was cool, and became odd pen pals who exchanged softcore hot photographs instead of letters because vulnerability hard? WHAT IF you were craving a fic that felt like a Carly Rae Jepsen song? WHAT IF you wanted to read about the cast of kk2 with real, full lives and feelings and humor?

And some shameless WIP plugs of mine:

Like Tears in the Rain for CK Halloween (I know...) a loose Blade Runner AU. What if Terry Silver used those riches to work with an evil tech company to build a Daniel Android? What if there are multiple Daniels, only one flesh and blood one, and all of them feel like the real Danie to themselves? What if that sense of something wrong with them is correct for some of them? Endgame is Daniel/Chozen and Daniel/Amanda, but two different types of Daniel's.

Serei no Mai for the Secret Santa - a Daniel/Kumiko/Chozen endgame AU of the Lindsey Lohan Christmas movie. Daniel moved to Okinawa in the 90s where he helped a married Yukie and Miyagi run a hotel. Chozen ended up following Kumiko on tour as she followed her ballerina dreams. He hasn't been back to Okinawa since his exile, but when he's called to return home, a series of events leads to him being an amnesiac in a conflicted Daniel's bed.