#i'm so sorry about all the watermarks

[cyan1decandy]

Stop Bleeding Creatives

I managed to finish my midterm project early! So here's my propaganda poster 😌

[praysia]

Friendly reminder to please credit me if you're going to be reuploading my work. I'd actually much rather them NOT be reuploaded onto Tumblr, where I have already posted them myself. I don't mind them being uploaded to resource sites or to other platforms as long as you give visible credit. It's just upsetting and ruins any sort of motivation to make things when people do this. I see them posted in resource dumps ( often with no credit, which is required for reposting my things ) a lot on here.

This especially applies to my renders, which I spend a lot of time on. I see them reposted in response to asks for them with absolutely no mention of who made them.

TLDR ; please credit me for the love of God if you're reposting my work, regardless of what it is. I'd much rather you not repost them onto Tumblr ( linking back to my post is very simple. ) 🙏

[watchandyoullsee]

Ariel Takes the Wheel

Scene 1: Ariel "Just Forgot"

King Triton (1989): "I just don't know what we're going to do with you, young lady."

Ariel (1989): "Daddy, I'm sorry, I just forgot, I--"

King Triton (2023): "It's irresponsible. Your sisters are only here for one phase of the Coral Moon. Can you imagine any one of them missing the gathering?"

Ariel (2023): "No, you're right. I'm sorry." (Excuse the watermark; I don't know where else to find images.) Of course, Flounder comes to her defense in the LA just like the 1989 version, saying it wasn't her fault, but Ariel realizes her mistake and takes full responsibility.

Scene 2: Blaming Sebastian

Ariel never blames anyone but herself in the 2023 version. She knows it's wrong to make the deal with Ursula in both versions, but the Live Action Ariel does not do it just for herself, but for both worlds -- after all, humans and merpeople may be different, but that doesn't make them enemies. Shipwrecks are alarmingly frequent, taking the lives of humans and damaging the seafloor below. Were the relations between the two peoples mended, perhaps their respective worlds could mend as well.

Thus, the stakes are higher. Had Triton been willing to listen while she had her voice (and it is understandable why he wasn't), she would never have had to give it up to be heard. 2023 Ariel not only rebels against her father because he made her upset (and she's obsessed with a human prince), but because she is doing what she believes is right for herself and her people. Since she heard Eric express a similar desire to bridge the gap between their kingdoms and the rest of the world (a desire she has never heard expressed by anyone else), it is only natural that she forms an immediate attachment to him. His beautiful face is not a motivating factor, but a nice bonus, and proof that humans are not all monsters.

Scene 3: Ariel "Didn't Mean To"

Ariel (1989): "Daddy, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to! I didn't know!"

Ariel (2023): "I'm sorry, Father, this was all my fault."

The point of this comparison is to highlight how important it was that Ariel took the wheel of the ship at the end. These are two very different characters, and thus their character arcs are different. Ariel in 1989 was curious, naïve, stubborn, rebellious in the typical adolescent fashion, and innocent as an infant. Her arc wasn't the noblest for a princess, as notwithstanding her mistakes and lack of character growth, she managed to receive all that she desired in the end. She didn't need to kill Ursula because Eric was there to do it for her, just as Scuttle was there to stall the wedding and retrieve her voice, and Sebastian was there all the way along to get her closer to Eric. Animated Ariel did not take responsibility for her actions. How could she, when she didn't know any better? Every movement she made was in her own self-interest (though I think by the end she really did love Eric as a person and not just a pretty face). Still, we love her because she is the picture of wide-eyed, adventurous youth, and there is much room for her yet to grow up, even after she's married. Because of her carefree innocence, it's nigh impossible to hate her.

Live Action Ariel is also carefree to a point, but the weight of her title and responsibilities shines through in her character. She is ignorant about the Above World (by no means from lack of effort), but clearly educated as a princess should be regarding her own. She is less stubborn in her naivety and more secure in her sense of right and wrong. There is an important distinction to be made between knowing what is right and remaining steadfast in that knowledge, versus remaining immovable in one's obliviousness.

So why was it important that Ariel took the wheel in the climax? Because she had taken the wheel all along. Had she been trapped in a vortex like in the cartoon, a damsel in distress, it would have been a disservice to her particular character arc -- that of a girl who took responsibility for her actions at every turn. "Those sacrifices you made were a choice that you can't undo," she sings in 'For the First Time.' This thread of action->consequence->action would have been left dangling, unresolved if she had suddenly lost all power.

Does this in any way diminish Eric's character? Not at all. He was willing to sacrifice his life to be with Ariel through the storm. He did everything in his power to save her. He still threw the spear, which undoubtedly saved her life in that moment (and, might I say, was a display of incredible competence to have an aim underwater like that). In that way, he repays her in kind, after she'd rescued him from drowning.

As an aside, she mimics his exact movement when he had steered the ship earlier in the film. Had she not observed what he did in that storm, she might not have known what to do in the final battle.

Ariel still needed help -- she still needed the support and aid of her animal companions, Eric, the castle staff, and her father. BUT she also took plenty of action to satisfy her arc, avenged her father's death, and she gave credit where it was due:

Ariel (2023): "You gave your life for me."

King Triton (2023): "And you fought to get my life back."

Ariel (2023): "I didn't fight alone, Father. Eric was with me."

I hope this post makes it a little clearer why robbing Ariel of her ability to act in the climax of the film would have been a poor choice, specifically in the Live Action. And, by the way, you can still prefer one or the other, or neither. While I don't dislike the cartoon, I obviously prefer the more mature and responsible Ariel.

[heartsofminds]

my life is changing every day, in every possible way

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.

A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !

“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.” 

Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.

The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have. 

“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him. 

He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing. 

Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be. 

The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?” 

“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.” 

Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used. 

“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.” 

Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. 

It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving. 

Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options. 

Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more. 

In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .

Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt. 

He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is. 

Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman. 

“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop. 

“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him. 

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.” 

“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs. 

“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed. 

He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that? 

“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy. 

Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once. 

“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.” 

And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go. 

Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason. 

“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans. 

“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.” 

Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 

Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?” 

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.” 

“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”  

“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her. 

“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him. 

“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.” 

And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year. 

But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry. 

“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl. 

The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort. 

“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.

“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.” 

“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.” 

Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.

Carrying a baby is harder than it looks. 

Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.

It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures. 

But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be. 

Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid). 

He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox. 

She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms. 

“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?” 

“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears. 

Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair. 

Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs. 

“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?” 

Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick. 

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” 

Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween. 

“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.” 

He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated. 

A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is. 

Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest. 

God, this girl is so dramatic. 

“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness. 

Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.” 

And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can. 

Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why. 

Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.” 

Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby. 

“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.” 

Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.” 

He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return. 

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” 

He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up. 

“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.” 

Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle. 

His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends. 

The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him. 

Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them. 

“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion. 

“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?” 

“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.” 

“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?” 

Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!” 

“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.” 

“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –” 

Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend. 

“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar. 

“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up. 

“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew. 

“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face. 

Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper  “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there. 

“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice. 

With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight. 

He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed. 

While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night. 

Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.

Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game. 

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello. 

He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume. 

His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley. 

He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak. 

“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?” 

Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween. 

Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy. 

“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”

Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet. 

“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.” 

Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows. 

“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.  

“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm. 

“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!” 

Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize. 

“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically. 

“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.” 

She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head. 

Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in. 

He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.

Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley. 

And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened. 

“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles. 

Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her. 

“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.” 

Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.” 

Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in. 

All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead. 

Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway. 

“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses. 

“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips. 

“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.” 

“She’s what?” 

“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!” 

Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately. 

“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him. 

By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex. 

His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding. 

“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad. 

Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position. 

“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder. 

“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.” 

Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now? 

“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.” 

Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?” 

Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for. 

But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him. 

Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself. 

He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.” 

Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand. 

He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.” 

Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father. 

And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be. 

She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her. 

“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.” 

Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews. 

Who the fuck gives gum to a baby? 

Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest. 

He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor. 

He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017). 

And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob. 

And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week). 

Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores. 

The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention. 

“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?” 

And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you. 

Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there. 

But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken. 

“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that. 

He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language. 

Fuck. Why do I always do this? 

“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in. 

From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend. 

But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces. 

Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind. 

“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.” 

He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –” 

“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off. 

Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you? 

“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”  

He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use. 

You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –” 

“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.” 

You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”

You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you? 

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.” 

And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you? 

You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table. 

“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.” 

He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?” 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you. 

Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it. 

Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend. 

Some things just aren’t meant to be. 

Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha. 

“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,”  Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth. 

Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth. 

“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks. 

Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?” 

Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry. 

“You what?” 

“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.” 

Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?” 

Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron. 

“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him. 

Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.

“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?” 

“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact. 

“You did what?” 

“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.”” 

Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say. 

“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.” 

There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it. 

You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all. 

But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person. 

No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain. 

And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago. 

So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how. 

“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.” 

And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you. 

[stocious]

how to spot stolen/uncredited gifs + how to work the search function

there's been a lot of talk about not stealing gifs and not supporting people who do, but it might not be easy to spot shady posts for everyone. so i made this little guide with things i personally look out for. at the end there's also a guide on how to work the search function. i hope this will help out there on the wild tumblrmachine!

the gif has a watermark that doesn't match the poster and there's no "gif by @[username]" under the gif. please note that a lot of people don't watermark their gifs at all, but this is one of the biggest give aways to a gif being stolen and reuploaded.

the gif doesn't stretch across the entire post. very seldom does a gif maker go through the entire process of making a gif and not making it cover the entire post space. in the example below, the gif was most likely a part of a set, as a second gif would fit perfectly right next to the one posted.

"theme posts" with gifs of different sizes and/or quality. in the examples below, "mickey smiling" has gifs of different sizes and no "gif by" credit under either of them. "theme posts" can still be made with proper credit to the gif maker, like "road trip" to the right.

new posters and no "my gifs" tag. if you're unsure if the gif is stolen or not, click the top of the post and go the blog and look at the tags attached to the post. if someone made the gif themselves, there's usually a "my gifs" or a similiar tag under the post. this might be a good thing to do if someone is new to the space has started posting gifs. this is not 100% foolproof method, but it can help you give an idea if the gif is stolen or not.

so how do i work the search function? how do i get the gifs i want?

good question! in the example of "mickey smiling", try searching for just that - "mickey milkovich smile" and you should get some good results. in the case of grabbing a specific gif from a specific post, i'll try to make a guide down below. if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask!

first, find a post you want to use a gif from. we're gonna use this set from @heymacy.

open the post you wanna use and copy the url to it. then make a new post and hit the gif search button. paste the url and it should find you the first gif of the set. click the gif and tumblr brings you back to your post with the gif and the "gif by heymacy" at the bottom.

but say you want the last image in the set. we're gonna use a tiny bit of html but don't fret.

first, do the previous step i just explained above.

click the cog wheel at the top right corner, scroll down and choose "text editor - html". go back to your post and it should be a whole bunch of text instead of an image.

search the text for "img scr" and then delete everything between the two quotation marks following that, it starts with https and ends with gifv.

go back to the post with the gif set and right click the gif you want (in this case the last one of the set), and choose "copy image link" and paste it between the quotation marks where you deleted stuff before. make sure not to delete any quotation marks and that your new link placed between them!

please note: you might get an error message from tumblr that the post contains unsupported html, just ignore that.

then click the cog wheel again, and change the editor back to "rich text". you're new image should be there, with proper credit!

bam, you're done! i'm also including a video below of me doing these steps so you can follow along. sorry my os is in swedish, but the thing i right click on is just "copy image link" as stated above.

here's a more in depth guide to this method, but it can be a little confusing if you're not used to working in html.

as you add more images and text to your post, the amount of text after you change to the html editor will increase. it might be hard to find the exact gif you want to change, but play around with it and try it out. the more you use the method, it'll be easier to work with.

thank you for coming to my ted talk, i hope this helps! 🫂

[random-fandom1984]

Hi!! 😆

May I request TFP Yandere Soundwave x human reader?

Thank for reading this (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง✨

Sorry if it doesn't have that much yandere as you were hoping for.

Okay, so, the only way I can see that you could've gotten his attention is either you're related to one of the three human charges – family or friend. Because of that, you don't know about the Autobots and Decepticons.

Soundwave was given the mission to find out more about the human pets, through humans that are close to them. Out of all of their family and friends, he chose you.

He only went through some of your info, and you're a friend of Miko's host parents that lives in a state up north, in Gravity Falls, Oregon (Yes, I'm making a little crossover with GF, but TFP came out 2 years before Gravity Falls existed, so Weirdmageddon hasn't happened yet, nor have the Pine Twins visited yet.)

You've met Miko a few times when you've came to visit, and it's best to say you don't like how loud, irresponsible, foolish, and doesn't understand people's boundaries. You were a rather quiet introverted person, and she was an overbearing extrovert, so you two didn't mix well.

When it was Christmas last year, they were at your family gathering, and she almost got your cousins hurt with firecrackers, who were mainly toddlers and young children. She even said, quote-unquote, that "They needed to live a little and not have helicopter parents deciding everything for them." The thing was that your aunts and uncles weren't helicopter parents, they were normal, calm, and understanding parents!

Miko was one of the main reasons why you lost faith in humanity, and you despised her with a burning passion. You even told this to her in her face, but she would say that you're just grumpy and should take a nap. As if you were a little child that didn't know better!

You work as an online artist that takes request for people who can't draw certain things like, animals, details, DND characters, Oc's etc.

As time went on, he was starting to get obsessed with learning more about you, and he knows more about you than anyone else you know in your life. Your favorite animal are birds, your favorite color is d/s/f/c (Dark Shade of Favorite Color), you hate people, don't like talking, have a pet European Starling named Jermey, after the crow in the Secret of Nimh because of his love for shiny and sparkly things, who is also the model for your watermarks on your designs, you like dying your hair, and so much more.

You were having a normal day, doing a live stream as you were taking requests from your viewers, when this one person in particular to do a city made out of metal, the people are robots that can transform, and even gave you an image that they "made" that was called Kaon. Interested, you took up this challenge.

It was safe to say that Soundwave wasn't disappointed with the end results of it; It looked magnificent. The image of his home was nostalgic of the good old days of Cybertron, when it wasn't just him and Laserbeak, when all of his children minicons were still alive.

The two of you kept in contact and became friends on the internet. You would tell each other about how your days went; you were told that he works as one of the higher ups in a company, has to deal with an annoying, loud, arrogant assistant of his boss – reminds you of a certain someone –, has a pet bird, is introverted, doesn't talk, doesn't like humanity- you're already hooked.

You turned a blind eye to things, like how he somehow knows where you live, find out about private accounts on social media, knows that you're talking to someone even when there's barely any people around, kind of seeming jealous/overprotective over text. The hardest one to do is when someone insults or steals your art, only to end up severely or lightly wounded somewhere between the next day to the end of the week, saying that a robot version of Slenderman or a metal bird that has an origami themed shape, etc.

There were a few things that caught your attention. How he uses the wrong terminology for things such as units time, parts of the body, even saying organics, fleshies, humans instead of people or others by their names. You were suspicious but brushed it off every time it happens.

At the beginning of Soundwave's his sire growing obsession, Laserbeak didn't even understand what was so great about you. But it changed when he was shot down by Autobots and landed out in the woods, you found him, and repaired him. During his stay, he made friends with Jeremy, and during repairs, you were gentle as you could be when fixing him up, your touched were light, you asked if what you were doing was alright, and he honestly thought of those human films where the mother would help their child when they get an injury. In this situation, he was your the child, and you were his the mother; he understood now.

Knowing Laserbeak's existence was the reason why it was a little hard to turn a blind eye to those that were injured.

When Laserbeak returned, he gave the information to Soundwave, and that's when Soundwave knew that you were the one to complete the family.

When the both of you actually met face-to-face is when you texted him that an ex of yours came back is so persistent on getting back together and won't leave you alone. When it was night, your ex cornered you, and was ranting on and on about how you should be grateful that he's giving you a second chance, even though you were the one to break up with him, only to end up dead on the pavement. You looked up to see Soundwave himself.

The first thought that came to mind didn't revolve around fear. No! It was 'Oh, god, he looks hot-'

So, you were taken aboard the Nemesis, you became a part of the Con Crew. 1.) Because you're close, in a way, to one of the Autobot's human pets; 2.) You hated humans just as much as they did; 3.) It's Soundwave. Megatron trusts him with any decision of his. A reason Soundwave gave, in public? A human to spy on the Autobots- Shut the fuck up random Vehicon, this is a human spy, not Makeshift. This isn't like Starscream's plan.

This happened only a day after Optimus Prime became Orion Pax. Soundwave had a feeling that something might happen, so he had you wear something that will cover up everything, mainly your head/face. He knows the archivist is smart, and if he were to revert back to Optimus, then he would recognize who you are.

Often times, some Vehicons would make comments about a human joining the ranks, or try to get rid of you, and they were met with an electric end.

It was only about a week later, after Orion became Optimus again, when they decided how they were going to get you in their base, and with the help of the newly arrived Dreadwing, they can do just that.

Part 2 coming soon...

So, basically this was a yandere x willing reader. I just hope you're satisfied.

[another-supernova-girl]

An Exercise in Control - Cooper Adams/Abbott x F. OC

* Part 1 : The Beginning of the End *

This story is *VERY LOOSELY* based on some of my own personal experiences, not with a serial killer, but with a security guard at a place I worked at, who paid way more attention to me than he should have at the time - something I wouldn't really come to comprehend until many years later. This story will feature explicit sexual content in some future chapters (I'm currently aiming for 5-6 chapters total), all of which should basically be considered dubious consent (let's be honest, that's about the only consent there really could be, given the power dynamic issues). There will be no DDLG kink, breeding kink, degradation kink, or...some other kinks popular with this character's fandom that is prominent in other fics. Other writers are thoroughly filling that niche. It's more of a...love bombing-ish situation, with plenty of manipulation for the aim of control. ( gif is mine, watermarked because I witnessed one of my gifs being stolen recently )

(( word count ~ 4,600 ))

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

There had been no answer when Cooper had called out and rattled the metal shutters to the bookstore within the mall he patrolled, but the faint sound of lofi and very soft human speech clearly indicated an occupant. When he called out once more, received no response once again, he reached for his ring of keys and went to work opening the aluminum gating. It was almost one in the morning, and even the cleaning crew had gone home. There should not have been a soul in the building save for the assigned security guard, and Cooper just happened to be the man tasked with that assignment.

After the concert in Pennsylvania, the confrontation, and his subsequent escape from the incompetent police department, the Butcher had gone on the run, inadvertently aided by the media's purposeful downplaying of his escape that would have shamed all law enforcement involved. Cowards, the way Cooper saw them, but convenient cowards. In the months that followed, he had moved around quite a bit, never settling anywhere for too long, utilizing a slew of motel rooms and stolen identities. When he finally felt like he'd reached a destination he could call permanent, he'd gone in search of work and found himself right at home in the convenience of mall security. The idea had seemed laughable at first as he'd scanned the wanted ads in a local paper, weeks after chopping up one of the previously employed night guards, but the more he'd contemplated it, the more perfect of a fit it seemed to be. That had been about a month ago, and now he found himself in one of the stores, hours after closing, not as alone as he should be.

Officially armed with a flash light and a baton, unofficially armed with a taser and chloroform, Cooper proceeded through the store, quiet and alert, glancing in all directions as he moved toward the back corner of the store, the source of the soft music, and the the faint glow of an electronic device. Expecting to find some stoned teens or a homeless person, Cooper instead stumbled upon a store employee, ambient synthwave streaming from the speakers of her laptop as she typed away. Apparently, she was so engrossed in her after-hours work that she failed to notice him until he switched on his flashlight and shone it against the wall in front of her, and all around her. She nearly fell out of the store chair that cradled her body when she finally took notice of him.

“Who the f-...oh, thank god, security,” she breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed his uniform, her vision not yet reaching the stern look across his face.

“Mall's closed,” he stated simply, switching off his flashlight and sliding it back into the assigned holster.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I, uh...the other security guard just lets me hang after hours,” she explained, closing her computer and sliding it into her bag.

“That's probably why he got fired,” Cooper commented harshly in return. Well, fired in the literal since, as Cooper had burned his body to reduce the evidence. He was far less bold in his disposal of victims' remains, since his temporary capture. The bookstore worker paused at his statement. She hadn't seen the other guard in weeks, and had assumed he'd simply quit. If she were really the cause...she felt a twinge of guilt at the idea.

“I'm sorry, I hadn't heard that. I...I'll get my stuff. It won't happen again,” she assured, keeping her focus on her belongings she gathered, making sure to pick up her accumulated garbage from her food court-sourced dinner so she could dump it in the trash. Cooper nodded, but said nothing, as he watched her move about, and followed her as they trudged back out of the store, the door coming down in a noisy crash at the insistence of Cooper's harsh yank. It felt excessive to the bookstore employee, but she said nothing. If she'd already gotten someone fired for bending the rules, she certainly didn't want to end up on the bad side of his replacement. The store didn't exactly pay well, but she couldn't afford to lose the income.

“Um...sorry, again,” she mumbled as Cooper walked a few steps behind her, seeing that she got to an exit so he could re-lock the doors. The Butcher shifted his gaze from the empty corridor stretched out before him, to the young woman a few steps ahead of him. Already nearly a foot shorter than himself, she seemed even smaller with her shoulders hunched and her arms meeting at her clasped hands before her.

“It's...it's fine,” he finally uttered, and her head seemed to tilt briefly toward his voice, before focusing on her destination again. “I need this job. I can't afford write-ups, already.”

“Right...s-” she began to apologize again, but her words were cut short by the light contact of his fingertips upon her shoulder, and her feet slowed to a stop as she turned around to look back at him, confused at his odd touch.

“Stop apologizing. I get it. You're sorry,” his voice was firm, but less harsh than it had been in the bookstore. “Let's just...make it a habit of being out by midnight, alright?” he offered, his thick, dark brows raising as if to punctuate his request.

“S-...sure,” she managed, and no more words were exchanged between the two strangers the last hundred-ish feet to the exit nearest her automobile. She paused at the door, but said nothing, as Cooper unlocked it and held it open, watching her exit. She glanced back at him briefly, before heading for her car, Cooper's dark eyes focused on the lock as he re-secured the exit. His gaze rose to watch her walk alone, along the empty parking lot, until she reached a car he reckoned was hers, the guard not turning around to resume his patrol until her lights were on, and her vehicle set into motion.

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A few evenings had passed since the incident at the bookstore, Cooper's night off falling the day after, a different shift the day after that, and he was back to night duty. He didn't mind it. He enjoyed the silence. During the day shifts, his gaze would wander, taking in the multitude of mall patrons, contemplating his next kill, but the evenings were peaceful. More time to think. More time to plan without distractions.

It had also been a few nights since he'd stopped by the bookstore, and though he'd avoided it for the bulk of regular operating hours, his feet did eventually guide him in the shop's direction, and he found himself standing against the wall across from it, staring in through the door-less entry. His eyes followed the movements and actions of a slightly familiar figure inside, Cooper watching as the young woman he'd escorted out a few nights before flitted around the store, assisting what few customers stepped inside, straightening books, re-homing the tomes that wound up in the wrong locations. Cooper had watched for a full fifteen minutes, almost unflinching, before she looked up from her work long enough to notice him, and she made no secret of it when she did.

“Hey!,” she waved him down, completely unnecessarily, as she crossed the short distance through the store and out into the corridor to greet the security guard. “Hi, I just wanted to apologize again for the other night, I don't usually-”

“Ah, no need,” Cooper raised a hand as if to put a barrier between the two of them. “It's these late nights, you know? I'm not used to the overnight shift and I was just...” he shrugged his shoulders, and put on a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I was just...kinda grumpy” he suggested.

“I get that, but, um...I mean, I really don't usually hang around that long-”

“Really, it's fine,” he reiterated, the false smile still in place. “Hey, I'm Cooper. I didn't catch your name,” he offered his hand, and she hesitated only for a couple of seconds before accepting it, a half smile forming on her lips that was far more sincere than his.

“Delilah. It's, um...nice to meet you, Cooper,” she shook the hand he'd offered lightly before withdrawing her own again. “Hey, um...did I really get the other guard fired? I feel terrible-”

“Oh, no, he, uh...” Cooper began, his mind searching, quick as lightning, for a reasonable lie. “He didn't show up to work a couple of days in a row, and no one heard from him, so he got let go...apparently,” he quickly tossed in.

Delilah's brows knit together as she contemplated his words. “Well, I'm glad it wasn't me...I hope he's okay. I don't think he had much family,” she thought aloud.

Cooper considered her briefly before speaking again, “Did you know him?”

“I mean, not well, but...about as much as anyone around here who works the night shift, and...doesn't keep their face buried in their phones,” she shrugged.

“Well, I'm sure he'll turn out to be...just fine,” Cooper lied, his umber eyes fixed on her forest green ones.

“Yeah, I...I hope so,” she nodded, her gaze transfixed by the strange intensity of his stare, as if he were waiting to see if she believed him. “Well...I gotta get back before we lose another customer to Amazon. It was nice to meet you, again,” she explained as her eyes finally glanced back to the store, and the annoyed-looking customer inside. When she looked back again, just inside the entrance below the giant letters that spelled out PAGE TURNERS, he had vanished.

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Days turned to weeks as Cooper acclimated to his position as the primary evening security officer, scoping out all the stores, and the dark hallways that led to back rooms, every inch of the oversized shopping destination. He was attentive to his duties, though less than invested on a personal level. His job was nothing but a cover, and a convenient location for his executions, in the basement levels that most were either unaware of, or considered abandoned. He'd stored away plenty of money over the years in a dozen locations in case he were ever discovered and had to run, and his home was far more comfortable than any normal security guard could truly hope for. Unfulfilling as his duties were, however, his employ did lend him opportunities to gain trust within the micro-community of this retail mega-facility, meeting various store employees, making nice with managers, cleaning crew...book sellers.

Nearly every evening that they shared a coinciding schedule, Cooper found an excuse to at least pass by the Page Turners book store on the top floor, a shop that he silently questioned the need for in the age of giant online sellers that an independent bookseller could not complete with the prices of. Business appeared fairly slow to him, but the main evening employee he'd began having brief, friendly interactions with, seemed to always find something to do. He usually had to clear his throat just to gain her attention when he'd enter the store, but she always seemed pleased to see him.

“You always manage to look busy,” Cooper commented from just beyond the threshold between the store interior and the walkway, and he watched her shoulders jump slightly in surprise, before she turned in the direction of his voice from where she crouched beside a bookcase on the floor.

“And you always manage to make me jump,” she answered, though nothing else about her demeanor suggested that his presence bothered her. “I'll have you know that I've had a whopping...three? No, four groups of customers, tonight,” she declared, rising up to full height, nearly a foot shorter than the security guard, and dusting her polyester slacks off.

“That many?” Cooper asked, his eyes following her form as she abandoned the half-stocked box of tween novellas to circle around to the employee side of the register desk. “I guess it's only Tuesday, though.” Delilah shrugged as she slid her phone into a compartment out of sight, the need for distraction lessened by Cooper's companionship. “Do you ever manage to get a night off?” he asked suddenly, and her eyes that had already been trained on his features lit up with surprise at the inquiry.

“Um...well, yeah, of course. I just, uh...I'm the only non-manager who actually volunteers for the night shift, so my schedule is pretty predictable,” she explained, and he nodded, leaning his weight into his hands that gripped at the side of the register table opposite her.

“Night owl?” he suggested, and she shrugged, her expression unaltered, though her gaze diverted from his, as it often did when his proximity to her increased.

“I guess...it's more like, most of the other employees are teenagers, and they don't want to waste their summer vacation working the night shift,” she concluded. Honestly, they didn't do much of anything while they were there to begin with, but someone had to mind the store.

“Yeah, I've noticed it's mostly teenagers. I guess they probably make for the best customers, too,” he continued, adjusting his weight so it fell against his crossed arms on the recently wiped-down surface. “How old are you, anyway? I mean, if it's okay to ask,” he questioned suddenly, and she finally looked back up at him again, surprised.

“Um...thirty one,” she answered, brows furrowing as she watched him curiously.

Cooper's face displayed a look of surprise, as he pushed off, raising back to his full, towering height. “Really? I wouldn't have guess that.”

“What would you have guessed?” Delilah asked, her arms crossing in subconscious defense.

“I don't know. Maybe...twenty six? Twenty seven?” His answer was honest, and her demeanor seemed to visibly soften. “How's that possible?”

“I, uh...well, I don't drink, or smoke, or use drugs, or...spend much time in the sun,” she explained, waving a hand in the direction of the hall way, and the enormous overhead skylights that naturally brightened the walkways during the day.

“I imagine you must burn pretty easy,” he mentioned, his body maneuvering around the corner of the register table, reaching out to fondle a few strands of her auburn hair that fell past her shoulders, his vision trained on her, even as passersby glanced in to perceive the two of them.

“Yeah, I, uh...I try not to put myself in that position, anymore,” she mumbled, her gaze focused on his large hand as it abandoned her as quickly as it had reached out. “I don't wanna get burned.”

Cooper nodded but remained silent for several seconds, watching the confusion and anxiousness present itself on her features. Eventually, when it seemed she might excuse herself, he finally spoke up again. “So, how old do I look?”

“I...it must be a really slow night for you, too,” she commented, glancing briefly to the corridor for possible customers, the mall mostly dead, typical for a weeknight.

“Come on,” he encouraged, dark eyes ever watchful, clocking the mild discomfort across her features and ignoring it. “You're not gonna hurt my feelings.”

“Um...” she paused in her tiny steps backward, Cooper standing quite still, and finally took the opportunity to really look him over, something she'd done many times, but never so closely and obviously. “I'm really bad at this,” she mumbled, but he shook his head, a non-deranged smile in place. “Maybe...forty...four?” she hedged, and his expression told her that she at least had not insulted him.

“Forty six,” he corrected, and Delilah nodded, and shrugged. She wasn't quite sure why he cared about either of their ages, figured he must be desperate to run down the clock before his next round of surveillance was scheduled. “Pretty close. Maybe I need to start taking better care of my skin,” he thought aloud, rubbing absently at the short whiskers that cast a dark shadow over his chin. “Not so long ago, I was getting mistaken for...thirties,” he threw out the words in a casual tone, but the look Delilah immediately gave him – brows quirked, and a strange smile that seemed to silently say 'Yeah, right!' - gave him a tiny moment of pause, followed by a simple, “Ouch!”

“Sorry! I just...I mean, I don't know why you would want to confused for thirties,” she shrugged, suddenly a bit more at ease from the renewed levity of his company. “Like, have you met men in their thirties? They're barely men. They act like they're in their twenties, and guys in their twenties act like they're still in high school...”

“So...you're saying that forties is better?” Cooper prodded, and before he could take a step closer, the chatter of mall patrons suddenly reached their ears, and said patrons' feet led them into the bookstore before Cooper could take their conversation any further.

“Don't you have something to secure,” Delilah mumbled, a grin she couldn't defy pulling at her lips as Cooper maneuvered behind her.

“I'm just gonna go do some 'older guy' stuff,” he whispered in return, his large hand passing over the small of her back as he slipped by.

“Go secure something,” she called back as he disappeared out the door, her face flushed, smile still firmly in place. He'd never exactly struck her as insecure in their correspondence so far. As far as she was concerned, it didn't matter how old he actually was when he looked like that.

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“So...movie theater...other movie theater...call center, office job...bookseller at a dying mall?” Cooper rattled off the jobs she'd detailed, counting them on his fingers, watching her nod along as she dusted the countless shelves of books. “How does that happen?”

“Well,” she began, pulling out an incorrectly placed book and sliding it toward the direction of its proper location. “The theaters paid awful wages, but I still lived with my mother, so I didn't need much. Quit the first one, got fired from the second one.”

“How do-”

“Nepotism. I pointed out some nepotism to the wrong co-worker, and it turned out they had a bigger mouth than I thought. And after that...a year at a call center that made me never want to talk on the phone again...and nine soul-sucking years at the office.”

“And then you ended up here,” Cooper concluded aloud, and she nodded, moving on to the next set of shelves. “Was it worth it?” he asked, and she shifted to look back over to the security guard whose body leaned against the sturdy register desk. “I mean, I can't imagine the pay is any better than where you were at.”

“It's not,” she admitted, her voice a little softer. She didn't like being reminded of her financial problems, wondering about the choices she'd made in her life to lead her here. “It's less money, for sure, but...a different company bought us out, and our jobs got more difficult, and our work loads doubled...and the raises turned into a joke. I hated it. I made enough to live on my own, but only barely, and...” Delilah's words dropped away, her fingers stilling over the spines of the books she had been correcting the placement of. Cooper simply stood in silence, taking in every ounce of information she spilled. “And what about you?” she suddenly questioned, an attempt to deflect some attention.

“Me?” Cooper asked, his brows raising. “Well, there's not much to tell,” he answered. It wasn't wise to give away too much, even his own trained lies. His resume had been full of falsehoods, but the hiring manager had been so desperate to bring someone on with the sudden disappearance of the guard Cooper had annihilated, that he hadn't even checked up on his references. A clean background check and some forged documents of training had been enough to secure the position Cooper now found himself in. “I've mostly worked...I guess you'd call them positions of authority.” Hadn't that been what the FBI profile had said? Surely, that was vague enough.

“And you never, um...” Cooper observed as the bookseller tapped her empty ring finger on her left hand.

“I, uh...I'm divorced,” he lied, though in fairness, he was certain Rachel would have divorced him, had the authorities actually managed to keep him in custody beyond the Prisoner Transport vehicle. “I don't really like talking about that part of my life.”

“You don't really like talking about yourself at all,” she observed, and Cooper couldn't exactly argue. Obviously, there was very little of his life he could safely share, as his interactions with the FBI and Philadelphia police had been far too close for comfort.

“Maybe I just find you fascinating,” he hedged, and received a sigh and an eye roll, but she ceased her questions, all the same.

🔪

It was another late night, later than usual for Cooper to find Delilah's dented-up car in the mall parking lot, so late that he cut his outside patrol short to re-enter the enormous structure. Ever since their first meeting, when he had acted so harshly toward her, before he had selected her as the subject of his strange experiment, she had actually made efforts to be out of the mall before midnight. Though there were nights that she didn't quite make their agreed-upon curfew, he had never witnessed her in the building so late that it almost classified as early. By the time he'd completed the trek to the metal gates outside of Page Turners' store front, it was just after 3am.

Cooper called out her name, called again louder, but received no answer. He didn't even hear the typical wave of soft music that usually emanated from the store when she stuck around after-hours. Giving the metal barrier a loud shake and still hearing nothing beyond it that indicated life, he reached to his large ring of keys and let himself inside.

He wasn't sure what it was that drove him. It felt like something almost comparable to concern, but he was certain that wasn't it. She was just an experiment, a little toy to manipulate and eventually play with. Replaceable. So why was he relieved when he found her at the back of the store that he trudged through, not ignoring him at all, not consciously anyway?

“Delilah,” Cooper spoke just above a whisper after he carefully tugged the headphones she wore away from her ears, watching her stir, barely aware of his presence. He received a tiny 'Hmm?' in response, but nothing else, her eyes still closed. Crouching down next to the well-worn bean bag chair she snoozed in, he pushed some stray strands of hair away from her ear, and leaned in closer, his voice a bit louder as he spoke her name again.

“It's too early,” she mumbled, closed eyes scrunching tight with annoyance as she shifted in the nearly-shapeless seat.

“Or too late,” Cooper answered, and finally recognizing his voice, Delilah managed to open her eyes long enough to look over her shoulder, toward him.

“Cooper?” she asked, her tone and the expression on her face full of confusion. “What are you...what time is it?”

“Way past midnight,” he answered, dragging out his phone when she failed to locate her own, showing her the time, watching her eyes widen with realization.

“Oh my g-...shit!” she exclaimed, scrambling out of the so-called chair and unsteadily to her feet. “I am so sorry. I can't believe I actually fell asleep,” she continued, searching for her belongings to gather in her messenger bag.

“I can,” Cooper responded, and she gave him a confused look before returning her attention to her bag to make sure she had everything. “I can believe that you fell asleep, I mean,” he clarified. “Delilah...is there a reason you don't want to go home?”

“What?” she asked, finally standing up to full height again, grasping her purse, and the bag big enough to hold her laptop.

“That's why you stay so late, isn't it? You stay at the store for hours after it closes, after you've clocked out. You volunteer to work these late shifts, when most people are off work, and at home. No one likes the night shift that much,” Cooper concluded, his dark eyes focused on the young woman before him, who had noticeably stopped fidgeting. “Boyfriend?”

That single word prompted a look akin to the one she'd given him the night he'd suggested he could pass for a man in his thirties. “Do you really think I'd spend so much time around you if I...no, there's no boyfriend. It's, uh...it's my roommate...and her boyfriend, usually.”

Cooper registered all of her words, but chose not to comment on the first half. He'd tuck that away for later. “Continue,” he invited, simply, not too firmly.

“She just...I kinda hate her,” Delilah admitted, letting out a sigh of defeat. She did her best to not mix her time around Cooper in with her home life, but he was frustratingly perceptive. She watched as the security guard lowered himself to the vacuumed floor and reached his hand out in her direction, encouraging her to join him. She plopped down far less gracefully. “We didn't even really know each other when I moved in. She was looking for a roommate to split the bills with, and I was month-to-month at my apartment, and running out of what passed for my savings from my old job, and...it seemed like a good match at the time.”

“So, what changed?” he questioned, hesitating for a few moments, before reaching out his hand again and taking hers carefully in his grasp. She stared at it for a noticeable length of time before her words resumed.

“Well...she ended up getting this boyfriend, and at first it was nice, because they were almost always at his place. Then, they started fighting, like...all the time. And when they weren't fighting, they were fucking so loud, the neighbors would bang on the walls, and...”

“And that's when you started staying here so late?” he offered, and she shrugged.

“Yeah...I started looking for freelance stuff online to make more money so I could move out on my own again, but...everything just keeps getting so much more expensive. I just...I feel so stuck. And up here,” her words paused for a moment, and she indicated with her free hand her general surroundings, “it's about the only peace I get that doesn't involve earplugs.” She gave a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes, focused on an invisible spot on the floor. When silence overtook the room, it became harder to ignore his large hand that still encompassed hers, and she finally took in a deep breath, letting it out in a slightly dramatic sigh. “So...now that you know my sob story...any words of wisdom?”

Her gaze finally lifted to Cooper's umber eyes that had not left her own green ones since she'd began to speak, but she found his expression unreadable. “Well?” she asked again.

“I'm not sure I have much wisdom to impart,” Cooper admitted, “and it's probably selfish, but...I kind of like having you up here, alone...all to myself.”

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CHAPTER 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE!

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tagging as requested : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @rainingrabbits89-blog , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica @the-butchers-baby

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. I KNOW THIS IS A BIT DIFFERENT THAN MOST OF THE OTHER COOPER STORIES BEING WRITTEN, BUT I HOPE IT APPEALS TO SOMEONE BESIDES MYSELF 💙

[lelelego]

⭐I'M OPEN FOR COMMISSIONS!⭐

✅ will draw: fanart, ocs (love d&d comms!!), nudity, light gore, suggestive/light n-s-f-w

⛔ will not draw: heavy gore and n-s-f-w, mecha, boone/oc content (sorry!!)

note: detailed backgrounds and/or designs may cost extra.

check out my commission request checklist below the cut 👇

CHECKLIST

email me at lego.cheong (at) gmail.com. say hi, say hey, and include "commission" in your subject line, please! OR simply dm me if you need to ask something real quick - but full requests with references, descriptions etc. should be exchanged via email. c:

include:

what type of commission you'd like - b&w/colour, waist up/full body, how many characters

references of the character(s) - if you don't have an image of them drawn out in their entirety, please provide picture references of all their parts (hair, face, clothes, etc.). if you also have a pose reference, i'd love to see it!

what you want to see - what pose do you want your character(s) to be in? what expressions? what is the vibe you want conveyed? is there something you want to focus on in particular (e.g. a character's ring, a scar, a limb, etc.)

are you okay with your commission being public? - you will get a higher-res, un-watermarked version of your commission. i do sometimes put lower-res, watermarked versions of my commissions up in my art tag / portfolio, so please let me know if you would like it to be a private commission.

you'll receive a reply within 2-3 days, at which point we can talk a little bit more about your commission if needed!

full payment will be required upfront through a Paypal invoice only. the invoice will be sent to the email you used unless specified otherwise.

thank you so much for reading, and hope to see you in my emails soon! <3

[ave661]

Hi! I’ve got to say I absolutely adore your art it’s impeccable and always leaves me either blushing or crying (I’ve seen the somewhat sadder or dad!character renders you’ve made and I did cry for no reason but I love them either way)

Anyway, I did read your pinned post but I’m not sure if this falls in your ‘okay’ category. Are you comfortable with us using the newer renders that have “Do Not Repost” on them? I use the old ones but lately it’s seems disrespectful if I do use the new ones because I’m not sure you are okay with me using those. Is it alright if I do use the new ones? Obviously I’ll give you credit, as always, but I want your permission first before I do so.

I hope this makes sense. Anyway, have a great day/night!😊

I've been thinking about changing the pinned post for about a month now and I've been postponing the answer to this question for a while to think it over and I came to the conclusion that I don't want my renders to be reposted in any way. Not only new ones, but also older.

If I could go back in time, I would add a huge "do not repost" watermarks from the very beggining on every render. Back then I didn't know how much some of them would blow up and who would use them in what way. I've never been in a fandom as a creator, so I learn something new with every mistake. Maybe I'm too trusting and for a long time I didn't expect that some people would sell fanart they found on the internet. People trace, sell, use without credits, remove my watermarks, edit with AI. Every new info about someone trying to sell them makes me want to give up and I really, really, really don't want that to happen. It's annoying to waste hours reporting thieves. That's why I started adding bigger and uglier watermarks and also posting less renders here and X. However, I'm still very active on Instagram and TikTok because the download option is disabled there which makes me feel more comfortable. I also post stuff on Patreon.

I love seeing my renders used in creative ways and inspiring you to do something, unfortunately every now and then I see them being used in… not so nice ways. Like adding a sw@stik@ to my Konig render, using my Dad series for pedo fics/bots or nsfw stuff that sometimes makes me a bit uncomfortable. But when I read comments that some people thought I MADE THEM because of the watermarks on them, it makes me… ughhhhh.

It really hurts me to say "no" when many of you are respectful, nice and give me credits, but there are also people who don't care and just want to use them for their own profits, not caring that someone spent long time on them.

There's also the problem with Pinterest. Even though I've never posted anything there, I've noticed that sometimes I see my art with all the info and links to my Tumblr blog. Honestly, I don't know how it works, but I don't want anything of mine there. Every time I see them, I report, but like I said, it wastes time that I could be using to create new stuff. So when someone reposts my renders here, it increases the chances of them getting on Pinterest = more stealing in the future.

Sorry I changed my mind on this, but when I saw HT recently selling my Ghost meme on their t-shirts, and then heard that the company that designed it apparently got approval from act!v!s!0n themselves, I was speechless. I guess "I thought they were official" has reached a new level.

[factual-fantasy]

28 asks! Thank you very much!! :}} ✉️

(Referencing this post)

I was thinking that the world of welcome home and the human world both exist, but they aren't connected by a TV show. :0 The puppet world is very real to them and they are real living people. The thing is is that there's no TV show of welcome home, that's just their lives-

Eddie is from our world/the human world. Which is where his hallucinations of having 5 fingers and human skin comes from-

@candyglumboy (Referencing this post)

Midori is my Meowscarada! :0 He's friends with Grim and Sylvester :))

(Referencing this post)

XDD Just a playful NOM

@fawncr33k

Yes yes! I screenshot them :00 I then paste them into FireAlpaca and add the watermark :) 👍👍

@bellanova137 (Referencing this post)

Oh!- In my AU Eddie was one of the most recent neighbors :00 this was his first time at the yearly Christmas party because it was the first one he was around for! <XDD

Thinking he moved in sometime right after Christmas last year. Which gave him and Frank a good year to get to know each other and be on first name basis :0 Which is why Frank doesn't call him Mr. Dear in my comic! :)

(Of course present day is a few years after this comic--)

Oof, yeahhh that was a comic script that I went to edit but accidentally posted- 💀

Thank you for the name suggestions though! I still haven't decided on what it'll be <XDD

XDDDD Hurray!! (Sorry!!--) I hope you enjoy your stay in the fandom! :DD

Also thank you so much!!! :)) I'm so glad you've liked my artwork!! :DDD

It would be watching anyone that repaired it :00

There was actually an idea that back when Barnaby was going to be the second ever neighbor in the neighborhood.. he almost bought home and restored it himself. The reason why he didn't though is because Home was just too small for him. The front door was too short, he'd have to duck though every doorway and the ceilings were too low..

Why would he wanna spend all this time and money on fixing up an old house that's too small.. when he can just spend that money on buying whatever lot he wants and building a house that actually fits him? So that's what he went with..

But if Barnaby had bought home and fixed it up. it's be the same thing as Wally... weird insomnia, anxiety attacks.. feeling like you're being watched while you sleep... etc..

As for their world, I only really had the forest surrounding the neighborhood in mind. Its a HUGE forest that goes on for miles and miles. I haven't decided how far away Julies sisters/brother live but I should really work on them 💀

As for Home, so far Home is the only creature of its kind :0 none of the other houses are alive and it stands as the only strange entity around the neighborhood.

And when it comes to neighborly mysteries and secrets, so far Eddie being human and Julie's secret past is all i got <:///

Oh yeah for sure! My Barnaby is much more mellow than in canon it seems- in my AU he doesn't butt heads with Julie at all! :0 In fact she's a really good friend of his. She has some pretty flat jokes but Barnaby appreciates her attempts and they usually get a genuine laugh out of him XDD

As for Frank, its like a SpongeBob and Squidward situation. They just have different personalities and different senses of humor.. and that's okay! Barnaby likes to crack some stupid jokes to kind'a poke at Frank for the fun of it, but he never goes too far. And the jokes are never personal or insult his interests. They're just really dumb jokes that make Frank roll his eyes XDD

At the end of the day, Barnaby considers Frank to be his friend. And Frank would never admit it, but he sees Barnaby as his friend too :)

I had a very small brain moment and only realized just now that I cut out the askers name by accident 💀 my bad!

Also hey these names aren't too bad! <XDDD Abaolson sounds kind'a cool in my opinion! :00

Oh- well actually I'm only doing Pokémon from the Unova region with a handful of exceptions. So I don't have to worry about Gyarados, Milotic or Onix. At least for now :00 I might make an exception for Gyarados.. so when it comes to long snakey Pokémon I have Serperior and Eelektross to worry about..

As for Ninjask, I imagine I'll do something similar to what I did with Chandelure :00

@glitchhayden418

WHOMPST??

(In response to this post)

AAA YES YES! :DD A "I thought I lost you/I could have lost you" hug!! AAAA I'm so glad that translated well! :))

And actually- I began sketching out the comic 👀👀👀 although I got hung up on the battle scene and need to go back for some resketching 😅

(In response to this post)

Well of course! :D Angst isn't fun if there's no comfort 😌

@littlemisspostit

ESKJFOSIJFIOSJ HYUCKS??? THATS THE BEST THING EVER XDDD

Upon googling him, maybe I could! :0 Maybe he could be a friend of one of the neighbors that lives a few neighborhoods over?

@viennaarttt (The post in question)

Ohhh I see! :0 That was a joke post mostly <XD But if it did happen I can see Barnaby hanging up and calling back to try to wake up Wally 💀

Awwe <:)) This was very sweet, thank you.. I'm getting a lot of comments saying that people liked my old Gravity Falls stuff. Its helping me feel a bit better about all of it <:)

I will probably keep those posts privated for my own comfort,, but now with no worry of people finding my old artwork,, it clears the way for potential NEW Gravity Falls artwork! :0 This time with better written angst <XDDD

@danman22ful

I've watched all of Markpliers videos on it! :D And I gotta say its.. well its something that's for sure! <:D Its refreshing to see a character with both parents living and in a loving relationship ngl- I feel like I never see that nowadays <XD

I searched around for a bit and couldn't find much info on this actually <:0 I saw a Wally with red hair and a blond Frank..? Is this like an opposite personality's AU..?

@famouslysleepy

In my AU Frank and Eddie are just friends :0 mostly because I don't like writing romantic stuff for characters that aren't my own.. plus exploring platonic bonds is much more interesting to me :)

As for Eddie and Home, this comic shows a bit of Eddies problem with it- just like Wally he has the blood chilling feeling of being watched by something..

And even after the party, going near Wally's house makes Eddie feel uncomfortable and anxious.. its just all a matter of feeling you're being watched by something or someone..

XDD If I had a had a nickel for every time someone told me they were shocked to find out I'm in a fandom they love,, I'd be rich!

Also thank you!! :DD I'm glad you liked it! :DDD

aw <XD well this is bitter sweet to read since I've privated most of my Gravity Falls stuff.. but its nice to hear that you enjoyed it all <:) Thank you!

I use FireAlpaca, its in my FAQ in my pinned post! :0

I'm actually hearing bad things about it believe it or not- talks about Ford acting super out of character and what not.. My curiosity is peaked 👀

[rongzhi]

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be open to this suggestion, there are lots of douyins/tiktoks/ig reels (sorry) out there that have not been translated and are difficult to translate through Google/other online translate dictionaries. I was wondering if you would maybe be open to the idea of paid translation services to donate to Ghazzah gofundmes/charities? For example, we send you a video we would like you to translate along with money or proof of donation. I hope this doesn't come off as pushy.

Not pushy at all! This sounds like a good idea, and I do accept translation requests although in the past, I've really only done it if I felt like it. If the request was submitted with proof of donation, I would certainly be more motivated to translate a video.

If people are interested in this being an ongoing thing (keeping in mind that if there's high volume of requests, it will take time to get through everything and I'll probably largely be getting to requests during the weekend), I can come up with a post with submission guidelines this weekend.

I'm thinking that the requested video's length may be something I will tier so as to better guarantee that video is translated at some point... E.g, 0-60sec = $5 USD gfm donation; 61s-90s = $10 etc, with a cap of at least $50 for 5min, which would bring the video to the 500mb tumblr upload limit.

I will of course not be open to translating any offensive content such as racism/colorism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, ableism, etc... not that I think any followers would submit such things knowingly, but you never know,—literally, in the case that the video submitter doesn't know Chinese. I would probably be open to taking proof of donation to personal GFMs such as those I have posted about already, or from other charities like eSIM donations or other (feel free to suggest a few).

I would probably prefer douyins be requested so I can include the OP's watermark, although if it's a reposted IG reel (rather than crossposed), sometimes the original can be tracked down with keywords, too, so maybe that'll be acceptable as well...

[itsblasttothepast]

Do we have any info about Max and Checo before they were teammates? I remember Checo being one of the only people who was nice to Max when he joined F1. Do we have any idea about their dynamic back then? I’m super curious- thank you!

Not so much info, but those who were F1 followers like me remember many things from their dynamic since Max started in F1.

First of all, the whole 'letting a kid join the big leagues' thing. Not many teams/drivers were in agreement of Max, with only 17 years, joining F1, which led to the 'Verstappen rule', meaning: drivers could get their superlicense until they were 18 (Toto Wolff managed to change that this year so Kimi Antonelli could join Mercedes in 2025, but as an anon mentioned it, it was only so he could join pratices, as Kimi turns 18 in august).

So Max joining F1 was controversial, and to be honest, most of the old grid were kind of assholes, and also the reporters didn't help, as they kept asking if they would be 'mentors' or 'give Max advice', which most drivers said NO. They mostly ignored Max, seeing him like a kid (well, he was the youngest), but Alonso and Checo always said nice things, Checo was happy for him (he said this in many interviews, as Max was the hot topic back then) and he wished him the best. He was really nice to Max, and Max usually tended to join Checo and Nico's during the drivers parade or the paddock.

This could be also because Max's teammate in his Toro Rosso era was Carlos Sainz; Carlos and Checo were in friendly terms, as both were hispanic (they are not anymore though, such a shame), and that kind of made easier for Checo and Max to interact.

When Max was promoted to RBR and Carlos went to another team, Max and Checo mantained a nice relationship, even friendly. Something I kept noticing in several interviews around the paddock was that Max seemed to always look around for Checo (these are more my deluded impressions, but I've seen a few edits where I'm proven sort of right) and they kept laughing and having fun, so I'm pretty sure their dynamic was friendly and positive before they became teammates, and then they became boyfriends, divorced, took couple's counseling and now here we are!

I'm asking permission from a girl who makes the BEST edits in FB, so I can share them here, those will prove my point even more.

But until then, here I leave a few pictures to show how amazing their chemistry is:

Look, Maxie next to Checo, instead of his teammate! ⬆️

Here when Nico and Checo completed their 100 races, and celebrated, Maxie was next to Checo but Daniil Kvyat kind of got in the way.

Sorry if this one has watermarks, but I had to share it, look at their smiles! So adorable!

Like this one!

And I have many more, but I'm saving them for my ENOURMUS rant about Chestappen that an anon asked me like two weeks ago. Anon, I haven't forgotten, but I have so many rants, pictures and theories, that it's taking me a while.

[chilewithcarnage]

I, a very white and somewhat privileged person, am absolutely terrified to draw colored people. Because I don’t know if I’d cross the thin line of tasteful and authentic or racist and stereotypical…

Lol for starters don't refer to us as coloured people. This ain't 1955. Secondly my best advice to you is to use references of actual people of color. I would highly recommend staying away from those white men art station youtuber type artists for tutorials because they get a majority of their techniques and style from main stream video games and comic books, which to put it nicely don't have the best reputation for representing women and poc. tangent over, so yeah references. real life photographs of brown and black people.

pinterest is a site that a lot of current, especially younger artists like to use, but in all honesty it's not a very good source for someone trying to learn the fundamentals. it'll mainly show you 20 something year old ig and twitter models which is okay if you wanna just draw pretty people; but not the best if you wanna like I said learn fundamentals + have a portfolio that's varied. also it's rife with ai shit and stolen art, so yeah would only recommend that as an initial starting point/using it to make your own personal board for your saved images.

stock photo sites are my go to for refs. getty images, istock, alamy, etc. a simple right click save image or screenshot will work to get the images you want for free. of course there will be the watermarks, but they're honestly a very small issue to bypass. as long as they're not opaque and nearly covering the entire subject; you're good. a nice thing about stock photo sites is they usually give you the option to filter the image search results. say for instance you want to draw an elderly asian woman cooking or a young black man painting a picture or an indigenous child playing with dolls. you can look up certain terms you want in the search bar & specify gender, age and ethnicity to narrow down your search to what you want.

another awesome place for references i discovered during college is posespace.com

like with getty images, it gives you the option to filter your searches. they also have their models in clothed or nude shoots in the event that you want to practice some bare bones anatomy.

also also, get your info from artists of color. there's a decent amount of tutorials ive found over the years on here and youtube on coloring skintones, drawing certain hair types, how to avoid caricatures and stereotyping, different facial features, cultural hairstyles. the list goes on. don't be afraid to depict people outside of your race. literally just go about drawing us the same way you would a white person. don't be scared, as long as you remain respectful and make an honest effort to learn; you'll do fine.

resource links by and from artists of color:

'how i draw south + southeast asian people'

an example of what to avoid when stylizing east asian characters

'drawing asian people, source: i'm asian'

'lessons from drawing I: what is asian anyways?'

'how to draw indians'

'how to draw arabs'

'How I draw skin Part 2: DON”T DRAW NATIVE PEOPLE WITH RED SKIN!!!! A tutorial' (the link to the first part of this tutorial is broken sorry)

How to Draw Native People: a Tutorial/Reference Guide

How to Draw Black People by peachdeluxe

tips for drawing black people by rosheruu

drawing east asian faces by chuwenjie

how to draw black people series by Artistik Freedom (youtube)

✏️How I draw black hairstyles (simple) 🌱 by Likelihood Art (youtube)

there's also a bunch of black and brown artists on twitter and tiktok, so checking those sites for tutorials would be a good additional resource

good luck on your illustrating melanin endeavors 👍🏾

[prosperdemeter2]

WIP Wednesday

Not watermark this time but another AU that I am having WAY too much fun writing... I give you a glimpse of Retail Manager!Eddie and Fire Marshal!Buck. I'm actually really excited for this story to be finished, I have so much planned for it.

Eddie was going to commit arson.

Which probably wasn't the smartest thought to be having while the much too attractive Fire Marshall listed out every single thing the previous store manager had screwed him over on but…. But Eddie was going to commit arson. At this point, it would probably help the company out to just burn down the whole store, take the insurance payout, and start over from the ground up. Preferably while still keeping him employed but, well, beggers couldn't be choosers and all that. “Your score is horrible,” the guy said with a tone of voice that meant that he was at least mentally, laughing in Eddie’s face. “Like, seriously, I don't think I should even let you stay open for business with a score this low.”

“So shut us down.” Eddie grumbled, kicking his sneaker against the scuffed up, unfinished concrete floor in front of the management desk.

He had been there a week.

A week. And Eddie had already had to argue with several customers over the return policy because the previous manager - may she rest in absolute hell (no, she wasn't dead, she had just gone to another store down the road and Eddie hated her on principle) - had thought the sign explaining it was tacky and removed it from the registers (which was illegal. They had to be posted). He had already had three workers put in their notice, the assistant manager kept looking sorry for him and annoyed by his questions, and now this. The Fire Marshal's inspection.

Eddie had worked his share of retail jobs and none of them enjoyed when the Fire Marshal visited. Granted, none of his stores had failed as hard as this one was apparently going to, but he figured there was a first time for everything.

The Fire Marshal snorted, “I'm not shutting you down.”

Great. Of course he wasn't. He was just wasting Eddie's time by pretending to care about his job. “Listen -.”

“I get it,” the Marshal said, pen tapping on the clipboard he brought with himself. It had several stickers on the back. Eddie had spied one that had said ‘hello, I'm anxious and I'm trying my best’. It looked like Chris’ folder for school. “It's, what, your first week?”

Eddie tried not to twitch and, instead, crossed his arms firmly around his chest. “Yes.”

“We'll call this a test run. You see what I do this time around, I give you a… Progress report or whatever. I'll come back in a few weeks when you've had some time to settle in and fix stuff up. Give you your real grade then.”

“That's…” Nice. Unfairly kind, actually. Something Eddie really hadn't expected. Every Fire Marshal Eddie had ever had the honor of being inspected by had shown up in a stuffy suit and tie, their badge clipped to their front pocket, and the air of someone who was almost good enough to be a firefighter permiating their being. This guy had shown up without any grays in his hair, a stupidly kind looking professional smile, a crisp white shirt with a small stain on his sleeve and a dark navy tie. He had introduced himself with a quick, firm shake of Eddie’s hand and said hello to the cashiers. He had worn his badge on his belt loop, not his pocket, and he had waited until Eddie was done with a customer before asking go to his office. Eddie didn't have any reason to be being so cold towards him. He almost felt guilty about it.

“Here,” The paper ripped as he tore off Eddie’s copy, signed the bottom, and handed it to him.

A 23%?!

Eddie balked at the score, “Oh, come on, man.”

“You're lucky it's not worse.”

“How is this lucky? It's an F minus.”

“Your smoke detectors don't even work in half the store.”

“They work.”

“See that blinking red light?” The Marshal pointed to the smoke detector above Eddie’s head. It blinked mockingly at him. “Half your alarms aren't doing that.”

Okay, so that… was a problem. “You marked down,” Eddie glanced at the paper, the neat, blocky handwriting in all capital letters. “That our store is too dirty. We clean it every night!”

“Cleary, not well enough.”

Absurdly, Eddie was insulted on behalf of his dusters. “You're just being petty.”

The Marshal bristled, “No, I'm being thorough.” He clicked his pen and shoved it in the front pocket of his khakis, and like it was mocking him, the overhead light in his office flickered, threatening to turn off completely. “I'll be back in a few weeks. Get this stuff fixed, and I'll give you an actual grade.”

“Get this stuff fixed, and I'll give you an actual grade,” Eddie mocked when he had left, burying his face in his hands with a groan. “Fuck you, Fire Marshal…” he glanced at the papers, to the name written out in print first before signed much too neatly. “Buckley.”

@wildlife4life 😘

[adorkastock]

Question, what's your opinion on "person gets some of your stock photos where they'd have to pay to access it, and then that person passes the photo on to an artist, either a friend or someone they're getting commissioned artwork from, for that artist to use"? Mostly hypothetical.

There's a few layers here and I want to explain my feelings in general so I'm sorry this is a little long. 💖 Most of my paid content is advance access which means I plan to release most (if not eventually all) of it for free someday. When people pay me for packs they are saying, "Hey omg thanks I needed this and you're making it, here is some money to please keep doing that." When I had a kid in 2014 I sort of had to put pose ref work on the backburner. I have been able to keep doing it (and greatly expand my offerings!) mainly due to the financial support I gained in early 2020 when I went a little viral on Twitter. It's made a HUGE impact on my ability to be an independent creator both for pose ref and for art and I'm exceedingly grateful for that support. If people have paid to get some poses then those poses technically have the same license as all my other stuff (credit/notification required for reposting, not required for used as reference). So if they are sending it to another artist as a ref for a commission or just to share with a buddy and either my watermark is on it or they say "this is from AdorkaStock" then they aren't violating my usage terms. I know not everyone who wants to support me financially can do it. I know that sometimes artists are going to split the cost of packs and things like that. It's okay, I expect that. I know that people will come and go on Patreon as they can or can't afford it and that's cool too. I know people are gunna post paid poses when they are sharing WIPs or maybe streaming or whatever - that's all expected. I would obviously be super miffed if someone was taking chunks of my paid stuff and then reposting it for free publicly. Technically they'd be required to tell me about that and I'd definitely ask them to please not. ✌🏻😭 I appreciate every person who throws a few bucks my way every month through Patreon or through Ko-fi donations or shop sales. The money I make doing pose ref work has allowed me to keep doing this AND to make more art, which is basically just me living my happy little dream over here. 🥹 ---TL;DR--- I know people are gunna share paid poses with people who didn't pay and generally speaking that's okay just don't be a jerk about it by pulling out the very nice rug my supporters have woven under meeeee. ♥

[axolotlbottle]

Old Crowscare/INMIMB doodles

Ft. crowpaint (ryo x embry)

I think the first time they held hands, they were both screaming internally.

Old doodles I found in my binder that I had forgotten about LOL, idk how they got damaged by water, but they did xP. Oh, well. I TRUST that some of you will not repost these doodles without my permission (they're ugly anyways, so why would you?). A handful of people already used my old ryo x embry art without my permission, which is quite annoying (but expected, so I'm not mad!). Especially when I get comments complaining that my watermark is too big. What can you do though XD

Rune! My beloved! So sorry the paper I doodled you in got damaged. Even more sorry I didn't do you justice </3.

"Oh my little scarecrow..."

An even more water damaged doodle XP. I vaguely remember when I was doodling this, the audio "my baby, my baby... you're my baby" (from I bet on losing dogs by mitski) was playing in the background . The way Rune loves Ryo melts my heart. A parent who is willing to drown the world is darkness for their child is the type of love I wish I can give to my own children one day (if I ever have any of course, which I doubt I will so I guess my imaginary children will do XD).

They're huge comfort charas to me and I want to properly draw them in the future ^^. ♡ My head canon has always been that Rune reads "the wizard of oz" for Ryo, just because the scarecrow reminds Ryo of himself XD. I actually have alot more head canons for them but I don't think they'd be interesting to anyone + I need to write them down.

Either way, sorry for my absence. I apologize to my friends who I am yet to reply to, even more sorry for my friends/mutuals who I haven't finished my side of art trades for (rest assure, the art you see above is from a year ago, so please don't assume that I have randomly forgotten of what I owe you!). Thing's have been tough & extremely overwhelming, with college, being a caretaker + work, and ofc IRL stuff. I'll manage though. I hope all of you are doing well too! Take care -- Mav ☆