#idk I just put the pencil to the page

[pcktknife]

ill be like 'i need a new sketchbook' and for what i dont even draw like that no more 🧍🏾

[angstyvylene-i]

What the fuck is that next to your username what did you do

What? You don't have teeth? You don't have teeth like me? Like I do? My t?eeth. 😁? Teeth?

[julietsbody]

now lick it — academy ! coriolanus + reader : coriolanus was quick to take a liking to the capitol’s newest it girl, along with her leather prada kitten heels. 

tags : 18+!! MDNI virgin ! coryo, sub ! coryo ( yk i had to do it for my sub coryo bbs ), dom ! fem reader, shoe humping, i think coryo likes leather… or heels… not sure, coryo is just a bitchboy in this idk what else to say.. THIS IS NOT A FEET KINK FIC BTW 😭coriolanus is just obsessed w/ rich things and u happen to have designer heels… HEAVYYYYYYYY MOMMY KINK / ISSUES, degradation

a / n : do i know how to write dom ! fem.. no…. did i try… yes……

you’d known coriolanus snow for as long as you could remember, watched his trials and tribulations, watched him continuously come on top albeit being so low. he was poor, hardly had enough money to feed the two others he lived with, always eating those damned lima beans. and you? 

you were just perfect! you had everything and anything you could ever want, the most expensive five course meals, designer outfits, shoes made from only the best. those shoes… a sleek black leather with red painted on the bottom of the shoe, sling - back kitten heels. 

they were utterly captivating, the effort put into making them, the richness it oozes with every step you take as you strut down the hallways without a single worry in the world, paying no mind to the blonde staring you down. 

“he’s so fucking weird,” arachne comments as she walks alongside you, more likely to pay attention to the gazes of those around you. 

“who?” you snap your head to her, brows furrowing together ever so slightly, albeit not much. 

“that snow kid,” arachne glances back at him, and he’s still staring, as sejanus, his district best friend, yaps his ear off, “coriolanus.” 

“is that so?” you can’t help the way you smile, following her gaze back to him, a knowing smile curving your glossed lips as he awkwardly looks away, trying to look like he’s engaging in a conversation with sejanus now, despite the evident nervousness that reeks from him even across the room. 

from that day on, you soon began to realize coriolanus snow was not a phoenix rising from the ashes of his potential, but rather a cockroach that you couldn’t wait to squish. he had become insufferably obsessed with you, always asking your opinion on things, offering to do your homework, asking if you’d like to be his partner for projects, complimenting your hair, outfit, makeup— does he ever shut the fuck up? 

you never even considered taking up any of his offers, until it all got to be too much, and you decided it would be the only thing to finally quiet him down. you glare at him as he approaches you, “yes?” 

“would you like to—..” he pauses, nervously looking around, then shuffling his feet and looking back at you, “to.. be my partner on the project..?” 

he’s so shy, a roach caught in the manicured hands of a raven, claws pushing into it’s shell. he’s surprised when your eyes soften at him, “of course.” 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

so that’s how he’s here now, awkwardly sitting across from you, lashes fluttering at his page. he can feel the sensation of your burning gaze, it never left him from the second you opened your door to him, watching his eyes widen as he admires your house, the way his cheeks flush ever so slightly when you compliment his button up. 

it was a hand - me - down, you could tell. 

your jaw ticks ever so slightly, pencil tapping against the table, “coriolanus?” 

he immediately perks up, as if expecting you to speak, “yes..?” 

you smile sweetly at him, “come here.” 

come here, he’s immediately flustered, shifting in his seat, “what do you—“ 

“come here,” your voice is firmer now, making him gulp. 

and of course he listens, how could he not? ever so slowly standing up, trying to be slick as he ‘naturally’ drops his hands to cover his bulge, assuming you hadn’t seen it as he takes hesitant steps to you. your eyes glisten up at him, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, “why are you here, coriolanus?” 

he inhales sharply, “i don’t know what you’re talking about..” 

“you do,” you respond quickly, red nails trailing down his arm, all the way to his wrist, and yanking it away from his hardened cock. you immediately scoff at the sight, making him want to curl up in a ball and die right on spot, “did you just want to fuck me, snow?” 

“no..— no, no, nonono—“ he immediately pulls all the stops, raising his hands in a universal innocent pose, “i would never—“ 

“oh really?” your shoe moves to pass along his right ankle, feeling him shiver underneath your touch, “you know.. i would have never assumed a guy like you would be such a desperate little bitch.” 

to your surprise, he whimpers. it’s quiet, but loud enough for you to hear, loud enough for you to smile at, watching his cheeks heat up as your shoe trails up his shin. your eyes stay on his face, watching him struggle against his restraint, trying so hard to just not move your shoe to his crotch and hump on it himself.

he needed the expensiveness searing on his skin, to feel the richness stain onto him. 

he had to have it, he truly was so, so desperate. 

he had thought about this many times, humping against the corner of his desk in his room, imagining it’s the leather of your shoe, the chair you sit on, the desk you tap your nails on, the side of the bed that you sleep on. god, it was so dirty, imagining you sleeping in the bed, so peaceful, as he humps the side of it for dear life, biting on the delicate skin of his hand to mask his whimpers. 

his blonde curls fall in his vision as his head tips down to watch your heel as it moves up his thigh, then finally it pushes against his bulge. his knees immediately buckle, hips moving to lower himself against the heel as he tries to hump into it. you hold back your laugh, moving your foot away, “are you a fucking virgin?” 

he quickly moves to nod, “yes.. yes— please.. please..” 

you scoff at him, “please what?” 

“need it— so bad..” he whimpers out, pathetic. 

your molars press together, contemplating it for a second before your lips finally part, “take off your pants, and your boxers.” 

he swiftly follows your every request, tugging down his slacks and boxers, his huge, hardened cock springing out, tip red like he’s been hard for hours, precum beading off his slit. he was eight inches, at least, girthy as well, but not much compared to the length. how could a man so submissive and pathetic have such a huge cock?

you squint at his approval - seeking gaze, not giving him any of it as you hum, moving your shoe to move against his cock, admiring the way precum smears on the rich leather. he pulls his lips together for a second, “mm—.. mmph— feels so fuckin’ good..” 

you were seconds in, and it already seemed like his sanity was shattering, hips worthlessly bucking against your shoe, whimpering at any form of friction. his lashes flutter evidently at the feeling of the money spent on your shoes coating his cock, making him feel rich. 

now he’s everything he’s ever wanted to be, a rich man, doused in money, able to spend it on all the riches the world could offer. diamond encrusted watches, pearls extracted from pure oysters, real leather, rich satin, deep maroon. he envisions it all in his mind as he humps against your shoe, whimpering out nonsensical mumbles that you couldn’t even begin to decipher. 

“al—always.. wanted to do.. this— ah, ah..—“ he moans out, hand moving to clasp onto the table next to him. 

and suddenly, he starts groaning out a name you could never imagine being called. 

mommy. 

it comes so natural to him in this moment, and it makes heat ignite between your legs. you can’t help but play into it, “mommy, huh? gonna cum for mommy? yeah?” 

he desperately nods, gripping the table like it was his lifeline as his hips move faster against your heel, white beading at his stressed knuckles, “mm— mph.. mommy— please.. can i.. can i— can i can i…” 

your head tips up to meet his gaze again, “can you what?” 

“cum..—“ his nails dig into the expensive wood, garnished with a sleek gloss, tears nearly welling in his eyes from desperation, “..need to.. so s-so bad— please, mommy.. ‘ll be good— p-promise..” 

“you won’t tell anyone about this?” 

he shakes his head rapidly. 

“you will leave me alone?” 

“mm—..” his tip catches on to the leather of your shoe again, making his nose scrunch up, “mhmhmhm—“ 

“gonna be my good boy?” 

his lips fall apart, desperately trying to hold back his rushing orgasm for as long as you’re putting it off for but god— when you’re calling him good boy, he just can’t. his eyes meet yours, pupils completely blown out, “y-yes.. mommy.. pleaseplease—“ 

he just wanted your approval, just wanted you to appreciate the effort he is putting into you, for you to smile at him and say he did a good job. 

you put it off for another few seconds of silence, before finally tipping your chin to watch his dick slide against your shoe, “you can cum.” 

and good lord, he does. thick white spurts of cum drip onto the expensive leather of your shoe, his legs trembling from the awaited release, lips moving around incoherent words. he starts mumbling out thank you’s and you can’t help but chuckle at him, did he think it was over? 

you put on a faux pout, “you ruined my shoes.. can you clean them for me, coryo?” 

coriolanus, albeit his pathetic showcase seconds later, would never, ever get on his knees to lick anyone's shoe. it was humiliating, disturbing, concerning, even— wait. he’s on his knees. his tender skin pushes against the hardened floor as you lower the shoe to align with his mouth, and much to his own surprise, his lips part, tongue snaking out to provide kitten licks onto the shoe. 

his own cum is salty against his tongue, slimy and disgusting, but it also tastes like.. money. it tastes like your approval, like your love. his tongue starts to lap it up now like it was his last meal, fingers gripping the heal of your shoe to have a sturdier hold on cleaning it up. 

“good boy,” you eventually mumble out to him, watching his tongue slip under the underside of your shoe to really clean it up. god, didn’t he know you were walking in these all day? what a disgusting, freakish animal. 

well.. you did clean them after school, intending for them to be to this use. 

but he didn’t have to know that, now did he? 

he still licked it, even without knowing, and that is the best part. 

he immediately nods, licking his lips to make sure he didn’t miss any other cum. his eyes move up to meet yours again, “thank you..” 

“who?” 

“mommy.” 

that’s right. 

coriolanus snow was completely and utterly your bitch now. 

[dadsbongos]

CAN U PLSSSS WRITE A CUTE DENJI FIC OR HEADCANON/DRABBLE?? honestly idrc care which it is (obvi longer is preferred but i understand and am open to whatevs u give)

like about reader (fem) has a journal and in it she wrote about her dream dude, but like perfectly described denji and accidentally left it out and while they were hanging out or something cuz they besties he sees it and realized like "dude, that's me!" or something and then like a fluffy confession or something IDK that's just what i have sprinting through my brain rn 🤓

also maybe a lil kiss 🙏

thank you for giving me a denji idea... been fiending to write for him and just had 0 ideas

word count - 1.5 K / warnings - fem reader, not proofread!!, au where makima dies and denji just gets to be happy with special division 4 and they are familycore

~~~

“And the point of this is…?”

“I dunno,” Himeno answers honestly, shrugging, “I read somewhere that you can tell a lot about someone from their partner.”

“None of us are dating,” Aki huffs, fingers itching over the protrusion of his lighter in his pocket.

“Their preference in a partner,” Himeno groans in annoyance, gesturing out to the collection of papers in front of each of you, “Besides, what else do we have to do right now?”

Fair question, no matter how junky the science behind Himeno's apparent reading, not one of you had anything better to do. A storm was raging outside the Hayakawa apartment, all of Special Division Four having pooled there before the clouds even rolled in. Before Kobeni could shyly crawl out from the rambunctious crowd, there was lightning and thunder and an ear-piercing flood warning blasting on the television. 

So, Aki swallows the rest of his complaints and puts his head down with the rest of your division. His pencil sprawling over the paper Himeno slammed in front of him to describe his ideal significant other. A tedious task he's all too eager to bullshit through as soon as Himeno is finished staring down at him.

Denji is tapping the eraser of his pencil against the kitchen island, eyes straying around the living room. He worried his bottom lip between knifepoint teeth; only stopping when he tastes iron. Even Power has started writing.

Even you have begun writing. He wonders what you're writing. He wishes he could stretch his neck and take a peek without being obvious. He wishes he could read it at all.

Denji draws a stick figure that takes up a quarter of the page, dragging the lead back over the chest to add breasts. He glances at you through the side of his eye before adding hair and a small smile. And the black hair tie snug around your wrist even though he's only ever seen you lend it to Kobeni and Angel. Now he really can't avoid it: Denji has no idea how to write. 

Hopefully he can just coast with a bland drawing and let everybody think he's as shallow as they probably already believe. But when he lifts his head to glimpse at everyone else's pages, Himeno is already freezing him solid with her icy glare. Denji tucks his chin to his chest and subtly twists in the island stool to look at your paper again. 

Bullet points go five lines down the page; and the only thing he can make out is one of the few characters Aki’s taught Denji at his request:

愚か. Stupid.

Denji's eyes bounce back up to your face, eyes a little gooey and smile all soft. He knows that goofy look well, it's how he finds himself everytime he thinks about you. Before he can lose himself in that, he's jealous. You're making that lovestruck face over some stupid guy that Denji can't even write a strongly worded letter to. 

Denji writes one of the other few things Aki has taught him. Your name with a bold arrow pointing down at the stick figure. 

Then he erases it. He scrubs the pink bud over your name so hard he tears the paper in half. A loud shirrr dragging every eye to his hunched form, shoulders hiking higher over his face at the increased attention.

“Hark! The fool cannot even spell!” Power cackles, “Show me his words! Show me his mistake!”

“Power,” you chide, as though she's a fitful toddler and not a horrific Fiend, “Be nice. You can't write either.”

“Liar!” she points at you with a shaking finger.

Kobeni shyly taps Power on the shoulder before pointing at the paper overflowing with Power's manic ideals of a partner, “Anything else…?”

“Honesty!” she glares at you sharply, “And unwavering devotion!”

“Right…” Kobeni mutters unsurely, neglecting her own paper as she continues to scribble on Power's.

“Ignore her,” you scoot your stool closer to Denji and he manages to flip his page over before you can see the drawing, “Do you need help?”

He’s nodding before his mouth can even pop open, eventually he manages to sputter alongside it, “Yeah, yeah!” taking full advantage of his new opportunity to squish right against you at the island, “Can you write…”

Patiently, you await his request and he can feel his heart pumping in his throat every time you bat your lashes at him all sweetly. Your pen leaves jet black dots as it dips in your weak grasp, Denji has lots of words to describe you and all of them knot together on the tip of his tongue, tangled and lashing to fall from his lips at once.

Ultimately, he settles for the least descriptive, “Nice.”

“Someone nice,” you nod and scratch that onto his paper, “I like that.”

Denji feels his whole body go junky with sparks of electricity, blood boiling hot at how you feel comfortable enough to drag your paper into his full view. You point at your top bullet point, nail tacking loudly into the surface when his eyes don’t immediately stray from your face to the words below. Your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you study his reaction, leaning your face even closer to his.

Though you’re blurry and jumbled in his peripherals, Denji can still make out the upturn of your lips. He looks over the rest of the page, desperately searching for any other words he can make out and mold himself to. That, or cope and make up some ways in which he’s at least comparable to your dream man.

He can make out: Pretty.

Do you think Denji is pretty?

He sees another one he recognizes: 歯 -- teeth -- but there’s two characters before that he’s useless against. 

Denji has teeth.

“Sharp,” you whisper into his ear, tingles raising along his pale flesh.

“Huh…?” Denji turns to look at you, heat rising far up to his ears.

An airy, almost delirious, giggle floats into his ears as you circle the two mysteries before teeth, “Sharp,” then you circle teeth, “Teeth. Sharp teeth.”

“You like guys with sharp teeth?”

“Love ‘em.”

Denji swallows harshly, shakily pointing to the next bullet point, “What’s that mean?”

農民を尊重する.

You press ever closer towards Denji, leaning your chin on his shoulder, “‘Respects farmers.’”

“I respect farmers…” he mutters dumbly, “I love their work.”

“I know you do.”

Denji blinks down at you, his thick lashes beating on his rosying cheeks and spiky teeth punching back into his lip. His breaths are short and hard, red overtaking his cheeks like a flustered little Kewpie doll. So precious and sweet, ready to crack beneath your palms. He’d trust you wholly, and you know you’d treat him well. He knows, too. You’re nice.

You laugh at his stunned face, posture rigid. The sudden shock making his shoulder jab up into your jaw uncomfortably -- you find it terribly charming. 

“I like girls…” Denji sighs out in a tremble, eyes trailing down your face, “I like girls with soft lips.”

“Do you?” you inch closer, by now long forgetting the presence of your friends and colleagues in the apartment. Teasing is fun, but teasing Denji is just the best.

“Mhm.”

.

.

.

After an awkward pause, Denji follows the quiet hum with,

“Can I… kiss you?”

You nod against his shoulder, chin digging down into the bone. Denji stretches his neck to kiss you -- and your lips are even softer and more sugary than he imagined. His hands scratch out to cradle you to himself, continuously parched no matter how much of you he has to drink in. Warm hands and arms around you, clinging and wrapping and pulling. Wincing from the prickle of Denji’s teeth against your lip, you cinch a hand around the chest of his shirt and wrench it towards you -- pulling Denji closer along with it. 

“You like me?” he utters against your lips.

Pulling back, you flip around your paper and sear your index nail around a very recognizable word, “My ideal partner. I was a little scared to share at first…”

Denji almost jumps right off the stool, ready to coop you in his arms and swing you around fully in front of his roommates and coworkers. Instead he laughs in full disbelief to himself, reaching down to squeeze your other hand in both of his. You’re briefly concerned he’s cutting off blood flow before the joy of his pure excitement overtakes that concern. 

DENJI is big and plain over the very top of the page. 

“What changed your mind?”

You snicker right into his ear and reach out to flip over Denji’s paper, torn at the top, “I could tell you felt the same, pretty boy.”

Denji squeezes your hand even tighter, giggling almost feverishly before he’s sliding off the stool, “Wanna go make out in my room?”

“Thanks for having the decency to move now,” an unpleasant sneer breaks Denji’s cloudy dream-turned-reality.

“Fuck you,” Denji hisses at Aki.

“I think it’s cute!” Himeno pushes at the back of Aki’s head, “Focus on yourself!”

You let Denji drag you from the kitchen island and towards his (and Power’s, not that she’ll be allowed in for the next however many hours) room. 

“So, you really think ‘m pretty?” Denji’s voice teeters just on the edge of snarky, but his skittish, red frame speaks louder.

“Prettiest,” you coo, kissing his cheek.

The affection has him seconds away from blurting out an awkward, ill-timed: You’re really my dream girl.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can I request a Xavier Thorpe x reader where Xavier is really affectionate towards reader & Bianca is super jealous. Like they’re all in class and reader sits down next to Xavier and he pulls her chair closer to him & kisses her and plays with her hair throughout the class and Bianca gets jealous so she tries to use her powers to get Xavier to like her again but it doesn’t work because he’s so in love with reader.

Please. Ily

(Girl idk, I just be daydreaming lmao)

I decided to add my own twist to your request as I don’t like it to be too cheesy. I hope you still like it

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Textbooks in hands, you walked into Miss Thornhill’s classroom. Your eyes searched for an empty seat, the corner of your mouth lifting when seeing Xavier was sitting alone. His head was down, his gaze focussed on his sketchbook — as always. 

You walked around the table to get to the empty seat. ‘’What are you working on?’’ you asked, putting your things down. 

Xavier looked up for a short second to acknowledge you, then returned his attention to his drawing. ‘’Hey,’’ he greeted. ‘’Just something I saw in a dream. Getting the image on paper helps figuring if it’s linked to being psychic or a regular dream.’’ 

‘’And which one is this one?’’ You peaked at the sketchbook, seeing an old house with a gated fence.

He shrugged, using his finger to blend the pencil marks. ‘’I have not figured it out yet.’’ 

The bell rang, signaling the start of the lesson. Miss Thornhill walked in front of her desk, the heels of her red boots clicking on the tiles, instructing the class to open their textbooks to page 394. 

You grabbed yours and flipped through the pages, but before you could get to the right page, you felt your chair moving as Xavier was smoothly pulling it closer to his. Sitting at the same table wasn’t close enough for his liking. 

The small gesture awakened a pang of jealousy in Bianca, who was sitting at the table right next to yours. Her siren eyes were pointing daggers at you, in her heart still considering Xavier hers although they had broken up. 

After class, you gave Xavier a quick kiss before parting for lunch to meet with Enid and the other girls from Ophelia Hall to talk strategy for the coming Poe cup tournament. The Black Cats were going to win this year!

‘’For the costumes, I was thinking we could—’’

Enid’s words got drowned as you saw Bianca coming up to Xavier, her neck bare. You never thought she would use her powers on him to get him back — it was twisted —, but love makes you do crazy things. You weren’t too worried, though. Xavier was safe from her persuasiveness. You had made sure of it by giving him a necklace with a special stone.

But you were very curious to see the look on Bianca’s face when she’ll realize her powers weren’t working. 

Excusing yourself, you crossed the quad. 

‘’It’s not going to work,’’ you told Bianca, surprising her from behind. ‘’I understand that rejection hurt, but if you have to go as low as forcing someone into love you, maybe you should check your morals.’’ 

‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about...’’ She gave you an innocent look. ‘’Xavier and I were just talking.’’ 

‘’I saw you, Bianca. You were going to hypnotize him. But, as I said, it’s not going to work.’’ 

The siren narrowed her eyebrows, still denying what she tried to do. ‘’Did you spike his breakfast with a love potion?’’ Her eyes flickered to Xavier, trying to turn him against you. ‘’She practices witchcraft, you know that, right?’’

‘’Love potions don’t make people fall in love. It only makes a person infatuated with another,’’ you corrected, shutting her accusation. 

Bianca’s mouth curled into a smirk, not letting go. ‘’You seem to know a lot about the subject. Are you sure you haven’t used one before?’’ 

Having enough of the argument, Xavier tried to break it. ‘’Bianca, that’s enough!’’ he told her, his green eyes more than serious.

—

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Idk, something a bit different.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

She doesn’t see him but he sees her. He’s not hiding. He’s right there. If she just looked up, he’d be caught. But she doesn’t so he remains.

The pointed led scratches over the thick paper. Beside the open sketchpad is a plate of orange chicken and lo mein. He hasn’t touched either. His appetite has wandered away like his mind.

Carefully he etches the line of her nose. She carries a lot of her character there, as she scrunches it at whatever she’s reading then wiggles it as she reaches to sooth an itch. She never quite stops moving, like a hummingbird, she’s aflutter.

Mrs. Zhao comes by her table to deliver her food. A plate of dumplings steaming amid a bed of bean sprouts and broccoli. A quiet thank you is uttered but her eyes don’t meet the elder woman’s gaze. He notices how she can hardly look anywhere but the pages beneath her fingers. Her shield against the world around her.

She closes the book and slides it to the edge of the narrow table for two. She grabs the chopsticks and slides off the paper sleeve. She pulls, struggling to pry them apart only for the left one to break in two, still stuck to the other. Disappointment shadows her features and she lays the chopsticks down mournfully.

He scribbles, trying to capture her expression. He has several crowded onto the page; her pensive stare, her scowling focus, and the shadow of a smile that dimples her cheeks. She takes the fork and pokes at a dumpling. The sharp tines release a small plume of steam.

She uses the side to cut into the tender shell of the dumpling. She blows over a small morsel before tasting it. Her delight is plain as she chews slowly, savouring the taste. As he watches, he recalls his own frigid food.

He lets the notebook close on its own. He leaves it by his elbow, setting the pencil down to roll against its spine. He pulls his plate close, twirling a knot of noodles around his fork. He takes a bite and peeks over at her. 

He pretends that they sit together, that they’re eating at the same table. In some other world, they would be. This would be a sweet date he surprised her with and she would thank him with a smile. Her real smile, the one she chews on but doesn’t let free.

But this isn’t that world. This is reality and he’s just a stranger. She doesn’t know him. She hasn’t even noticed him sitting right there. He puts the fork down and sits back. His appetite curdles to hot bile. 

The loneliness is what he hates the most about this new world. The people around him move too fast, they’re all lost in themselves, they’re looking with seeing, talking without listening. It’s like they don’t even speak the same language.

He asks Mrs. Zhao for a to-go box. Another pile of leftovers to go with the rest. It’s habit. He hates to see a meal go wasted. He remembers the days of mustard sandwiches, when his mother scraped every grain of flour to make a loaf. Nearly a century. A hundred years lost, a life stolen. From him.

He packs up the noodles and the saucy chicken and snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t leave yet. She’s still eating. Just as deliberately as before. Her careful bites are self-conscious as she dabs a napkin to her lips now and again. She doesn’t finish hers either.

She accepts a box and a fresh set of chopsticks to take with her. She slides the remnants of her meal into the container and closes it, fingers squeezing the edges as she checks to make certain it’s secure. She doesn’t leave either. She lingers as she resumes her reading, just a few pages before she finishes the chapter.

She counts out a tip on the table top and stacks it by her empty plate. He tilts his head. She’s a creature out of time. Sort of like him. He always sees the plastic swiping or the tap of a watch that has the machine chirping. She’s old-fashioned, he likes that.

She uses the table to leverage herself to her feet. Her hips are slightly crooked as she stands and pulls on her light baby blue jacket. It’s long and belted at the waist but she leaves it open. She slips her book into her canvas bag and hangs it over her shoulder. She cradles the container in her arm, leaning on the chair before she takes her first step.

He noted that before. One leg seems longer than the other as she limps across the quiet restaurant. She doesn’t seem bothered by her uneven gait, she simply goes on. She stops by the door and looks at the little figurine; a smiling cat waving an arm.

He puts his head down and listens to her departure. He looks down at his gloves hands, turning over his left as a glint of metal peeks out below the sleeve. Someone like him can be fixed but she’s there, with her small steps, forgotten.

He gets up so quickly, he hits his leg on the table. He hurriedly gathers up his sketchbook and clutches it against his leftovers. He waves to Mrs. Zhao as he marches out but can’t untangle his voice from his chest. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t lose another thing.

In the street, he catches sight of her blue coat. She’s not very quick as it is. He can easily keep up but he doesn’t want to meet her pace. She can’t see him. Not yet.

He rounds the corner nearly a block back from her. He pauses to feign interest in a window as she clutches her hip and slows. She stops not much further down as a bearded man sits against the brick with a cup jingling in his hand. She speaks so quietly, even the man on the pavement has to lean in. If it wasn’t for the laboratory torture, Bucky wouldn’t hear her either.

She’s sorry that she spent all her change but he can have the food. At first, the man’s face twists, he doesn’t seem happy with that. Then he accepts as if he can’t bear to deny her. Who could?

“Thanks, lady,” the man sounds like a buzzard.

She nods and wishes him a good day, as good as it can be, she adds. Then she’s off again.  

As Bucky trails her, he’s reminded of someone else. Of someone who once needed him. His protection and care. Just another person who abandoned him. The one person who could’ve understood him. Gone, just like everything else.

He tucks his chin down, eyes narrowing on the woman. Target acquired. He shakes off that thought, that worrying echo of the past. He’s not the machine they made him. He’s still a man. Alone and broken, just like they left him.

Like her.

Her

Just along the crooked and cracked walk, behind the overgrown bush, there lays the peeling door behind the creaky metal grate. It’s a grim scene but sometimes you pretend it’s a hidden entrance and that you’re unlocking the passage to some fantastical world. You twist the key, wiggling it before it catches, and you pull as hard as you can.

The wrought iron is heavy and one of the bars juts out enough to catch your sleeve. You use your shoulder to hold the outer door open as you unlock the second. You stumble inside, your hip achy and overworked. You close both doors tight, cranking the deadbolts back into place.

The rain will come soon. It’s why you wore your jacket. You expected it to come earlier but you’re glad it didn’t. The change in pressure always wracks your bones.

You hang the baby blue coat as you put your canvas bag on the worn wicker seat of the chair beside the door. The apartment is small but it’s all yours. The single room is a kitchen, bedroom, and everything else but the bathroom. That is barely more than a closet.

There’s a thump from above. Several as the neighbours’ toddler barrels around. You should’ve waited until after nap time to leave.

You leave your boots on the woven mat and fish out the novel from your bag. You limp across to the folding couch, still a bed as you hadn’t bothered to roll away the flimsy mattress. You lower yourself onto it, pulling a pillow behind you as you recline.

Your pelvis is sore. The chair in the restaurant wasn’t very comfortable, though the food was good for the cost. You don’t eat out very often. Not really at all but it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special.

You open the pages and quickly dive back into another life. A world where magic can weave miracles but tempts a dangerous darkness in its use. No good thing comes without a price.

You slump down as you read. The sunlight slowly fades as the clouds shift and the din deepens. You close the book as you look across the room at the floor lamp. The small distance across the room seems akin to Tolkien’s infamous trek. You don’t want to get up, you just want to sleep in the damp afternoon.

You sigh and put the book beside you. You rub your eyes and forehead and bend one leg, then the other. Your muscles are taut and protest with a dull burn. You can’t read in the dark, you’ll get another headache.

You groan and push yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. The slender frame echoes you sharply as you stand. Your right foot comes down heavier than the left as you cross the space. You flick on the light and flinch as a storm cloud seems to pass over your very window.

You turn to face the gap between the curtains. How strange. You near the pane as rain speckles on the outside. You peer up at the slat of sky visible between the rooftops. 

You twitch again as you hear something mulch. You whip your head to the side as you look towards the bush. It could be a critter hiding in the bin, no time to find their nest as the storm rises.

You back away, puffing out your fright. Living alone makes you paranoid, even if you prefer it. You live by your own rules, your own schedule, your own whims. The problem is, you’re finding it difficult to figure all those out. You don’t know what you want.

You sit again and rub your lower back. The only thing you can name, you can’t have. The pain is your eternal companion. The looks you get when you venture out are just as persistent. You felt those curious, somewhat dejecting, glances today. You don’t care if they think you walk a bit oddly, you just don’t like to be looked at.

You turn your head to gaze longingly at the kettle. It’s the perfect weather for tea and you forgot to get a cup of green at the restaurant. Yet, it’s a very far way to go, then back again to wait for the water to steam.

You relent. You stand up and go to the small counter set into the wall. You flip on the electric kettle and lean on the chipped laminate. The toddler’s footsteps rumble like thunder overhead and the shadows once more stir behind you.

You turn to face the apartment, hands curled around the counter’s edge. The steady drip of the eaves form a tempo as the rain spatters harder against the window, rattling it in the wooden frame. The doors quiver too as the tempest blows into the alley.

You used to like rainstorms, before they made you hurt so much. Before they seemed so dark. You used to like a lot of things before you were broken. Those days seem very far behind you. Sometimes, you wonder if they ever were.

[creativesaturn]

hey!! i absolutely love your writing style, and i have notifications specifically on so i don’t miss when you post :) i had an idea that literally just came to me but i don’t really have any plot to go with it 😭

so basically, any cm character (maybe hotch, emily or spence?) walking in on the reader drawing said character & the reader gets really embarrassed and tries to put it away, but the character actually really likes the drawing and asks to keep it and just something wholesome idk 😭🫶

absolutely don’t feel pressured to write this, just had an idea and thought i’d share <3

Summary: Hotch finds out about your drawing hobby.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 515

a/n: sorry this took so long to post! I wanted to scrap it and redo it but I decided not to. That's really sweet of you thank you so much!!! hope you enjoy 💞💞

Aaron knocked on your hotel door, not once, but twice.

You were too busy listening to music that filled your sense of hearing, and completely focusing on the pencil in your hand.

For the past few days you've been struggling to find something to draw. It was one of your hobbies that you genuinely enjoyed, but it was always hard finding motivation.

But today, on the jet. You burned the image of Aaron sitting by the window during the sunset, just so you could draw it later. It was a sight for sore eyes. You didn't care if he could notice you staring, you needed to keep every detail engraved in your mind.

So--as soon as you step foot in your hotel room, you knew exactly what you were going to do.

"y/n?" Aaron's voice startling you as he stood inches behind you.

You quickly turned around, looking up at the tall man. You pulled your headphones out your ears; mouth agape unsure what to say.

He glances behind you to see what had your attention, his face had an expression you couldn't quite make out. So, you thought of the worst.

You quickly turned back, taking the piece of paper to turn over and hide.

"Is that me?" He asked, voice soft as he spoke.

"Uhm--Yeah.. Yeah, it-it is.." You stumbled over your own words, "It's totally stupid though, 's not even done yet." You mumbled, your voice so low he was unsure if he heard you.

"It's not stupid," He retorted, reaching for the paper. You quickly pulled back, watching his eyes as they widened.

"Let me see."

"No.."

"Please?"

You looked down at your hands, sighing as you slowly handed him the paper. You fidgeted with your fingers as you looked anywhere but his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in his expression.

"You're very good with details," He complimented you. "Where'd you learn how to do this?" He asked sincerely, looking up from the drawing to look at your face.

"Just something I learned over the years," You shrugged. "I get bored a lot." You looked up at him, profiling his reaction.

He had a soft smile, his eyebrows raised as if he was impressed and you swore his eyes glistened.

"Can I keep it?" Aaron asked.

"You--You want to keep it?" You asked, shocked at the question.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He chuckled, bringing the page down to his side to show he had his attention on you.

"Because.. I don't know..." You shrugged, unable to hide the smile that he gave you.

"The team is waiting for us, by the way." Aaron laughed, seeing the bright pink that danced across your face.

"Okay." You nodded, making your exit out of the hotel.

Not many people knew you drew, at least well. When you'd tell people they expect stick figures and doodles you'd find on the side of a middle schoolers test. And every time they'd notice, it was always the same expression. It never failed to bring you joy and validation from others compliments.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[makethosenarratorsfight]

UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SEMI FINALS

Lemony Snicket Propaganda:

(I would like to preface this by saying that Lemony Snicket is the author's pen name, not a real person, and he exists as a character in-universe as well as being the one in-universe who writes the books!) I'd say he's unreliable because he spent time collecting information about the Baudelaire kids and then... wrote books about it. He has no idea what any of their dialogue actually was, what they were thinking, or even the whole plot, he's just doing research into the incidents and then filling in the gaps to make it a story. What ACTUALLY happened to the Baudelaires? Nobody really knows for sure

While the Baudelaire siblings are in potentially life threatening danger, he will randomly start talking about his own life and just leave the siblings hanging. For example, once Count Olaf was threatening to kill Violet, and then Lemony randomly began talking about how he met the love of his life at a costume party. This man CANNOT stay on topic. Usually when a new character is introduced, Lemony tells us right at the start that they’re either going to die or that the Baudelaire siblings will never see them again. Foreshadowing is not subtle in these books. CONSTANTLY emphasizes how miserable he feels while writing these books. At one point he admits that he had to put his pencil down and go cry for a while because of how sad it made him. Once he filled an entire page with nothing but the word “ever” to emphasize how dangerous it is to put forks in electrical outlets. He also repeated a paragraph about deja vu later on in the book to give the reader deja vu.

Marvin propaganda:

this bitch is crazy you can't trust a thing she says!!!! but um seriously he is neurotic and while recounting his childhood everything is wack and doesn't make sense and ummm. Idk the man lies he withholds information (such as names of main characters he deems unworthy or important details) he makes he presents his fantasies like actual canon events (how marvin eats his breakfast, rape of ms goldberg) he tries to convince himself and therefore us that he's straight ummm he's just a little freak and an attention whore and a liar and a fugly slut and i love him. Heart

[kimberly-spirits13]

Imagine You’re in School with Jason (AP Lit Style)

You’ve been basic friends for a while

Just the type that can have a good laugh but don’t know everything about each other

He’s probably not the first person you’d go to if you’re upset about something but he’s still considered a friend

That is until you start having all your classes together

I’d imagine that if you’re like me, your both taking the most AP classes that you like

AP Lit is the favorite

He loves Anna Karenina because it’s like a TLC show for the Victorian Russians

Jason is a stationary guy, so in class he’s got washi tape to mark chapter sets, non bleed highlighters, microns, little post its, see through post-its, book marks, nice mechanical pencils and refills, and it’s all in a brown leather pencil case

He likes Socratic seminars because he likes to talk about the books

He likes essays but always have to have a page limit given to him because he will write a full book about his thoughts on the book

In class, he’s always asking you what you think about something and he likes that you two can keep up with each other

I don’t think he’s the boy to be hyper concerned with grades, but because he understands his lessons, he naturally makes pretty good grades

You’re assigned a group project where you and Jason decide to partner up to do a poster of Anna Karenina

When you come over to his house for the English project, he has all the supplies and he suddenly realizes that he’s a bit embarrassed about it

“So Alfred (me) may have gone a bit overboard but we can do something simple if you’d like- or idk make it nice”

Please help this man decorate this stupid poster board

Alfred makes your favorite type of drink or gets it, makes food, you two put on a movie or some music, and get to work

“So what do you think is important about Karenin and Vronsky having the same first names?”

“I think it’s important for theme that Anna was introduced with a train and died by train”

“Betsy is a bitch”

He loves to talk about it with you

Once you’re done with the project, he asks you to come over and do homework together

If you’re a vigilante, you’ll do patrol after because you two connect the dots quickly

If you’re normal, suddenly Jason has to run off and says Alfred will take you home but we’ll talk about that another day

For time purposes, we’ll say that you quickly find out about his patrol life

I mean dude comes bruised, he gets called to the basement a lot, he’s a true crime buff, sometimes he goes missing for hours, and it’s Gotham like come on everyone might as well be a vigilante or smt

Dick teases Jason about you two, especially when you’re over

You can’t help that you get cold watching the 6 hour long Pride and Prejudice movie and Jason is right there like come on Dick

Jason is lokey blushing soooo hard if you cuddle up next to him or even if you’re on the same couch

You two start to become inseparable at school

Not in a pda way but like a “I mean we might as well just hang out all the time” kind of way

Automatically becomes your date to any sort of school function

Even if it’s an unspoken thing that you two will be each other’s date, he still gets you flowers and asks you to go with him

Dick eventually pushes him to ask you out because “for real dude we all know you’re crushing”

Jason is a tall dude, towers over everyone, bulked up, dark hair, dark blue eyes, he’s gorgeous and everyone else are the ones intimidated by him

But when he asks you out he is so nervous

I mean the logical part of him is pretty sure that you’ll like him back, but the irrational part is terrified that he is about to mess up your friendship

He asks you at the end of the school day on a Friday incase you say no, there’s a weekend to get over it and he won’t ruin both of y’all’s days by asking during first period or something

When you say yes he’s like “😱” and a part of him is reborn or smt dramatic like that

He basically speeds home and endures the lecture from Alfred on reckless driving

He’s even more excited that you asked if he wanted to go to the park or the bookstore

And he’s like YESSSSSSSSSSS

You two have enormous text message conversations and he likes to FaceTime

Please I think he’s a hot chocolate junkie

He’s got all sorts of mugs ranging from regular white ones to fandom ones

Sweat pants king and he’ll give you any sweat set you want

Or oversized t shirts

He thinks pda at school it gross (it is) so he keeps it on the down low but he’ll definitely hug you or run his fingers through your hair if one of you needs it

He likes playing with your hair because it’s soothing

Please watch documentaries and period dramas with him

Or book to screen adaptations that are good

[cup1dxzs]

Darling little puppet

Wally Darling X Reader

It had been an early Saturday morning, the kind of morning in which the mourning dove could faintly be heard cooing from a tree it chose to perch upon and the morning sun slowly rising to shine it’s light across the land.

You’d decided to lounge around in the living room of your decently sized abode, located in the suburbs but not too far from the city yet not too close, it was just right in your opinion. For now you decided to pick up on a little doodle you had been doing just the night before, the silence of your living space had made you a little bit anxious so you’d settle on grabbing the remote to your Tv and leave a show running as some background noise to help keep you at bay.

Smiling fondly at the show, it somehow made you feel nostalgic and reminiscent of your younger years where your only concern had been getting home in time to watch the newest episode of your favorite show, the good ol’ times as you would put it. Finally breaking gaze from the screen you’d go back to your drawing as well, giggling a little bit as you’d felt similar to the blue haired fellow you saw just a second ago, leaving your current drawing of a blue jay bird unfinished you’d flip the page of the sketchbook and began your new journey of drawing the unnamed puppet.

‘Jeez am I really obsessing over a children’s show? I should get out more often…’ You thought to yourself as you snickered a little bit at your strange antics, maybe you should actually get out more often? But I mean who could even blame you? This life was as cozy as it could get, you were content with how things seemed to be going so far, laying down your pencil you’d look back up at the Tv in hopes to see your muse for the artistic drawing and in your favor there he was!

“Hello neighbor, I’m finally finished up with my painting, do you like it? Isn’t it just the most!” The pompadour adorning puppet spoke as he turned a piece of paper with an Apple drawn onto it, you gave a small grin as you credited yourself for doing such a good drawing despite having little reference as the yellow puppet had barely been on the screen. Finally tuning into the show you grinned at the silliness of the show presented before you, but the more you payed attention to more uneasy you felt, it was a small and slight feeling, only ever happing when that puppets gaze seemed to linger longer than it should’ve, staring right through you, almost as if it could actually see you and was just simply observing you from the inside the Tv.

“I really should get out more…”

———————————————————————————

HELLO EVERYONE!! This is indeed my first fanfic I’ve ever written, pls lmk if I should continue, I’m open to requests but Idk how to open my ask box :( hope y’all enjoyed it!! :D

[hobiebrownismygod]

Could you make a hobie fanfic where you and hobie plan and paint a mural/graffiti and in doing discover things about each other? Idk I think that art can show a lot about someone and it would be cool to see that with hobie

OMG, this is such a cute idea!! What I wrote was a little bit short, so sorry if that's a problem. I'm willing to add on if you'd like more though :) I tried to include some indirect symbolism and characterization, but if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ask <3

Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x GN!Reader

Sketch with Me - Short Fic

____________________________________________________________

In a universe where color was a crime, a city where individuality was a sin, and a culture based around greed and want, Hobie Brown stood out amongst the masses. Hobie had always been a child of chaos, never conforming to the ideals others imposed on him, and never trusting the higher-ups to know what was best for him. In a world where everyone kept themselves locked under a mask, Hobie Brown used his mask to express himself even further, surpassing a limit that had been pulverizing the citizens of London ever since that dreadful election.

But that mask wasn't the only way for him to indirectly flip Osborne off.

"A mural?"

"More of graphic declaration, but yes."

"That's what a mural is."

"Eh..."

You gave your best friend a sore look, eyes running over his figure sprawled out across the couch and boredly shredded paper between his fingers. He sat up and looked back at you, that mischievous grin spreading across his face. "And I know just the place to do 't."

"No."

He blinked at you. "B-But you 'aven't even heard what I was gonna say-"

"One of Osborne's places, right? They're always swarming with cozzies (cops)." You said, folding your arms over your chest as you glared at him. He nodded sheepishly, standing up and walking over towards you. "I'm not going to get myself arrested for some lousy graffiti."

"I won't let y'get arrested." he looked a bit hurt at the fact that you didn't believe he'd be able to keep you out of jail.

"You can't promise that." You replied, paying no mind to his frown.

"But I can." he held out his pinky towards you, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "I swear." You rolled your eyes at him, muttering your annoyance under your breath before you interlocked your finger with his, effectively giving him what he wanted and signing your refusal away.

"What are we gonna paint?" You asked with a sigh, moving over so he could sit next to you. He plopped down on the couch. "I don't care what it is as long as it pisses Ozzy off." he grinned, leaning back against the couch. "Lot's of color, lot's of tongues and lot's of harsh words. He won't like that ruining his pretty mansion."

You snorted under you breath, grabbing his sketchbook from the table in front, along with a half-broken pencil. You flipped through while he watched, stopping on a blank page and pressing the pencil against the paper. You hesitated, looking back at him. "So...what are we gonna paint?"

"What do you want to paint?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. "Mmm..." you began to sketch out a rough outline of what you wanted to spray onto that wall. He wanted colorful. Hobie leaned over your shoulder, watching as you messily drew out what looked somewhat like a woman's side profile, her hair sticking up in odd, angled spikes and a lollipop protruding from her mouth. Her eyes were closed, with long, thick lashes, and you sketched in a singular teardrop falling down her cheek.

Hobie nodded, a small smile spreading across his face. "Tha's lovely." You smiled back, putting the book down and staring at it, biting the inside of your cheek as you mulled over what else you could add. Hobie ran his finger along the outline of her hair. "Make it rainbow, lots of green and purple."

His eyes lit up as he traced his finger onto the tear. "And make this red."

"Red?" you asked with a laugh. "Tears aren't red."

"'s not about what color they are normally. It's about wot they symbolize." He said cockily, pulling out the collar of his shirt with his finger as if he was too hot. "Yeah?" You asked with a laugh. "And what do they symbolize?"

He thought for a moment. "Anger." He looked back down. "Yeah, anger. Anger at wha's going on in London, anger at those wankers up in Ozzy's parties, anger at-" he stopped himself, taking a deep inhale as he sat back. "You know what I mean" his expression darkened.

You put your hand on top of his, offering him a reassuring smile before you labeled down the teardrop as 'red'. "For the words, I'm thinking we could write words that her face will cover up." You scribbled down random things like 'money' and 'police', erasing the parts that her face covered up. "Yeah, that's cool." He said, tone returning back to normal.

"We put the A on her cheek" Hobie added, referring to the ACAB symbol he added onto all his graffiti art pieces. You obliged, writing down a small 'A' that the two of you would detail when you actually painted it later. The two of you looked over it one last time. "It's simple." you said with a slight frown. "It's perfect."

He stood up with a grin, offering his hand over to you. As you took his hand, he pulled you towards him, picking the sketchbook out of your grasp and tucking it into his vest before he spun you around.

"Let's go cause some chaos, shall we darling?"

Tags:

@therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder

Click here to be added to the taglist!

[starcrossedreaders]

Are You Really Okay?

Chapter One: The Art of Bullshit

Chapter summary: Tuesdays for Jean were easy days, he had two classes to go and the rest of the day was his to waste away, until today.

Warnings: Cursing

Notes: This will be a slow-burn type of story,idk how slow it will be. Also if you have any ideas on where to take this next please share them, So enjoy!

Genre: "Enemies" to lovers Jean falling first??

Pairings: Jean x F!Reader

word count: 1,758

Next Chapter

The cold wind scarred Jean's cheeks as the cold air bit at his lungs. The walk to his creative writing class was always the worst. Having to walk across campus from the art building to the English building was always the worst part of his Tuesdays and Thursdays. He had 15 minutes to make it to class, and the cold wind of the departing winter still ran through the air as spring came closer and closer each day, making the walk worse than it needed to be. 

The entrance to the building came closer to sight as Jean picked up his pace to run away from the cold air. Opening the door, warm air sucked Jean into the building. He pulled his hood down, shook his hair into place, and rubbed his hands together in the hope of bringing the heat back to them. Quick to make it to class on time he skipped a step or two as he went up the stairs and turned right to go to his lecture hall. Normally, he would never be in this big of a rush to get to class on time but after a few phone calls from his parents about how if he loses his scholarships to dumb habits like that he would be on his own. Normally he would never be this negligent, but ever since June 16th of last year Jean never really seemed to be himself. 

Swinging the classroom door open, he was quick to take a seat somewhere in the middle and pull out his sketchbook. The empty page with a few pencil lines stared back at him. Resting his head on his hand he tapped the desk as he desperately searched his brain for some idea for his assignment. His thoughts were scattered as the chair next to him screeched in agony against the floor, the thump of someone sitting in the chair and a sigh followed right after had him looking to see who sat next to him. 

His eyes widened a little as his breath hitched. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight next to him. You. Your cheeks were raw from the cold air as your soft lips slightly parted as your panted. Your hair framed your face perfectly as you fixed a few stray pieces. One last shiver ran through your body as you huffed leaning back into your seat to get ready for the next agonizing 95 minutes. 

“You could not have been any louder when sitting down.” Jean mumbled to himself more then you.

You scoffed and right as your opened your mouth to give him some snarky remark, the classroom door swung open as the professor scrambled in the room.

“Sorry for my tardiness, I was helping Professor Levi with his technology.” In one big breath she set her stuff down on her desk before she went around and started to set up the lecture. The class snickered before she turned back around and began her lecture.

While she spoke about your next assignment, you mindlessly doodled in the notebook in front of you, trying not to pay any mind to the guy sitting next to you. The constant tapping of his pen on his desk was driving you nuts. There was nothing more you wanted to do than to just tell him off right then and there.

“For this assignment, I don’t just want you guys to right some random fictional piece, at this point you should be good at that. Instead, I want you guys to take parts of your past, good or bad and put it into a story without using yourself or the others involved.” The professor was very animated as she through her hands around trying to explain the assignment.

“Take the storyline or plot and write about it in a creative way with new characters. Be creative, maybe put it in a fantasy world, or turn it into a comic strip instead of novel…” Jean drowned her out, not really interested in what she was talking about.

“...You guy’s will be doing this assignment with the people sitting next to you. Everything you need to do it is on the website. Good luck.” Jean groaned at the idea of having to do partner work.

Pulling out your laptop you sigh. “You’re the type of person that makes these stupid assignments worse then they need to be.” You mumbled as you logged in.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jean closed his sketchbook and followed your actions.

“Exacatly what is sounds like.” You deadpan as pulled up a google doc.

“Whatever, what are we writing about.” Jean clicked a pen as if he was ready to jot down notes in his notebook. It was very obvious he could careless about what was being written, as long as it got done with a good grade.

“I don’t know. Have you had any interesting events forever changing the trajectory of your life? The more we trauma dump the better the grade.” You mumbled as you traced out random shapes on your laptop. 

Your indifference to the words you spoke is what caused you to miss the way Jean’s shoulders tensed up. The way he stopped spinning his pen between his fingers. The way he stared off as his mind ran straight to the one place his mind had been playing on repeat for him for the past year.  You didn’t miss the silence though, or the way his pen made a soft thud as it dropped on his notebook and rolled off the desk. Turning your head to face him you noticed the way his lips pressed together to form a straight line, the way his brows furrowed, or the slight twitch of his left eye as he stared off. Clearly, you touched a hard part of his life without realizing it.

Sighing, you bent over in your chair to pick up his pen. Slapping it down softly on his desk your voice pulled him out of his trance. “Here, you dropped this.” 

Leaning back in your chair you began to type out some ideas. Jean’s eyes slowly moved to look at the pen you placed on his desk and back up to you. Mumbling a curt thanks. Not really paying him any mind you turned your laptop to face him. 

“Here are some ideas what do you think?” Jean merely gazed at the screen before he shrugged his shoulders.

“If I’m being honest, I have more important things to worry about then writing a stupid story.” His cocky words itched you the wrong way.

“How unfortunate, because I rather not do all the work, so pick a topic and we can split the work.” You tried to reason with him, albeit not in the nicest way, but you still tried.

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted himself in his seat, god the desks were so uncomfortable. “The third one I guess.” Jean didn’t even know if there was a third a idea, he just wanted to comprise, split the work, and go his separate way.

You turned your laptop back to yourself as you mumbled. “Heartbreak… interesting.” You began to type away while Jean just spun his pen again. 

After a few heartbeats and loud keystrokes from you computer, you turned to Jean. “I have the work split and mapped out, do you have anyway I can contact you?” You did not seem pleased to be basically asking for his number. 

Based on his demeanor, the tattoos that peaked from under his hoodie, and his messy mullet you would have guessed him to be some frat fuckboy who probably has more girl numbers in his phone than he can actually remember, but it was worth a shot.

He looked at you with annoyance that made you cringe a bit. Sighing he shuffled in his chair as he pulled his phone out, unlocking it with face ID he handed it to you. You gripped the device in your hand as you pulled it back towards you. Quickly, you filled out your contact information, trying to ignore his shattered screen protector. You send a quick text to your phone before you hand it back to him. 

“I’ll text you the details.” You started to pack your things up in your bag before you stood up. “So please do the work, I gave you all the easy shit.” Before Jean could get a word out you were walking off to head back to your apartment.

You didn’t even ask him what his name was.

Something about that rubbed him the wrong way, he was never used that type of behavior from girls. They would fall to their knees and beg just to even get to do partner work with him like this, and yet here you are so standoffish and almost…cold.

The vibration of Jean’s phone in his pocket pulled him out of his conentrated state of rolling a blunt. Quickly licking the paper and sealing it shut he handed it to Connie before he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

[Y/N]: *2 attachments*

Here’s you half of the work.

“What a buzz kill.” He mumbled before he looked at the two pictures you sent. He was appalled to say the least. Everything you gave him did not seem like easy work at all.  Annoyed with the work load you just gave him he had to response, as much as he just wanted to leave you on seen.

[Jean]: That does not seem easy at all, why the hell do I have to draw for a writing class?

[Y/N]: It's a creative writing class so idk be creative maybe?

Your quick response had him snort and shake his head.

[Jean]: Wth do I draw then?

His cluelessness made you role your eyes, everything he needed to go off of was literally in the pictures you sent.

[Y/N]: Idk you’re the artist, just use the art of bullshit and figure it out.

[Jean]: Real helpful

[Y/N]: you’re welcome.

Before Jean could give you a snarky remark Connie was pushing on his shoulder. “It’s your turn man.” Connie held out a burning blunt, the same one Jean just rolled.

Jean took it inbetween his fingers and took a long drag as he thought about the what the hell he was supposed to draw. Taking one more hit he passed it on before he looked at the pictures you sent. 

Writing prompt/ idea: The art of losing those closest to you.

Maybe he should have paid closer attention to the options that were given to him.

[i-spaced-sorry]

Breaks are necessary and good for you

Enjoy a little Halstead sister and sibling fic about her hitting a wall due to overworking herself and her brothers helping her through it. As always the story is below the cut!

"Honey, take a nap, your tired" cooed your boyfriend, Alister.

"Can't. I need to take notes on the anatomy and physiology chapter and then I need to take a prequiz and then I need to get ready for work tomorrow." You replied while pulling up a side window of Netflix on your laptop. The bigger window on the screen was composed of your textbook for class.

"No, you need a break" stated Alister while pushing the lid of your laptop down.

"I told you, I can't" you repeated while pushing your laptop lid back up.

"Fine, then I'm going home. I can't see you overwork yourself!" Exclaimed Alister while he scooted out of his chair.

"Fine!" You exclaimed back, "I didn't want to see you today anyway" you added.

"Maybe I shouldn't date you period then" exclaimed Alister back.

"Fine by me" you screeched back!

"Good! Have a nice life Y/N" shouted Alister while slamming the door shut.

Without even letting yourself dwell on what just happened, you picked up your pencil and began note taking.

"Woah, what was with all the yelling" asks your eldest brother Will while walking out of his room.

"Nothing" you muttered.

"Didn't sound like nothing" stated Will. "Where did Alister go?" He added, while looking around the room.

"Home." You stated nonchalantly while scrolling to the bottom of the page on your ebook.

Will walked over to the coffee pot and poured cold coffee in a mug. While walking it over to the microwave he spoke, "sounded like you guys got into an argument. What was it about?"

You put your pencil down and sighed, "he was mad because I keep picking up shifts for work and when I'm not working I'm studying for school. He's mad that I'm tired but I'm not letting myself have a break."

"And what do you think of that?" Prompted Will. He too thought you were overworking yourself but felt like it wasn't really his place to say anything since he was the same way when he was in med school.

"Idk, we broke up I guess" you shrugged.

"You broke up?" Asked Will.

"I guess that's what happened" you replied.

Walking over and hugging you, Will sighed "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I don't have time for boyfriends anyway. I gotta study, work, and make sure I'm prepared for my first exam in 3 weeks."

Sighing to himself, Will decided to let the issue of you overworking yourself go until he could talk to Jay about it. Jay saw you more during the week then he did anyway. So he would ask Jay what it looked like and if it was as bad as it seemed then they would intervene.

1 week later.

"Will, I think I got pick pocketed" you sobbed when Will picked up the phone.

Sitting up, Will spoke, "what do you mean you think you got pick pocketed?"

He hasn't had time to ask Jay about what he was witnessing as the ED got slammed and was severely understaffed and Will had to work 48hrs. And Jay's unit had picked up a hefty case and he hasn't been home as often as he would have liked.

"I was on the bus on the way to the library when I got to my train stop. Something in me decided to throw my hand in my zipper pocket to check for my wallet. But it's not there" your breathing was hitching with how distraught you were getting.

"Are you sure it isn't in another pocket?" Theorized Will. He would hate for you to lose your wallet when you needed your license to be able to do clinicals when the time came and you would have to cancel all your cards.

"I did 7 times. I swear I put it in my backpack before leaving the apartment!" You exclaimed!

"Take a deep breath"

You breathed in and out, "okay, now what?"

"I'm going to call Jay."

"Call Jay? Why? You think I'm crazy! You think I've overworked myself! You don't believe me!" You shouted while the Loop bound train rolled past you.

"Y/N, breathe, I do believe you. Your not crazy, okay. I'm just going to see if Jay is home and if he is, I'm going to see if he can check around your room, okay?"

"But I told you I put my wallet in my backpack!"

"Y/N, I hear you. I believe you. But just in case, it would be a good idea to have Jay check around your room. I'm not saying we will find it but it will be good to check before you commit to cancelling all your cards. Don't you think?" Rationed Will.

"Yea, I guess. But I swear I put it in here" you sounded so defeated and Will felt so shitty that he hadn't caught the signs of what this might be before it was too late.

"I'll call you right back, okay?"

"Okay"

Will's POV

"Jay?" Stated Will when Jay picked up.

"What's up?" Asked Jay on the other line.

"You home?"

"Yea, why?"

"2 things"

"Shoot"

"1. Have you seen Y/N's wallet? She thinks she was pick pocketed but I have the sneaking suspicion she just left it at home"

Will could hear Jay get up and heard him shuffling around, probably walking into Y/N's room and looking around, "It's here, she left it on her dresser" he hears Jay say a few minutes later.

"Oh thank God, that's a relief" sighed Will.

"You said there was 2 things, what's the second thing?" Asks Jay.

"Oh, yea, have you noticed Y/N acting any different?"

"Different how?" Replied Jay while he sat down.

"I don't know, studying too much, maybe working more hours than usual. Lack of sleep, lack of concentration. Anything?"

Jay thought about it for a while and the silence on the phone made Will almost think his brother hung up on him.

"I mean I've been slammed at work recently, you know that. So I haven't been around much to really get a good read on what's happening. But didn't you say her boyfriend just broke up with her? Maybe she's just grieving that."

"I don't know, I feel like it has to be more. Has she been home when you get home?"

"I've been getting home around midnight most nights. I mean there are days when she is walking in the door around that time, but I know she closes at her one job, so I thought she was just scheduled to work those days."

Will sighed, "it could be nothing, but I have the mind to ban her from studying or working for at least a day. She needs to take care of herself before she hits a wall and her body forces her to stop."

"I can do that. I know she is supposed to work tomorrow evening. I have a rare day off tomorrow myself, so I can make her call out of work and we can have a day watching mindless television and just chilling out" replied Jay.

"Sounds like a good idea. I gotta go, I told Y/N I'd call her back and let her know if she did leave her wallet at home"

"Bye"

"Bye"

Will hung up and called you immediately.

"Will?" You exclaimed when you picked up

"Hey, so I spoke to Jay and he said you left your wallet on your dresser"

"Oh thank God, crisis averted!"

"Crisis not averted Y/N" softly scolded Will.

Y/N's POV

"What do you mean?" You asked when Will said that.

"Jay and I are concerned. We think your overworking yourself."

"I'm not!" You pleaded

"But you are. This same exact thing with misplacing your wallet happened last December don't you remember?"

And you did remember. That week was hell. You were constantly working background gigs ontop of working opening shifts at work and were denying that you were getting sick. So much so your body gave you 1 warning sign in the form of misplacing your wallet. But you ignored the warning sign and opened the next day at work like nothing was wrong. But unfortunately your body needed a break and made you super ill, where you had to go home early from work and spend your birthday laid up in bed.

"I remember" you replied defeated. You knew your brothers meant well, but it was hard when you got into these mindsets to let yourself have a break.

"I won't ignore the warning sign this time. "

"Good, that's really good Y/N"

"But what do I do? Ya know to fix this?"

"Jay and I talked and he is going to stay home tomorrow on his day off and he suggested you call off and also stay home. "

"I can do that" you replied, already thinking about how by calling off you will have time to do notes and certifications for your class.

"But here's the catch" added Will, while also pulling you away from your thoughts.

"Uh oh" you replied

"You can't work on anything related to school or work"

"That's not fair! Will, I'll fall behind! I'm cruising by with a 90, if I don't study for this first exam I'm going to drop to an 80 and then I'll drop to a 75 because I'm behind and then I'll be below the passing average and if I don't get stuff done for school like the certifications by October 1st I'm not going to be able to do clinicals in October and then I won't pass the class and then I'll not be able to take the NREMT and then I'll be stuck in food service for another year when I enviably want to retake the class!" You were spiralling. You knew you were, but you just couldn't stop word vommiting.

"Woah, Y/N, take a deep breath" assured Will calmly.

Once you did, Will spoke again, "it's just 1 day. You will be able to stay ontop of everything, I know you will. Okay?"

"Okay," you mumbled

"And if you need help, don't forget you have a doctor brother right here and your other brother knows lots of paramedics and EMTs at the Firehouse who would be happy to help you stay atop of your class work."

"Your right" you replied

The next day

"Jay, do I really have to?" You asked while holding your finger over the manager on duty contact number in your phone.

"Yes. If you wait to do it later, then they may say you have to still go in"

It was 10am, you had woken up several hours ago out of habit but were watching TikToks until about 30 minutes ago

"The faster you get it done, the faster we can leave the house and get coffee" enticed Jay.

"Fine" you caved and pushed the button. Holding your phone to your ear you felt your heart race

"Hi, this Y/N, I'm supposed to come in today at 1:30 but I need a mental health day. I've been go go go since last Friday with work and school and yesterday I almost hit a wall and I just need a day to just let myself rest." You said when the person on the other side of the phone picked up.

Jay was proud of you and when you thanked the person and hung up he immediately hugged you.

"Let's go get coffee"

After getting coffee, the two of you came back to the apartment and you asked if you could watch Gilmore Girls. It was a yearly tradition for you to watch it every Fall from the beginning and you have begun watching it but weren't really getting to enjoy it cause you were always taking notes while it played in the background.

And you spend your day on the couch curled up to your big brother, occasionally taking naps and just watching TV.

Around 6:30, the two of you began to sit down for dinner when you spoke, "Thanks for hanging out with me today. And thanks for forcing me to slow down for 1 day."

"Anytime kiddo" replied Jay.

[multi-lefaiye]

sunbringer's song preview: elsewhere

hi i wanted to share a preview for sunbringer's song. teehee.

this is a bit from the end of the prologue--very light on actual spoilers for the game, but hints heavily at things to come. this also highlights three characters that aren't eden, but who will be important to varying degrees to the ongoing storyline.

tagging (tentative sunbringer's song taglist form?? idk just tagging people i think would wanna read this rn): @skitzo-kero @anexor @chaieyestea @vacantgodling @chaieyestea

@paradoxspir1t @moonflowerrss @invaderskoodge @albatris @void-botanist

--

Elsewhere, the nightwarden stands in her watchtower, her eyes scanning the map before her for the hundredth time.

Below her, the sound of her soldiers celebrating echoes through the still evening air, slurring vulgar drinking songs and banging on their drums.

It’s grating, their incessant hedonism, but by now, she’s able to tune them out. They may be disgusting and foolish, far beneath a warrior of her standing, but she can tolerate them as long as they remain useful, as long as they remain loyal. The nightwarden doesn’t need enlightened minds, only willing bodies.

In the coming days, the goblin horde she commands will march again, conquering thousands more in Her name. Until then, let them revel in their filth.

The nightwarden is brought out of her musings by a loud, booming thunderclap, and she startles briefly as she looks up at the sky. Rather than a storm, however, she sees a ball of fire plummeting towards the ground. She watches as it passes overhead, narrowing her eyes as she listens to the roaring fire and screams above. Something about the shape is familiar… Almost as if-

Just as soon as her mind begins to wander, she comes back to herself, wrenching her gaze from the sky and down to her map. A heartbeat passes, and she realizes that she’s gripping the parchment tightly enough to tear. She loosens her grip, ever so slightly, and lets out a quiet breath.

She has work to do.

-

Elsewhere still, a pale tiefling stands on a rocky ridge, peering through a telescope and jotting notes in her journal. She has a tiny, relaxed smile on her face, idly sketching the constellations above her. Her mother was right, loath as she is to admit it--they are far, far more beautiful in person than in a textbook.

At the thought of her mother, her hand stills, pencil still pressed to the page. She takes a breath, her shoulders slumping, and shakes her head.

No need to dwell on the past.

A sudden thunderclap catches her attention, and she turns her head towards the east, dark eyes widening and her mouth falling slightly open. Just over the horizon, she sees a ball of fire manifest and tumble through the sky, bigger than any comet she’s ever seen. Her little smile grows into a full-fledged grin, and she nearly breaks the lead on her pencil as she continues her sketching.

As she traces the meteor’s trajectory and mentally calculates its landing site, the breeze picks up, ruffling her blue nightshirt and long, silver hair. A distant smell wafts past her nose, nearly imperceptible were it not for the way it burns her skin. Sulfur.

Abruptly, the tiefling’s smile falls, and her drawing hand freezes. It takes her a long moment to start moving again, turning to pack away her journal and telescope for the night. Her hands shake, near imperceptibly, as she does.

That’s enough for one night, she thinks.

--

And yet elsewhere still, a githyanki knight lands his dragon atop a snowy mountainside. The creature has only just touched the ground when its rider is dismounting, cursing through shuddering breaths as he puts a hand to his side. Even with his armor and years of training his body, he wasn’t able to escape the battle unscathed, left with a sluggishly bleeding gash just under his ribs.

It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Hells, he’s had far worse injuries before--his instructor had been unforgiving, unyielding, uncaring for those who were anything less than perfect warriors. But today’s failure is just added salt in the wound. He’d been so close, and yet once again the comet had slipped through his grasp.

If the knight were a less determined man, less devoted to his cause, he would have gone mad long ago. As it stands, however, he knows he must persist.

He lets out a long, slow breath and clenches his fist, willing himself to push through the pain. Behind him, the dragon lets out a quiet huff, and he turns his attention to the creature. The dragon’s golden eyes shine in the night, watching him with a solemn understanding. Despite himself, the knight smiles as he lifts a hand and places it on the dragon’s muzzle, the beast leaning into his touch with a gravelly purr.

They both know they have more work to do come morning. There is no time to waste. The knight squares his shoulders, and he sees the dragon mirror his posture.

“Once more, my friend,” he murmurs. “We must return to the search.” The dragon clicks its tongue in agreement. They can only rest when their work is done, even if that day never comes.

[evegwood]

how do you atually write a script for a comic fhhhdhdhdh like do you write it the same as a movie script idk how to start

My basic system is using bulletpoints inside a table. Each table cell is a page, which is handy for planning page spreads, and each bulletpoint is a panel. This script also divvies up the scenes by colour so I can block out how long each scene is:

Because I'm the sole artist, I don't include any information that is obvious to me; that means expressions, poses, or individual panel sizes don't usually make it into the script. If there's something really dramatic and important I'll include it, but otherwise I tend to work out character poses when I'm thumbnailing or pencilling. I'm already kind of laying out the page in my mind when I'm writing so when I go back to actually draw it I'm like yeah I know exactly what face Vic is pulling here.

I do also have @spiremint on board now as colourist but because I don't really think in colour I don't have any notes for that in the script. Instead, I make notes on the inked/pencilled version of the page when I'm sending it to Spire for the colour script. Those notes will say stuff like the mood I'm going for, the weather, what happens in the scene so he can give me some cool alternate background colours. Spire never sees the script, it really is just for me when I'm pencilling/lettering, and then I discard it and work from what I have in front of me. It's a stepping stone tool, not a strict guideline of what the page should look like.

That's how I write a script, but you can write your script literally however you want! If it's just for you to read, you only need to include as much information as you find important. For some people that's everything because they either can't envision the scene without a description or because they want to make sure they don't miss anything important out, and for some people it's the most barebones thing imaginable. If it works for you, just do it!! You don't need to write a script like you would for a movie unless you really want to, or it's for someone else to see. Do you want to see the entirety of my script for the Chapter 5 lasertag scene?

Now here's a more helpful answer. I always start with an outline of what exactly needs to happen on each page so I don't need to work too hard figuring out how many panels should pass before I need a page break. Example:

You will probably want to think about three main things when putting your script together: dialogue, environment, and character. Each panel is an individual moment in time. That means you shouldn't have too many things happening in a single panel, and one panel should generally only have one dialogue moment, one environment note, and one character action. Someone can't jump up in alarm and then look relieved all in one panel, because that's two character actions (and would also be pretty difficult to draw but shh). A character shouldn't (can, but shouldn't) say they want to leave, then change their mind and ask for another drink all in one panel, because that's two dialogue moments. For environment notes, you really shouldn't have an explosion and the hidden treasure revealed all in one panel, because that's two environment notes. You don't need to stretch everything out into its own panel, but make sure you watch for too many things of the same category happening in one panel.

That's a lot of info, but I hope it helps!

--

I'm doing a little Q&A right now to celebrate the launch of the Inhibit: Book Two Kickstarter! If you have a question about Inhibit, comics in general, or anything else, shoot me an ask 🔥

[sempsimps]

Gregory Violet head cannons + NSFW

Season 4 of black butler has me thinking about a certain emo (Gregory not ceil but check out my friend @serve-corps if your into that) but like omfg he's so fine what for and like man wears lipstick I just he's so adorable I've never wanted to own the manga more in my life he's so- I should stop but like aaaaaa so this is head cannons mixed with actual cannon that was on the fandom wiki so that's fun I was thinking of writing a full story later but for now....

this is head cannons, and at the bottom, I'll have a warning for my nsfw thoughts. lol, just remember you're responsible for your Internet consumption, but before i get into this, it's all my opinions. Don't take it as gospel or anything like that, im having fun, alright? okay then.

Little head cannons

-he likes poetry. He gives that vibe like come on...(literally an hour later) Okay, so like, just seen a manga page of him drawing a jabberwocky around ceil like a sleep paralysis demon. a little back story on this particular poem is "a nonsensical poem about the killing of the jabberwocky" in 1871, apparently. this is very relatable to ceil and Gregory alike and like Google it for real (so like I was completely right about that and I didn't even know)

he smells like a mix of charcoal and acrylic paint like dusty but kinda nice, ya know (i go back to this further down)

-why dose he seem like he has autism, i cant explain it but, i have it to, so I'm not trying to be rude, but the bowtie he wears is like a normal tie but looser and nicer. and i hate ties, so i feel that in my soul. he also seems like he wouldn't like synthetic material idfk. also social situations suck, his voice is mostly monotone and quite, its not the typical "not understanding cues or not getting jokes" but its more like a social anxiety thing, and that's usually diagnosed with autism i think? (I'm not a doctor i don't really know. Maybe I'm projecting here a little)

-he's like defo bi or pan or perhaps an ace group. I'm not that educated on that lgbtq+ aspect apologies but that's the vibe (again, that's my opinion)

Dating head cannons male or female [brackets if pointed to someone with tits lol]

-bones. Need I say more? I like bones and rocks soooo be like, otters give him a bone (not like that-) or rocks he strikes me as a rock guy like smooth ones. idk how, but just get one he deserves it.

-painting dates if you struggle, he can easily guide you through it, his hand gently moving to help you use the right brush stroke. he's clearly more skilled in pencil/charcoal works, though we haven't seen much else [that takes skill and I take art like damn that's difficult]

-So apparently the sun and dancing makes him dizzy (it was on the fandom wiki) so definitely have water on hand and well he doesn't seem like the type to like anything plain becuse of the drink mixing so water is a no go to boring and i get that so grab one of those ball tea infusers and make flavoured water he can put the flavours in it like idk lemon slices and let it sit in the water maybe add suger (wait thats just flat lemonade lol whatever I'm a genius ik don't flatter me)

-stolen hoodie? Nah, stollen emo robe looking ass. it seems everyone in purple house has one, and well, yall could swap, or ya know, just wear his. if he has another obvious man is never seen without it, it could be a comfort for him. but like, he seems like he would have a bigger one, and it would smell so nice like charcoal and acrylic paint (that i mentioned earlier). Don't question it, but you can smell that, right? but there's a hint of passion fruit becuse he's trying for you (aw how cute) you can not tell me he doesn't like perfume and like its either passion fruit or cola adjacent like i know it probably wasn't around at the time but like you can see it (maybe i based this on a meme i found but shush)

-you paint each others nails need i say more? and even if you dont like/want to, he would just like to take time off with you to do his own or you do his. oh my god, I just remembered he wears eyeliner the same thing, but he likes you doing it. For some reason, you're better at it, and he doesn't want panda eyes.

-sneaking out at late to hide behind the boarding house, to just chill or chat, looking at the stars. It's a nice area, but yall gotta dodge the house master most of the time. Still, a little thrill never hurt nobody, just maybe given a Y or two if you're caught.

-hiding in your shoulder when the sun or people get too much to deal with. (I feel that so much)

-Gregory is a mix when it comes to pda. Overall, he doesn't like it could be a little overwhelming for him, but when yall with the other prefects, he might hold your hand, he's trying, and we love him for it.

-Gregory seems to observe his friends a lot, and so i think he truly values any relationships he has with anyone. on a whole, he usually draws people that are around him, like ceil, and i think i seen one of Lawrence. (idk i don't have the manga) so i think he would have a lot of sketches of you, be it in his work as doodles, or fully fledge charcoal drawings, maybe even a painting. but he values and enjoys being with you a lot.

-little snacks like fruit and chocolate almost like a picnic in the swan gazebo, but ya know not sharing with everyone unless Gregory wants to, also the fact your with the others in the swan gazebo is becuse, 1 your allowed to be there they've invited others before, 2 you get along with the prefects and drudges and they really don't care, 3 your either his drudge or the first two already applied before hand so you both seen no point in doing that.

okay, so i can't think of anything else wholesome to put down, and i just can't stop thinking, so now this is the warning I REPEAT NSFW BEOYNED THIS POINT!! ALSO HE IS 18-19 ACORDING TO GOOGLE

NSFW head cannons

- some general things, he's a switch or power bottom idk but i can see it so much he prefers you on top, though

-favourite body part would be chest. tits or not [but defo would love them so much like a stress toy] or the space between shoulder and neck, to hide in and bite....(he is a wolf lmao)

-right, so first off lipstick. oh my god... imagining it smeared in places and having prominent marks on your body made by him, like hickeys but removable. and like after he gives head, it would get so messed up on his face or you and just kissing him with it like that, getting some on your lips... (jesus, i need to touch grass)

-he likes art obviously, and well going back to the lipstick and hickeys, he wants to see what colour they turn, your like a brand new canvas just begging to be painted on by him, and honestly vice versa he's too pretty not to mark up..... (no comment)

-this is an all boys school they most likely don't have sex ed here and so you would have to teach him what to do but once he knows it kinda clicks right ya know [another reason i think he would just love titties becuse he wants to learn and i mean like he would get kinda fascinated with them] also he would be really sensitive in general and that's a great advantage to top (but hey you didnt hear that from me 0^0)

okay then that was that and ive run out of ideas now and i need to get this out of me ive got like 2 more things to write about this emo becuse i love and relate to him so much anyway hope that was good i try to be accurate even though this is head cannons and not real at all im still trying to be in character sorry if my writing sucks :)