#idk this is so crappy i'm sorry

[medilies]

GIF by mikewheeler

My brain every time I see this ^ shot:

"Get the goddamn pinky down!"

[dakyarie]

[zuiz41]

Taste in Music 🎧✨ (and Men 😏)

Iwaizumi's too stunned to speak.

[emeraldotter]

special eye boys

[fresanita]

Angel Dust Turns Human - Pg2

Part 1

I'm so sorry about the quality, idk what size the canvas should be when it comes to comics, this is technically my 1st one☹️. I PRAY it doesn't look crappy on other people's end💔

Anyways, I had drawn these 2 pages (technically 4ish with how I spread them out) within 3-2 days bc I just rlly wanted the idea to get done already🤲 Sorry if the pacing wasn't that good when I introduced Alastor - again, I don't know how to convey that in 'comic form' (?) since this is my 1st, but I tried😔 (it probably needed more frames/pics but I was rlly lazy).

If you couldn't tell (☹️), Alastor & Angel Dust have some backstory (!!!) - Alastor didn't realize until he saw his human form, which looks very different from his Hell form. The majority of this is in Angel's pov, so this is kinda unreliable narrator, in a way. I need to mention, idk if anyone's written/drawn anything w a human in Hell, but my first thought was they'd definitely pass out from the heat usually portrayed - hence the heat exhaustion; Angel kinda passes out before he could fully react. Btw, I don't like how I drew Angel on pg6 so let's ignore it🙏

Also, Alastor pronounces his name as "Anton��", or An-tone-nee, with emphasis on the last sylabel, which is why it's spelled with an accented "i" - I just forgot to use that when I wrote the dialouge💔

My fav thing to draw was him holding Angel's face and carrying him, Parental Alastor fans RISE✊️!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Why Not Me? | 1

Part 2

Love is beautiful. Love is lovely. But lately, to you, love is a form of self-harm.

Rockstar!Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, Modern AU, low key fix-it-fic, canon divergence, DD:DNE, body dysmorphia, body shaming, smut (cunnilingus, piv, biting, marking, licking, they're messy yall), fluff, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: THIS INCESTUOUS SHOW i changed the family tree for the sake of this fic and ive FIXED EVERYTING SHUT UP you cant do anything about it anyway ok ok ok. im half sorry it became so long. idk how many parts i wil do T_T save me. also i cross posted this on ao3 MASTERLIST/PLAYLIST

Tagging: @ceoofyearning @pendragora @worms-on-multiple-strings @barbieaemond

You can hear the live music playing from the inside your car. You take a deep breath and look at yourself on your phone before stepping out. You smile and fix your hair, "maximum slayage has been achieved."

You exit the camera app, catching the text icon when you do. You bite your lip. Your thumb itches. You open it, checking the last message you have that you've not replied to.

From Harwin: Are you at your sister's already? Can we call?

You clench your jaw and place your phone in your purse. You sling your purse on your shoulder and grab the cake on the passenger seat. You tell yourself to forget about the text as you walk towards the open gate of the white picket fence.

You smile at the garden, happy to see it in real life again and not just during video calls. You brush off your iridescent, pink dress before ringing the doorbell. As you wait, you look around the neighborhood. All the houses here were as expensive as the one next to it.

The door opens. You turn back and grin as Alicent squeals, "YOU'RE HERE!"

"I'M HERE!"

She can't help but kiss your cheek before leading you inside. You talk and walk, and the moment you set the cake down, your best friend immediately seals you into a hug, both of you squealing.

When you break away, you lift your eyes to the chandelier and point, "is that the new chandelier?"

Alicent beams and spins beneath her beloved light source, "yes! I swear to the Mother if someone fucks up my chandelier again-"

"Oh, ho, ho, ho!"

Both of you turn to the man waltzing in with horrible dance moves, "speak of the devil." Viserys walks over to you, coming in for a hug, "she returns! Alicent's been waiting on you for ages."

You share a hug while Alicent makes a face, "can you blame me? She works at the fucking edge of the world!"

You pull away and raise a hand, "okay, one, dramatic-"

"No it's not," she red haired woman crosses her arms, "you literally work next to Harrenhal."

"That is a gross simplification," you wave your hand, "and two, why don't you visit me for a change?"

"In your shitty apartment?" she makes a disgusted face, "no."

You make an offended noise and glare at Viserys, "you've turned her into a stinky bourgeoisie!"

Viserys makes a face and Alicent shakes hear head. She places a hand on your shoulder, "no babes. Your apartment is simply crappy."

You make another offended noise and shake her hand off. You turn back to her fiance, "anyway. Happy birthday, Viserys!" you motion to the box on the counter.

"Is that what I think it is?" he gasps.

You scoff for effect, "yah."

Viserys opens the box and makes a dramatic sound at the sight of the chocolate cake. He turns to Alicent, who shakes her head and sniggers. The man whisper-yells, "triple chocolate cake!!!"

You laugh. Your best friend repeats, "triple chocolate cake. Now what do we say?"

Viserys seals you into a tight hug. You squeal when he pulls you up enough for your feet to leave the floor. He groans excitedly as he puts you down, "oh, you are perfect, my dear. Thank you so much."

The overly affectionate gesture leaves you a bit awkward, but you play it off with a chuckle, "you're welcome."

Alicent clicks her tongue when Viserys swipes some frosting and licks his fingers, "Viserys. Get a plate."

"Oh, fuck, I feel like I'm in uni again," he sighs at the sweet taste, "should I grow out my hair?" He rubs the trimmed sides of his hair.

Alicent cringes, "absolutely not. You looked like a sickly lord in uni."

"But love-"

"Oh, I knew you were here."

You look over your shoulder. Your stomach drops. You shift awkwardly as Daemon walks towards you with a grin. "Figured from Alicent's squealing," he says before pulling you into a hug.

He rubs your sides and it makes you feel overly conscious. You mutter as he pulls away, "how've you been, Daemon?"

"You know me-"

"High as a fucking kite?" Viserys answers for him as he takes a slice of cake.

Daemon flips him off but smiles at you, "just dandy, love. And you?"

"Oh, you know, wet."

Alicent slaps a hand on her forehead.

Viserys snorts.

Daemon raises his brows.

You realize your mistake and backtrack, "n- no- I mean, cause- cause Riverlands!"

He snorts and your body tingles. He shakes his head and sighs, "and here I thought it was because of me."

Alicent raises her brows and takes that as a cue to leave. She pulls Viserys back, who whines because he hadn't gotten his cake yet. She slaps his arm and lies about needing to check on something.

"Did you bring someone?" Daemon asks.

Your stomach rolls at the insinuation he was interested in knowing if you had a date. You dramatically look around, "do you see anyone?"

He purses his lips and shakes his head, "well, I was hoping your sister would come around."

You stiffen. Your sister? You manage a chuckle to play off the stinging in your gut; it doesn't sting any less though. You half-smile, "Mysaria's in Lys."

He raises his brows, "still?"

You knit your brows, "still?"

"I just figured her vacation would be done by now."

You feel your eye twitch. You raise a finger, "how'd you know she's on vacation?"

Daemon simply shrugs, "I follow her on Unstagram."

A scoff spills from your lips as your brows raise, "she let you follow her?"

"Yeah," he shakes his head and furrows his brows, "why wouldn't she?"

You clench your jaw. You feel your skin crawl. It's as though your body was being stretched into oblivion. You press your lips into a tight smile and rub your belly as your agitation builds. You shake your head and shrug, "I didn't think you were that close. She's pretty private."

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then his attention is stolen by the sound from outside.

"This next song is called Breathless," followed my cheering.

His expression shifts. He throws his thumb over his shoulder, "shit. I uh... I have something-"

You nod before he can finish and Daemon effectively runs off.

Once you're alone, you let it catch up with you, the loathing, the disgust. You look around you and feel bile rise up your throat. Everything was beautiful. Everything was pristine and put together. From the color of the walls, to the furniture, even to the tiny pieces of décor.

This is Alicent's dream home. She found a man that loved her and he got her that white picket fence she's always wanted. She's living her dreams because... she's someone's dream girl.

You walk towards the mirror in the common room and stare at yourself. The makeup you spent hours on and the sundress you overindulged in now looked lack luster. Whatever convincing you did in the car has gone. You think about Alicent. You chuckle bitterly as you think of your sister, "oh, Mysaria." You were nothing but a disgusting blob, next to the statuesque her.

You grow angry at yourself when your eyes water. You pace around to calm yourself, "it's fine. I just won't eat any sweets." You force a smile at the mirror, "or carbs," you fix your hair, "I'll just have a bev. I ate already anyway."

When you no longer feel like crying, you let yourself join everyone outside.

Your eyes immediately fall at the platform and band setup across the large backyard. Viserys really went all out; there were lights, a sound system, and everything.

You try to make out the band playing. You immediately recognize Criston in his cream colored suit playing the bass, though his hair was snipped short and he had massive shades on. You knew Aemond was a guitarist but there was only a blonde with short platinum hair on the keys, and he never cut his hair, so you debated if it was really him in that leather suit jacket. But then you saw Aegon and his shaggy, jaw length hair, drumming yet again sans shirt showcasing all his tattoos and figured the other blonde had to be his brother.

Then, of course, there was Gwayne. If you couldn't recognize him by his guitar playing, or his distinct baritone, then you would by smirk and auburn hair. You sure did. There was a bit of sheen on his forehead, but even then he moved as cool as a cucumber. He looked good in his dark blue suit. I mean, they all did.

You remember Alicent talking about how excited Viserys was to have Oldtown play for his birthday, how they cleared their schedule and all. Though you weren't a close follower, you somehow felt proud of them, having watched them perform in shitty bars a couple times in university. To see them have the success they do now makes you feel honored to have been one of the few people who said they were going to make it. And judging by how people were singing along, they made it.

You were agitated by the size of the crowd. It still baffled you how many friends the Viserys had, but then your remember he's an old money businessman... and an extrovert. You rub your stomach as you search for Alicent. You spot her alone, cringing by the buffet table as she poured herself a drink. Immediately, your anxieties dissipate because of her and her unabashed dislike for her brother's music.

You walk over to her and sway your hips exaggeratedly to song. Alicent stills when she sees you, and makes a revolted sound before raising her pointer, "stop it."

"Nuh uh," you throw your hands in the air and move your hips, "it's a good song!"

Alicent rolls her eyes, which only makes you laugh.

From across the yard, Gwayne's attention is stolen. He watches how light catches in your pink skirt as you grind against his sister, much to her disgust. He smiles between lyrics, making the crowd react.

"Oh, come on, babes," you watch as your best friend chugs her drink, "you have to at least be proud of your brother."

Alicent shakes her head, "I am! I'm so glad that people like his music enough that he can perform it somewhere far away from me."

You turn to the buffet table when you catch the aroma of your favorite stew. You gulp but tell yourself you shouldn't eat. You decide to pour yourself a drink.

She catches you, "you want me to get you a plate? I ordered your favorite-"

"No," you shake your head, " 'm just thirsty."

She knits her brows, skeptical of your words as she was aware of your destructive tendencies. She decides believe your reassurance, though her gut was telling her otherwise.

She turns back to Oldtown and catches her brother looking. She shakes her head and flips him off. Gwayne chuckles, not because of her though, because you finally turn around. This entices another reaction from the crowd, which Alicent wretches over.

You sip on some punch and shoot her a look, "oh, stop being so sour, baby."

She glares and points, "you try listening to your brother and your cousins sing about the women they've shagged and tell me then if being I'm sour."

You bite your lower lip, but break into a laugh anyway, "you got me there."

Alicent's eyes widen for emphasis, "yeah. And I don't even mind it when people ask me about 'em, but I really, really don't want to know how badly you want to fuck my brother."

You laugh again, no longer holding back this time.

She laughs along. She loves seeing you this way, "you look absolutely stunnin' in your dress, by the way."

The compliment flies over your head.

"Pink is 100% your color," she says with genuine enthusiasm.

You sigh and offer a smile, "it better. This dress costs me a fucking arm."

"Well, it does," Alicent affirms, "you look like a fucking queen."

Your heart swells. Yet again, your best friend breaks into your layer of self-hatred. You nod and agree for her sake, "I really do."

The next moment, the crowd breaks into applause, signaling the end of the song. You cheer along, though you hadn't really paid attention. You turn to the stage and find Gwayne looking your way. You smile and he smirks back.

Gwayne pushes back his strapped guitar and grabs the mic, "thank you. I hope you all enjoyed our set." He shields his eyes as he looks through the crowd. He points once he spots Viserys, "happy birthday again to you, brother."

Alicent claps with the crowd. Viserys laughs as his friends shake him wildly.

"Thank you so much for your endless support, and your endless money." Gwayne chuckles before motioning, "it's been Criston, Aemond, Aegon, and-" he places a hand on his chest, "- Gwayne. We are Oldtown, and you have been a wonderful crowd."

You applaud as the band gets off the stage. They settle their instruments with their stage riders and you look back to Alicent. Before you can speak, her eyes widen as she takes a sip, "idiot in coming."

You look back where she was, brows quirking in surprise when you see her brother jogging over.

Gwayne immediately tries to snatch Alicent's drink, but as she anticipated it, she effectively dodges then chugs. He groans, "oh, thoughtful."

She manages to make a face as she gulps. Some liquid dribbles from the sides of her mouth.

"And classy," her brother's forehead wrinkles.

You chuckle at their antics and shake your head, deciding to pour the man a drink yourself.

Gwayne gives his sister an annoyed look when she sighs for effect. She wipes the corner of her mouth, "it's my drink."

"I would at least expect-" his words falter when he realizes you weren't even beside him. He cranes his neck to look at you before looking to his sister, "-you'd be willing to share after I've slaved away for your pleasure."

"Oh, I can assure you I found no pleasure in this. And have you been so out of practice 8 songs is slaving away for you?"

Gwayne chuckles but is uninterested in continuing the argument; his interest was never in his sister to begin with. He turns to you, digging his hands in his pockets, "and who might you be?"

Alicent turns between the two of you then deadpans, "seriously?"

Gwayne smirks. In his head, his sister's reaction is of being a protective friend. He's admittedly had flings with her friends before, but he's never been deterred by his baby sister's wrath.

But the truth is, that's not at all the reason why Alicent shakes her head incredulously, "my friend from college, you absolute goldfish."

He furrows his brows at Alicent.

At this point, you procure a cup of punch for Gwayne and hand it to him with a smile. He looks at you then the drink you're holding out. He takes it with a smirk, making sure your hands brush as you do. Oh, he is smitten.

None of that registers to you. You return his smirk with a genuine smile.

It doesn't register with Alicent either, which is why she complains about something else entirely. Her lips curl, "you've done it now. You've fed his ego. He's going to be insufferable."

You shake your head and laugh.

Gwayne licks his lips, laughing along, body tingling at the sweet sound of your voice. He does not look his sister at all as he replies, "I've always been insufferable."

You catch his look. Alicent rolls her eyes, "oh, thank gods he's at least self-aware."

Again, Gwayne reacts; he chuckles, but his eyes do not leave you. He shakes his head, "did you transfer after I graduated?"

You knit your brows at the notion, "no," you chuckle, "I'm actually your junior. I took Music Production at King's Landing too."

His face falls and his brows raise.

You chuckle brighter as you nod, "yeah... we were even classmates in, what, two subjects?"

Gwayne wipes his face. You laugh at his stressed expression. "No fucking kidding," he clutches his jaw. He shakes his head again, "what classes did we share?"

You press your lips together in thought, "the... one with Mr. Boldwood."

"Are you serious?" he mutters, "the one where we scored horror films?"

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember you added sound effects instead of music and Mr. Boldwood was like, yeah don't do that, it's a scoring class, not an SFX class."

Gwayne runs his hands through his auburn hair and tugs on the collar of his dress shirt. He loosens his tie as he sighs. By the Seven, how does he not remember you?

You laugh and wave him off, "it's not that big of a deal. You were always too tired to talk in class."

That was true.

"No, it is," Alicent blurts, and he agrees. "Make him feel bad for not remembering you," she shoots him a look, "I literally went to one of your concerts with her, you imbecile. The one where you forgot your guitar and we had to drive-"

"To Highgarden?" Gwayne's jaw slacks.

"Yes, to Highgarden."

Oh, he is stressed.

You feel bad, and shake your head, "to be fair, I wasn't there when she gave you your guitar. I was the one driving and didn't get out because I didn't want to get towed."

Gwayne nods. He watches how your brows quirk and how your lips curl.

You assure him once more, "it's fine. Really... and anyway-"

"Oh, you stop it," Alicent cuts you off.

You turn to her, "but it's tru-"

"No, it's not!"

"I usually just fade in the background of people's minds. I'm not very memorable."

"You are!" Alicent argues, "Gwayne's just an fucking idiot."

Gwayne points at her, "and I am completely agreement."

Before you can respond, Daemon suddenly walks into the conversation. You turn to him, seizing up as he brushes against your shoulder. You turn to your drink and step back. Daemon says, "Viserys is asking about the mixer and-"

"Did he touch the damn mixer?" Alicent says, "I told him not-"

"I told him the same thing," he raises his hands.

She groans and rolls her eyes. She raises a hand in regard before walking off, "gimme a sec."

Daemon follows her. Your eyes follow him, allowing yourself to look a while longer than you should have.

You best believe Gwayne catches it all. His lips twitch and his brows pull back in annoyance. He mutters pointedly, "so Daemon, huh?"

You turn to him, "w-what?"

He chuckles dryly at your coyness. He takes a sip before glaring at the said man, "so you have a thing for annoying cunts?"

Your face falls.

He shakes his head before tilting it, "the imbecile has no redeeming qualities. It's an anomaly why woman chase after him." He scoffs, expression growing even more bitter, "probably his money." He drinks some more punch, cringing at how sweet it was, then finally turns back to you.

He is both annoyed yet subtly amused by how affected you are by his dislike for the Targaryen rat. He sighs, "for what it's worth he, himself, thinks I'm also an annoying cunt."

You raise your brows, realizing he wasn't just saying this. Then out of nowhere, you find it incredibly stupid and downright hillarious.

Gwyane finds his expression softening at the sound of your laughter. His annoyance did not wane, but still, he smirks and brings a hand into his pocket, "switch to me instead."

You laughter dies down but it's too late, you weren't paying attention. You shake your head, "I'm sure he doesn't actually think that."

"Oh, trust me, he does."

You wipe a tear, "no way. He's actually a closeted Oldtown fan."

Gwayne laughs, loud and mocking. The taken aback giggle that leaves you is the only reason he actually starts laughing genuinely. He clutches his side and moves towards the table, "is he now?"

You watch him put his drink down, "he is! He practically ran out of the door when he heard you announce the last song."

He sniggers, "pathetic bastard," he steps closer, "but who can blame him? I quite like Breathless myself." He brushes his lips and looks you up and down, "though I much prefer someone who dances to my songs unabashedly."

You smile, unaware of him still, "oh, I'm sure you do."

Gwayne, in truth, is also unware of you, far too wrapped up in the way you smiled and how your skin glowed in this light. In his head, this conversation was going swimmingly, because when has it ever not— Which is why he says, "let's go dancing in my bedroom."

You do a double take. Your jaw drops, "I beg your pardon."

He tilts his head, "I have about a hundred records and a vinyl player. I'm sure your dress would look even prettier under my lights."

When he takes another step forward, only then do realize what's happening. His stance. His eyes. His lips. It's all coming together. It stabs into your belly and you're suddenly bleeding all over yourself.

Your breath hitches. He catches it, and causes the corner of his lips to quirk. He is pleased. "What do you say?" he leans on one leg and brings his hands in his pockets.

What do you say?

You say you were still reeling from your sobering encounter with Daemon. Of course you always knew he was a playboy and he slept around, of course you knew he would never be seriously interested in you, but realizing any sort of interest he had in the first place was because of your sister again— it doesn't hurt you any less. It hurts you more each time. The next second, you are reminded of every man who's ever shown you interest and recall what they really wanted from you.

And as your mind raced with these thoughts and the sight of Gwayne Hightower— multi-award winning Gwayne Hightower, front cover of Rogue magazine Gwayne Hightower, Oldtown hearthrob Gwayne Hightower-

"Alicent doesn't have to know," he mutters and shrugs.

Oh.

He gives a lopsided smile.

If you somehow didn't know before, you know now exactly what he wanted from you.

You turn to your feet. But Harwin...

You scoff at yourself. Who were you joking?

You feel pathetic enough for you to look up and say, "okay."

Gwayne examines your face. He notices how your expression shifted but still, his smile spreads. He reaches a hand to you and you take it without a second thought.

You walk off and you don't even bother looking for Alicent at all. Before you leave, you do encounter his cousin, Aegon. Your eyes lock as you pass each other, and so you decide to smile at him, "nice tats, Aeg."

He freezes and watches as you and Gwayne leave.

Gwayne raves as he drives, telling you about The White Walkers, how it was his favorite band and how excited he was when Oldtown got to play with them. He rambles some more before asking you about your tastes. You brush him off at first, uninterested in indulging conversation.

You shake your head, "it's not very interesting."

"I'm pretty sure I get to decide what I find interesting or not."

You watch him give you that trademark smirk of his and you want to so badly believe he wasn't just saying that to get in your pants.

You don't but you humor him, "I'm more of a jazz sort of person."

"Aha," he maneuvers the steering wheel, "so extended chords and irregular tempos get you going?"

You lean into the passenger seat and smile, "don't forget nonfunctional harmony."

His dimples deepen. He takes a turn, "so what, you're too good for The White Walkers?"

"I did not say that."

"Well," he sighs deeply, "you don't seem to want to say much so I'm going to have to make things up as I go."

You shake your head and roll your eyes at him. You look out the window and miss the way he smiles at you.

"Fine," you start, "there's an artist called Khiara. She's makes incredible music. She's Lengii, and she infuses a lot of her native sound in her music. It's stunning."

He nods, "Khiara."

"Yeah..." you give him a passing smile before looking away again, "she's great."

"I'm sure she is."

He did not mean it in a mocking way, but it comes across to you as such. You scoff and resign to watching the buildings pass.

"Are you a jazz musician by taste and profession?"

You roll your eyes at his adamance at small talk, "I'm a music teacher."

His brows quirk, "what? No way, that's-"

"Underwhelming?" you look back at him.

"Cool," he spares you a look before bringing his eyes back on the road, "you teach jazz?"

"I teach 4th graders."

"Even better," he smiles, "I couldn't teach a dog to bark even if I tried so, consider me impressed."

"Mmm. I'll add it to my CV."

He snorts.

You look out the window again, "that one rockstar is impressed by me."

He leans an elbow on the car door and brushes his lips as he chuckles. Gods, you were a dream.

When you reach his apartment, you realize just how much of a rockstar he really was. His place was huge, and he had such eccentric furnishing, from a full on display of a suit of armour, to posters of obscenely niche bands. They didn't make sense and yet they fit perfectly together. And when he said he had a hundred records in his bedroom, you think he was actually playing it down.

You both take your shoes off before entering his bedroom. Gwayne leads you by the hand and motions to his collection, "I'm sure I have something here that's jazzy enough for you."

You raise your brows at him and pull away, effectively stopping him in his tracks before he can go through his records.

His brow quirks, "what is it?"

"Did you really take me home to dance in your bedroom?"

Gwayne chuckles as you walk past him. He eyes your body as you inch towards his bed and sequentially sit by the foot. You place your hands on your knees and raise your brows at him. He licks his lips and shrugs, "did 'dancing in my bedroom' sound like an innuendo to you?"

You scoff out a chuckle and roll your eyes, "you really are an annoying cunt."

Gwayne lowers his gaze, licking his teeth. He saunters over, hands in his pockets. He stops once he is directly in front of you, "do you want me to stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Being an annoying cunt?"

"I want you to stop wasting my time," you retort, "unlike you, I work a 9-5."

He laughs, dropping his head. He raises his hands in surrender, "damn. Where did you come from? You were so smiley and sweet not even an hour ago."

You forfeit a response and simply lean back on the bed.

That wipes the smile off his face. He looks down on you, feeling his breath grow heavy at your expression. He clenches his jaw, undoes his tie, and drops to his knees.

You can't stop your lips from parting.

He rubs his hands up your shins, measuring your reaction. You simply watch as his hands disappear underneath your skirt. Your breath hitches when he squeezes your thighs. Gwayne pushes closer, and you wouldn't have minded, had he not kissed your knee.

"Wait," you reach out to his head.

Gwayne gulps as he looks up at you, eager to know where he went wrong.

"No kissing," you mutter.

He hears it, repeats it in head, then repeats it out loud, "no kissing?"

You bite your lip and stroke his cheek, "no kissing."

It takes a moment for him to realize you were being serious, and when he does, he slowly nods, repeating again, "no kissing."

You nod and straighten up. You brush your hands up his arms then proceed to unbutton his white dress shirt, "you can bite, you can lick," you lick your lips on cue, "I'll even let you spit on me—"

"Mmm, fuck."

"—but no kissing." You slip your hands into his shirt, "you good with that, Hightower?"

"Fuck," he hooks his hands behind your knees and tugs you forward. You squeak and grip his shoulders. He slots himself between your legs, "no kissing anything?"

Your breath strains when his nails drag up the inside of your thighs, trailing to your waistband. Your brush your noses together, shaking your head, "anything."

He hisses, baring his teeth. He is unbelievably compelled to kiss you. He knocks his nose into your cheek, nostrils flaring, jaw muscles feathering. He breathes against your ear, "not even here, pretty girl?"

You feel his fingers brush across your soft belly and sink past your navel. You whimper when his fingers press into your core. He tuts and bites your neck at your attempt to you close your legs, "nah, ah, ah, ah. No fair. You need to play fair with me, sweetheart."

You rest your head on his toned shoulder. You squeeze his biceps, taking a moment to relax before willingly parting your legs.

He makes a pleased sound, "good girl," he nips your earlobe, "now, say it for me. Will you play fair?"

You sigh against his trapezius as your hand clutches his neck. You lick his skin before biting and whimpering, "yes."

"Seven gods," he groans, turning to kiss you. He tilts your head back, lips nearly landing on yours, but the sight of your smeared lipstick reminds him that he can't. His mind raceswith all the things he wants to do you. He starts by smearing your lipstick with his thumb and biting your lips.

You whimper and push him by the chest.

He licks your cheek and shakes his head, "I'm not kissing you, baby."

You dig your fingers into his hair and pull him back, "annoying fucking cunt."

He laughs and pulls away. His hair is messy and your stomach drops when he swipes the lipstick on his thumb on his lower lip, "I am. Now lie down." He bunches your skirt up.

You refuse to fully lie down, wanting, no, needing to see him. His eyes stay fixed on yours as his nails bite your thighs and his teeth stake their claim. He shakes his head, nose brushing against you, "told you to lie down."

"Mmm," you comb the hair out of his face, "want to see your pretty face."

He smirks and rids you of your underwear, throwing it somewhere in the room, "we'll see."

Gwayne sinks into you, his tongue and lips lapping into your folds. He works with confidence and feasts in a way that makes you writhe. You are powerless against his finesse. Your breath strains as you fall on the bed. He grips your hips, keeping you from moving too much, and you are never not amazed at just how strong men can be, "mmm, 's what I thought."

Before you know it, all you can do is arch your back, tug his hair, and call out his name. It only inspires him to be more diligent. He basks in the power he has over you. He moans as you become increasingly frantic and curses when you come undone all over his mouth.

He allows you momentary repose as he rises from your legs. You look up at him, heart racing as he licks his lips. Fuck, he was beautiful. You wipe the sheen off his chin and feel your stomach drop when he licks your thumb.

Let it never be said that Gwayne Hightower is a talentless prick. Go say what you want about how he sings and speaks, but gods, the man can use his mouth.

It was both so quick and not quick enough until you're both naked. Gwayne has to make the conscious decision to leave bites on your skin instead of kisses, and you suppose this is the reason why he ends up trapped beneath you. You take advantage of his distraction and lose yourself as you ride him, unabashedly bouncing on his hips as your hands reveled in his toned belly. He squeezes every part of you he can get his hands on, relishing the firmness of your hips, the delicateness of your breasts, the softness of you. It was in these moments you didn't mind your build, knowing well these mortal men looked at you like a goddess.

He can't help himself and sits up to graze your skin. He leaves marks all over your throat and nips your lips every time you drive him wild with your noises. He thinks about how badly he wants you to stain his mouth with your lipstick, and in that moment, you push him back and shift your weight into his shoulders.

He curses for the nth time and brings one hand up to the base of your neck. You lean into his touch. His thumb brushes over your lips and you suck on his finger. It makes him claw at the small of your back with his other hand.

Gwayne watches the way your body quakes at the force of your actions. He commits the sight to memory as he feels his belly tighten. He pulls his thumb away with a pop and aids your movements with the thrust of his hips. You call his name out like a mantra as you feel pressure building inside you.

And then it was hot and electric. And then you felt yourself melt into a burning mess as slowly your bones turned to jelly.

You fall into his chest and catch your breath. You can feel both your hearts racing with your sweaty skin pressed together like this.

Gwayne wipes his face and brushes his hair back, mind hazy, mouth dry. Before he can bring an arm around you, you're pushing yourself up and climbing off him. He turns to your side, expecting you to lie next to him, but you make him knit his brows when you grab your dress from the floor, "where's your bathroom?"

He rolls on his belly and points, "just outside."

You cover yourself with your dress and pick up your underwear. You quickly find the bathroom and open the light. You give yourself a jumpscare when you catch reflection on the mirror.

You look like you were caught in a violent accident, with your hair messy and your lipstick in places you didn't expect. You body looked horrendous, worse under this lighting. You gulp and wonder how horny Gwyane must have been to want to take you home. You feel pathetic. You feel nasty. It's no wonder why no one's seriously interested in you. You were a disgusting fat fuck who's only point of interest is her pussy.

You wash yourself as much as you can, get dressed, and take a few deep breaths before exiting.

When you step back into his bedroom, you hear music playing. Was that-

"Khiara," Gwayne says, still sprawled on his belly, butt naked. His eyes are on his phone, "she is incredible."

You look around for your purse, wondering if it was here on in his car.

He turns to you when you do not respond, his expression dropping upon seeing you dressed. He sits up, "is something wrong?"

You spot your purse and smile to yourself, "nope. Just need to call an Ubor."

He watches you grab your purse and pull out your phone. It takes a moment for him to register what was happening. His pride is wounded, "you're not going to stay?"

"Like I said, nine to fi-"

"Tomorrow's Sunday," he leans into his thighs.

You glance at him, catching his sullen expression.

"Don't go."

You ignore the bubbling in your stomach. You chew your lip and walk towards him. He watches you intently. You rest your knee on his thigh, and he immediately straightens up to grab your hips. You take his chin and look at the mess on him, your lipstick, your slick, your spit, then whisper, "I've got things to do."

He rubs your sides, "do they do you better than me?"

Neither of you react.

You think about the convenience store you passed on the drive here. You decide you can wait for your Ubor there and pull away from him, "this was really fun, rockstar."

Gwayne huffs, lowers his gaze, and pinches the bridge of his nose, "no, wait-"

"Good night," you walk off.

He grabs his pants, "let me drive you home."

You ignore him and rush to his door, "good night."

"Wait, dammit!"

You sigh in relief once you're out his home. You forfeit the elevator and head to the stairwell. Halfway through your descent, the door above slams open, and you look up to see a frantic looking Gwayne.

"Really?! The stairs?!"

You wrap your arms around yourself, watching him runs down to you. His face is still messy. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his pants aren't zipped. He sighs, shaking his hands, "what?! what? Am I a bad driver?"

You bite your lip and shake your head.

He huffs and waves a hand, "am I a bad lover?"

Your stomach rolls. You turn to your feet, "I wouldn't know, you're not my lover-"

"Fuck- am I a bad... fuck- sexual partner!" he blurts, zipping his pants then adjusting his shoes.

"No," you chuckle guiltily, "you were... you were amazing-"

"Rate it 1 to 10," he begins to button his shirt.

You look up at him incredulously and sigh, "Gwayne, I just really want to go home."

"Then stop bruising my ego and let me take you home," he shakes his hands in frustration. You stare at each other for a moment. The look on his face makes you want to be swallowed by the ground. You go down a few steps, and Gwayne steps once before sighing. He places his hands in his pockets, "I just... I thought it was going really well."

I look up at him.

He another step forward.

Your mind races. You can't help but relive all your bad memories in this moment. The sheen on his chest tells you bad this is going to hurt if you dive into it. Gods, fucking around with someone in Oldtown? You shrug, "it was, I think."

"Then," he steps forward and grabs your shoulders, "let's at least end it on a good note." You watch him motions with his head, "and let's take the fucking lift while we're at it."

He heads for the door. You suck in a breath and simply go down.

Gwayne holds the door for you and does a double take when he sees you walking off "seriously?"

"Stairs or nothing, buddy. I need the cardio."

"Well, if it's cardio you want," he rushes after you, "I am happy to help."

You glare at him once he's beside you.

Gwayne chuckles at it, feigning a look of innocence, "I have a treadmill in my flat. I don't know what you're thinking, dirty girl." You roll your eyes, making him laugh, "well, I mean I do, you practically jumped me."

"Oh, what, like you didn't think of it."

He gasps, "I am a gentleman."

"Mmm, you must think you're cute."

"Not nearly as cute as you," he grabs your arm once you reach the next door in the stairwell, "now for the love of the Mother, let's fucking take the lift."

[eybefioro]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @ghostsparrow 💛💛💛

The TNAN server hosted a secret santa, and Sparrow said he love pirates AUs and space AUs. I immediately thought about treasure planet, so here it is <3 thank you @captainblou for organising it!!!

Wacky races - fairly odd parents - powerpuff girls - scooby doo - adventure time - Cowardly dog - JJBA

(Time-lapse and ramblings under the cut)

Extra long Time-lapse this time as a THREAT.

I remember NOTHING about Treasure Planet's plot, but the ✨️Aesthetics✨️ are seared in my brain forever. I mean-

HOW COOL IS THAT. I love this retrofuturistic(?) Style, the mix between robots and cyborgs and SPACE with uniforms and SHIPS. It's just soooooo good.

I didn't really followed 100% this Disney style, more the idea of it. I've been trying to find my footing and draw stuff without replicating each stylistic choice. Idk if I succeed or not but it was fun!

One thing about this is that even if it's not perceptible here, the perspective is a bit huh... different. I had to figure it out by trial and error, and this end up having 4 focal points.

(Sorry this prob doesn't make that much sense but it was the only way for me to show it lol)

DO YOU SEE THOSE NICE RED AND GREY LINES?? I learned how to use rulers on ibispaint and NOW I AM UNSTOPPABLE. I know how to draw perspective by hand, on paper, but on my phone it was impossible. The screen is too small, and the precision too crappy since I don't have a proper pen. But now with this thing I can assure the line is straight and that direction is right, and now I can do nice perspectives hell yes!

This drawing I did of muriel and Eric is were I was testing stuff out. The rulers, the perspective, the not copying any style thing.

I'm not super satisfied with the end result of this perspective here, bc I wanted to make something more warped, more dynamic/stretched but I really don't know how to do that yet so simple perspective it is lol

This drawing was also supposed to accompany a fic, but it took me too long to do this, so I didn't had the time to write it. Maybe one day...

Now with details that I liked:

STAR FRECKLES THAT FLOAT OVER CROWLEY'S FACE! Also he needs sunscreen. Have tou seen his thighs? LMAO

The rendering g on Aziraphale’s clothes! Especially the trousers. I think this might be my best clothes that I painted so far. I'm getting better at this :D I was inspired by Aziraphale’s bastille and Edinburgh looks, + Mr Fell magician cape (and also the uniforms from treasure planet). I hope it looks OK in the end, I had too much fun mixing all this together lol

Earth colonised by two opposing forces. I spent too long playing with this concept and how to draw it lol I hope it looks nice!

[leokatto]

This just sitting on my sketchbook and I really want to post this but I was socially exhausted that time, now here we are :D

So I'm trying to consistently post more here too cuz me creative juice is flowing but also trying to make this account more active cuz it's pretty much dead I think lol so yeah (but idk school hates me but still I'm gonna try my best >:3)

(also I'm sorry with the crappy camera quality I think I didn't clean my phone cam properly lol)

[summercourtship]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open. 

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly. 

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town. 

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?” 

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.” 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.” 

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.” 

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time. 

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought. 

__

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination. 

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.” 

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee. 

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you. 

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.” 

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by. 

“That would be nice, thanks.” 

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street. 

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows. 

“...Go away.” 

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t. 

“What do you want?” 

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room. 

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim. 

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.  

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there. 

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both). 

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens. 

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using. 

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn. 

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.  

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head. 

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room. 

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him. 

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly. 

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it. 

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”  

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else. 

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you. 

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.” 

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again. 

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?” 

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours. 

“I didn’t. I don’t.” 

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek? 

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.” 

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts. 

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.  

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Stay still.” 

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens. 

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips. 

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently? 

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin. 

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body. 

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. 

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit. 

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment. 

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation. 

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth. 

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool. 

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.” 

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it. 

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore. 

[ron456]

AHHHHH- IM SO SICK OF THE BS I SWEAR-

FIRST OF ALL-

He doesn't "act naturally" or "normal" because HE'S AUTISTIC-

Will Roland portrays him as AUTISTIC so he's gonna act AUTISTIC-

ALSOOOO- IT'S BROADWAY, BABE- THEY NEED TO BE OVERDRAMATIC AND VERY EXPRESSIVE OTHERWISE THE PREFORMANCE DOESN'T CARRY THROUGH THE WHOLE THEATRE-

AND ANOTHER THING- Jeremy is supposed to be a "loser"-

he gets bullied and is misunderstood by his peers because he is, well, NOT CHILL-

HE'S "CHALANT" AS HELL-

He gets bullied because he cares about things too much, he's anxious, he's loud-

And in regards to the "can't hold a note for too long"- have you heard Loser, Geek, Whatever? Or More Than Survive? Or Two Player Game??? Song where he holds notes for quite a long time- ALSO- to say that Will Roland can't reach the same notes as Will Connolly is just... not true.

And one of the reasons I think some people think Will Roland is "a worse singer" is because, sometimes, stylistically, Will Roland will use a sort of falsetto/head voice (which I LOVE BTW AND IM SICK OF PEOPLE CALLING OTHER PEOPLE BAD SINGERS BECAUSE THEY USE HEAD VOICE- IT'S BEAUTIFUL, IMPRESSIVE, AND REQUIRES GOOD BREATH CONTROL TO MAKE IT NOT SOUND CRAPPY AND WILL ROLAND DOES IT AMAZINGLY) like when he says "hero" and "Rob Dinero" (idk if that's how you spell it 😭) in More Than Survive.

It's not that he's a bad singer, he is taking the brunt of his voice during those parts and also, given that it's this little solo/soliloquy moment for Jeremy, I think that Will Roland's choice to use a light head voice there is perfectly well-placed. It feels kinda personal, I guess. And I love it <3

Not to say that Will Connolly's way of singing it isn't also great. It's awesome! But like, guys, we can't keep getting pissed when a new actor in a show doesn't have the exact same singing voice as the original 😭 That's just silly, guys. 😭

(LIKE WHEN PEOPLE GOT PISSED AT ELIZABETH TEETER'S LYDIA FOR SOUNDING TOO MUSICAL THEATRE-Y?? LIKE. HUH?!? GUYS, IT'S BROADWAY- WHAT DO YOU MEANNN??? Sorry, I have feelings- Also, Shoutout to Elizabeth Teeter, btw, cuz' she slayed <3)

Anywaysss- back to Will Roland's voice- he is very much capable of hitting the notes that Will Conolly hits- if not higher (IT'S NOT A COMPETION THO, GUYS- PLS DONT COME FOR ME). For example, the acoustic version of Loser, Geek, Whatever on Spotify which, I believe, is a key higher than usual!! This man can belt some high notes when the situation calls for it! And also, (these are not really bmc related but whatever) during the harmony or whatever at the end of "Sincerely, Me", that is none other than WiLL RoLaND (!!!) hitting that high E (I'm pretty sure it's an E. I hope it's an E. But regardless, it's still a SUPER HIGH NOTE) at the end! And in "Amphibian" on Joe Iconis' album titled, well, "Album", Will Roland hits some insanely high notes!!! ( EVEN IF THEY ARE HEAD VOICE. I REPEAT, HEAD VOICE DOES NOT MEAN BAD SINGER!!)

Also, as a little additional statement to my "Jeremy is autistic/ autistic-coded so Will Roland played him as autistic"; this is not to say that Will Conolly didn't add some "autistic flare", if you will, to Jeremy. I mean, just yesterday I was freaking out with my friend about a gif of Will Conolly's Jeremy doing the autistic flappy hands :))). And I think that he was a good baseline for other Jeremy's to build off of!

Also, I feel like the people that are saying that Will Roland's portrayal of autism/neurodiversity is "ableist" or "incorrect" or "too dramatic" are sorta failing to understand/acknowledge that autism/neurodiversity is a spectrum. Not every person with autism or another kind of Neurodiversity is gonna act the same. And I think that's something really beautiful that we should all cherish. It is GREAT that we are all different but also, in many ways, the same!

And to see myself and my uncontrolled speaking voice and weird noises and such represented by Will Roland on stage is such a beautiful thing that I think 'ought to be cherished.

[vsaintsin]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due 2024, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

[blimgus]

Regarding WHB

(sorry for mistakes im writing this on PC without autocorrect)

I've noticed that the game is loosing many of its tumblr community due to the recent drama (idk if we can call it that? i mean that PB did some really crappy stuff)

''What in Hell is Bad?" used to be one of my fav games due to great storytelling, interesting worldbuilding and awesome and unique character designs. It was also one of the few porn games (lol) targetting the female audience which wasn't relying on heavy and steamy yaoi.I've grown so used to the absolutely cursed humor of this game that it will take me some time to find a good replacement...

While many people were annoyed at the lack of content, I used to enjoy the slow pace and lack of grind requierments.The addition of battle pass seemed fine until the only added content started to appear behind a goddamn overpriced paywall.Honestly I fully understand that adding Bath Beel to a battle pass made all hell break loose for the internet community.The card that was expected to arrive on the seals banner or idk as a login bonus was taken away from us which was soooo unfair to Beel fans. Also taking our daily 10 pull was critical to the relations between the players and devs. Imagine being a new player now, having trouble getting even a single 10 pull.

I still want to enjoy the created fantasy world from whb, but when the devs make it hard I just sometimes want to give up on that game. Like Andrealphus and Sitri are still one of my faves and i might doodle them in my notebooks, however idk about how the future of game's story will look.

The community created around this game was honestly kinda like my little safespace? We were pretty laid back and used to weird and horny stuff so I got really into doing my little silly doodles and writing a few headcanons.Big fandoms usually scare me due to the big spectrum of "types of fans". Even if we had some drama in the community among users we wre able to get back together and solve our problems together.

I just wanted to thank all of the content creators of WHB tumblr/twitter fandoms since I know that some of you decided to leave the game for good.( I mean i know that most of us are boycotting the game but just wanted to mention those who decide to leave us) My time in the fandom was really special! I loved entertaining you with my little silly versions of the characters, writing some theories and other stuff. While im currently boycotting the game just like most of us, I'm a bit tired of the lack of communication from PB. I'd love to get some new lore to make new headcanons and stuff to make the sillies even funnier, but... drawing them currently feels like I'm trying to revive the fandom by myself. blimgus was mostly created from my love for the game and I really hope that the game one day will be still fun to play

[77gigabytes]

I won't be able to post for a little while 😔, but here's my rendition of the Nightplumes BGM. IDK the actual name of it XD.

Also, this is the first time I'm posting myself playing piano so i'm a little shyyyyy 🥺👉👈 but that's just how much I absolutely love the Nightplumes BGM.

I'm so weak for soft Sylus...

Sorry for the crappy piano audio, though T^T. My phone sucks 😕

Hope you enjoy! :D

-Seven

[slayfics]

Hello! I’ve been reading your posts for a couple weeks now and I love them sm! Muichiro has a place in my heart after season 3 lol. I was wondering if you could do a one shot where the reader saves him from a vital blow from a demon after a bad argument? It hits her in her shoulder and goes almost all the way through her body. So there’s blood and all that stuff. It splashed muichiro in the face and he’s just silent as reader hits the floor. He defeats the demon and reader is just unconscious (not dead) and he freaks? Idk how it would end though? If this sounds absolutely crappy just ignore me 🥹 love your writing!

You get badly hurt by a demon after a fight with Muichiro.

Warnings: blood

You couldn't believe after all this time Muichiro still had the nerve to talk down to you. Sure you were still ranked lower than him but you had proven your worth, the days of feeling you didn't deserve respect were long gone.

You cursed the fact that you both were summoned in the middle of an argument to quickly catch a group of demons. Even more, frustration welled up inside you that Obanai had already beaten you both to the demon.

Why were you even summoned when a Hashira was already at the demon? Whatever the case, you and Muichiro quickly got to work attacking the demons with Obanai.

Whether it was due to the reassuring presence of Obanai being another Hashira in the fight, or the argument you were both in right before the fight, you both seemed to be disorganized in the fight.

To the point that you saw Muichiro left an opening for a demon to come right for him. Without thinking you quickly moved yourself between Muichiro and the demon.

The demon's attack went completely through your shoulder splashing blood everywhere. Swiftly Muichiro spun and cut the demon's head off as you fell to the floor.

Obanai had just taken out he last demon and rushed to assess the situation with Muichiro.

Muichiro stared over your body completely in shock as more blood from your wound spilled out to soak his feet.

"What the hell are you doing just standing there!" Obanai barked at Muichiro. Obanai quickly took off his haoir and wrapped it around your wound.

"We have to get her to the Butterfly Mansion right away,"

Muichiro blinked away the tears forming in his eyes, "Right-" He finally spoke.

"Well pick her up!" Obanai commanded, irritated at Muichiro's shock and lack of action.

Muichiro shook his head quickly trying to focus then carefully grabbed you into his arms. Obanai took off in the direction of the Butterfly Mansion and Muichiro followed right behind.

"Why were you both fighting so carelessly?" Obanai asked, as the two Hashria's continued to run.

"We were in the middle of a disagreement when we were summoned," Muichiro spoke.

"Hmm- I see," Obanai responded.

"Iguro..." Muichiro called from behind.

"Yes, Tokito?"

"She'll be alright won't she?"

"If we are fast enough," Obanai answered.

You woke up in the Butterfly Mansion to the sight of a misty-eyed Muichiro sitting across from you. Immediately he stood up when your eyes opened. You didn't feel any pain, actually the opposite you couldn't feel the right side of your body.

"Tokito?" You called hazily looking at the Hashira.

"Do you need anything? How do you feel? Are you ok?" He bombarded you with questions.

"I can't really feel anything yet," You answered. 'What happened?"

"I wasn't paying attention and you took an attack from a demon to save me," he explained.

"Oh..." You started to have some memories of the event flooding back to you.

"Are you ok?" You asked.

Muichiro scoffed, "Yes thanks to you," He answered. "I shouldn't have been so careless," He said, looking down at the floor.

"It's ok- we weren't really in a good mindset. I'm sorry we fought," you said.

"No, you don't need to apologize. I'm the one that let you down. I was useless in that fight," he scolded himself.

"You got me back here safe. It's ok, don't be so hard on yourself," You tried to console him.

"No, I can't take credit for that either. I stood frozen while Iguro took control of the situation. You should be thanking him, not me," Muichiro said, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"Tokito, it's ok. It was just a bad day. Nothing we can't overcome," you pleaded with him.

"No, I- I'm sorry I should go-" He said, turning to walk out and get one of the butterfly girls.

"No!" You yelled at the Hashira. "Don't leave me please!"

"You really want my company after the harsh things I said and my negligence in today's fight," he said bitterly.

"You're so aggravating sometimes, Tokito! Just come here," You said sternly, swallowing a lump in your throat.

Muichiro reluctantly moved closer to you. You reach out for his hand bringing it to your lips and gently placing a kiss.

"Stop being so difficult," you commanded. Finally, Muichiro's shoulders relaxed a bit and a smile found a way to his face.

Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy it~

Tags~

@aeolia18 @yandere-kou @sakurasunkiss @hashiroses @plvuii @snowmist-hashira

[allisluv]

Grace I'm sort of having a problem rn and honestly it's really bugging me. I'm getting cyberbullied and doxxed for being a Gale stan :( I was literally just sharing my opinions and arguing with someone on TikTok (as we all do at times, I swear I wasn't being a bitch) and this person screenshotted the convo and then posted a slideshow and called their dogs to make fun of me :( istg I hate this fandom sometimes

Anyways I was hoping for THG guys and girls (idk what are all the characters you write for) comforting you in the situation (I mean the slideshow and shit)

Sorry for over sharing pookie you do totally not have to do this, I just wanted to blow off some esteem (is that the phrase?) 😭

- 🫐

anon, i'm so sorry it took me this long to get around to this but i hope all's well and i wish this had never happened to you! people can be so cruel sometimes <3

katniss isn't the best at comforting people but she'll try her very best to make you feel better. her go to is trying to distract you, so she will offer to sit through a crappy romcom or take you hunting or whatever you want to do.

peeta will bake you your favourite dessert and tell you not to listen to them. he gives you lots of cuddles and kisses.

finnick shuts off your phone to stop you from stressing over people's comments. he takes you swimming and cracks god-awful jokes until you're laughing and forget what you were sad about in the first place.

johanna takes your phone and replies to every single comment. she tears them to shreds and does not stop until you have got an apology from at least 99% of them.

gale can't believe that people can be so petty. he makes it a personal mission to shut down their attacks on you. he recruits beetees help to get your private information off the internet, too.

lucy gray baird uses her lyrics as a weapon and if someone in the hob tries to start on you, she will use her guitar to whack them over the head

annie cries in the bathroom because she can't believe someone could be so hurtful to her sweet girl. then she'll run her fingers through your hair and tell you funny stories about her childhood to make you feel better

[mcbeetlebeeb]

Perchance if your requests are open then I would like a modern reader with homestuck characters of your choosing?? If not that's ok you don't gotta if you don't wanna. Have good day

Hii, sorry for the INCREDIBLY late response, trying to remember how to use tumblr BUT YES I shall deliver 👍 thanks for asking question, I'll be doing the main four (ФωФ)

(and- hopefully I understand your question cause I'm ready to do this in head cannon platform- so??‐ 🫂 take it my friend)

⛅️John Egbert🎭

*deep inhale* NERRD

sorry, moving on

seems like the sorta guy to know fnaf lore, like all of it, I can't elaborate further

also he wears totally normal outfits with stupid stupid socks,,

silly socks, the dumbest you could imagine

I think at some point he'd be the mfker with some tape or a bandaid around the middle of his glasses to keep it together

hes a one pillow sleeper 😔

and by that I mean he has one singular pillow on his bed smh

he atones by sleeping with stuffed animals though

mfkin creepy ass light sleeper

and I say that cause I can fully imagine someone trying to get something while he's sleeping or even trying to wake him up

and he just sits up, all the way, no glasses john, eyes open all the way not groggy or confused

get this MAN SOME BROWN EYE CONTACTS!!

FUCK I THOUGHT THATD MAKE IT SMALLER HER FACE IS HUGE

no going back tumblr is already so confusing, sorry anon I tried to be funny now she's here

anyway..lord..

I think he'd forever go to bed at like a super specific time, and if he messes that up he feels wrong the next day

and that's all he'll tell you, "I feel wrong"

touch of the tisim probably perhaps maybe

listen his dad collected shaving cream and harlequins and clowns and stuff-..

I don't think he has freckles but more so little body moles speckled around his body

goofy smile, silly laugh, catch him snorting and slapping his knee n shit

tries to push up glasses with the nose scrunch thing, makes him show of his messes up teeth

an endearing young punster.

I definitely think if you'd be down, he's 100% the person too have nerf gun wars

something and John Egbert and a foam dart makes sense

and for some reason i connect that with bubbles

rip John you would've loved fruiter aergo

maybe, maybe more low quality photos of it though because idk

he has a strange love for...what's the word...

hmm.. eccentric things

he just holds them dear, think it's in his blood

who knows if that's a good or bad thing

expressive

I think you'd have to be, blind, deaf, mute and impossibly stupid to miss his body language

or just a meanie(?)

regardless not emotionally verbal, or at least not often, or- as much as he should

but physically shows it

like..for example if he was in a crappy mood, you'd be able to tell, and he'd confirm if you asked

and with him being expressive i would think comes with..what's the word again..uh..

responsive?

reactive?

especially to words, or touch

when he gets red, he one of them people to get red EVERywhere.

ears, down to the neck, shoulders, forhead.

dude looks like he's gonna pop a blood vessel any moment lmao

he'd be the person too have like reddened knuckles and stuff, cold hands, will press the cold hands into you for warmth

if he were to smell like anything, vanilla, faintly, all smells on him would be faint I'd like to think

☀️Rose Lalonde🔮

honestly my favorite to draw-

she is wrighting so many silly things for and too you

poems?

happening.

long strangely war letter back home love letters too you

they probably are never shown-

maybe unless you look or perhaps ask

she'd be...the best person to gossip over a drink with

tea, coffee, alcohol, water, soda

I think she'd be a mfker to sleep with socks

it's okay on some level cause they're socks she made herself

I also think not just gossip but she's like- she's a seer of light cmon-

she knows stuff

I think she may not look like it but she, is the ultimate yapper

and silly

silly Rose justice

shes a goofy goober too guys

there would be no way she's not

look at her friends

I think she'd like her hair to be pet sometimes

play with it gently, braid it for no reason

type of person I can see too sit with you on the porch as it rains

reminds me of mist and.. morning dew

chilly autumn mornings

where you can see your breath

shes one of them Halloween people

i just know she appreciates a crunchy leaf

*knits you this*

YOU SIZED OBVIOUSLY

also gloves

why not

stay warm

she'd want you too

she has dimples

both lil cheek dimples

I think she'd be someone to ponder her partner often

like, seeing a candle and going "oh perfect, you've found me here as well!" but she's in the middle of some store lol

or reading something, thinking about that phrase and linking it too you or something like that

something strangely meticulous

carefully, honestly, thought out.

shes the person too either meticulous take the time to paint her nails right

or paint them all fucked up, and then clean them up

leaning more towards the latter

am I saying that right?

she would smell like

mm, cold linen, and books, book smell

🌠Jade Harely🐾

ah yes

doggie

shes a sweetheart though

albeit a clumsy- narcoleptic one

she means well

most times

she has all the hair

everywhere!!

find her brushing herself

maybe???

maybe space powers debunk hair needs

I dunno probably pffhfhh

toothy smile

big toothy grin

I like to think she has braces

convincingly can bark and growl (before and after bec merge thingy)

probably got even more convincing dog bark talents

sit down with her and a good coloring book

entertainment for hours

she'd be up for most anything I bet

would possibly be bored laying around lounging

something tells me she'd have a thing with buttons

all shapes and sizes and materials

just- checks out as a Jade thing yknow

same with silly bands

somewhere there is glitter on this girl I'm convinced

maybe more earth glitter (dirt) than any other

but like, 🤷 I dunno man

can I pet dat dawg?

yes, pet the dog, dog longs for human contact

scratch that

contact

overall

shes just lonely, forgive her lack of "norm" social skills

brotha grew up on a damn island, with her dog, and stuffed grandpa

stuffed grandpa

I'd be a lil weirdo too

anon, I'm gonna tell you this now..

I've never read the books all the way threw, and I own 3 out of idk how many

so forgive me if this...- out of character

dirty nailz..

yknow how some big dogs have that mindset that they are little lap dog puppies?

her

oh you thought it was gonna be a lil head rest?

a lil lean?

no

blanket mode.

snuggle time.

accept it, at least for a minute.

I cannot explain why and I won't but, she gives me road runner vibes

just..yep, that's jade..harely..

what am I doing dude tf

also..don't ask me why, she would smell like pine, dirt, soil if you will, maybe lavender too, or more something..sugary? cinnamon?

am I making sense

⚔️Dave Strider📀

uughhh what haven't I said about this dude

hmm

I'm trying to remember what I wrote before tumblr rudely disrupted my wrighting and made me go back to the beginning

well let's see

eotushuf

here me out

this but on him

and it's soft blonde and and

there's spots that are missing from scars

and they go down to his hand,, and fingers

the hair on the side of the hand, you know what I mean

also has missing little patches

broad..finge nail

chews his nails

hhe.. uu h out of all of the four, probably the best to lounge around with

laying around

what's the word

parallel play?

being able to comfortably do yalls own thing in the same place

without a lot of talking

rhhrrgg

hes the type of person to 100% do the three hand squeeze thing

iykyk... (squeezing someone's hand to wordlessly say, "I love you")

and if you respond verbally, or even just squeezing back

he'll face away and do it back again

epitome of "putting on sunglasses so no one knows what I'm looking at"

you at you

he has..like stupid peripheral vision and uses it to advantage

I cannot say why but, he definitely has funky cool ties

just does i feel it

also, crackley

cracking his knuckles, his neck, back

when he stands it's like fine machinery sounding

clicking and popping in knees and hips

blonde

...eyelashes..

rough palms and scar knuckles

he smells like- a well slept on pillow ina good way- and also maybe

faintly of apple juice, carton apple juice..

guys this is buns, I'm so sorry truly, I'm also..so sleepy..😔

anon i hope this was right, and..to your request, I hope u have a good day (*^▽^)/★*☆♪