#it was meant to be a doodle just for me but then i thought nah we all need a supportive Tony in our lives

[syrupbitee]

this is so ass im so sorry

[niko-ur-local-moron]

Last doodle of Tony this year

He's proud of yall for making it through 2023 and he hopes y'all keep on going 👍

[aceofstars0]

Two doodles I did in excitement of techno's new video

🩸🐷👑 The blood hashira ~

Rant under the cut about how much he meant to me vv

I never thought id ever say "technoblade's new video again". I said goodbye to new technoblade content 2 years ago. None of this has ever felt real, I still remember listening to him say he had cancer, waiting for him to say "nah, I'm just messin' with ya". I'm still waiting for that video. The few days after I watched that, I was thinking about it nonstop and I remember listening to dream's new (at the time) song "change my clothes" while helping my brother move into his dorm, just trying to process it all and tell myself it would be alright. I know, it's a dream song, but it was comforting nonetheless.

When the video announcing his death came out, I didn't even watch it. No matter how hard I wanted to deny it, I knew what had happened without even watching the video. My sisters asked if I had heard a few hours later while I was still in denial. My closer sister isn't at all into mcyt, and she said she watched it and cried. I texted my brother, he said he cried. We all cried. I knew if I watched it then I wouldn't be able to think of anything positive for weeks, and I had just gotten out of a rough patch and didn't want that. So I spent the whole day and day after existing and processing.

During COVID, he and the dream smp (as well as Akira) were my saving graces. It was such a boring summer since no one could do anything and I remember watching the dream smp for hours on end, giggling in the couch, drawing shitty doodles in my sketchbook to help me sleep. It kept me sane. And my favorite - technoblade. He was so funny, so witty, so funny, I loved his "technoblade never dies" bits, all the selling out, all the begging for money, I loved everything he did.

During my doodle sesh I got curious to know what the video was about. I knew it would make me cry. Hard. And boy I did. When he talked about techno's last note to us and dying 3 hours later...... I cried. I cried harder than any show has made me cry (not more than school, but that's pretty hard to top).

I still go back from time to time to rewatch his old videos. I still get a kick, and since I don't think I'll ever fully process that he's gone, I can watch simply for fun and not... Cry.

We miss you, king.

[strange-little-spy]

Chapter Four - A month later, Bucky and Steve's apartment, 8:30 am

Chapter warnings: some fluff/bonding time, more of a filler chapter.

Word count: 1702 words

"James Barnes!" Addie shouted from the living room as she stamped her foot. "Is anyone gonna be excited that I got a job??"

"Wait what??" Steve poked his head from the kitchen where the scent of oatmeal came wafting through the small room.

"I got a job, Stevie!" Addie jumped once. "Where's Bucky?"

"Uh, I'm not sure."

"Is that man still asleep? JAMES!!"

A loud--and objecting--groan was heard from Bucky's room where Addie found the man still sprawled out on his bed.

"Bucky! It's amazing because guess who's little girl got a job!?" She jumped on the bed and yanked the pillow out from under his head.

"Doll, it is wayyyy to early to be so happy-" he groaned again rubbing his eyes. "Wait- a job??"

"Yes, you bug lump!" Addie smacked his chest. "I got a job down at the drug store! They said I could start this evening!"

"Look at you go!" Bucky sat up, his bed-head making her laugh. "But this couldn't have waited till afte I actually woke up?"

"James." She made a mock-pout, but inside she knew he really did care.

"I'm playing, Adding machine." He poked her before stretching his shoulders.

"I know, but what can I say? I've been bored out my mind with no job, but now that's all changed! Steve's got breakfast coming too."

"Steve's cooking?"

"He had the stove on, that's progress." She teased.

"Get outa here so I can change." He pushed her, gently of course, to which she snickered and fought the dirty comment that rose in her mind.  Instead she made her way to the kitchen where Steve was finishing off the oatmeal.

"Hey, Addie." He waved before turning back to his work. "What did Buck say?"

"He's happy for me, of course this was after I pulled on his arm a little." She grinned, but her own words made her reconsider what she meant. In a little less than a decade the man in the other room would be the world's greatest assassin with a titanium arm shoved into his shoulder.

"Whats with the face?" Steve sat down with his bowl, startling Addie from her thoughts. "You look sad."

"Oh, sorry, I just... nothing important. You might not believe me either..."

"That's what you said about how old you were," he gave her the side eye while he took a bite of his breakfast.

"Nah, it's not that important, Steve. I'm here, ain't I?"

"True," he smiled. "Oh, sorry, do you want a bowl?"

"Ooh, yes please, I'm starved."

"I had an idea last night," Steve spoke as he scooped a large helping into another bowl for her.

"Spill." She rested her chin in her hands. "I'm all ears."

"Would you mind modeling for me? I wanna try and draw you."

"Really?? Me??"

"You should see his works," Bucky commented as he wandered into the kitchen. "He's really good."

"I've seen his doodles," she smiled before catching herself.

"Where?" Steve set the bowl down before getting her a spoon.

"Uh..." she couldn't very well say a movie that came out over 100 years later. "I took out the trash and I think your drawing fell on the floor. I put it back in the book for you."

"Oh, well, thanks Ad." Steve smiled and sat back down. "Anyway, whadya say?"

"Well, I'd have to do it on my day off though. That should be Saturday."

"Perfect. Thanks." He nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it."

"You're sweet." She patted his hand.

"Awwwwwww." Bucky made a face.

"You can shut your mouth, Barnes." Addie half-scolded.

"Ouch, my heart." Bucky frowned.

Addie smirked and shook her head. "You're a sad sack of bananas, Buck."

"Wow, she's getting better." Steve looked at Bucky who had his hands on his hips, his tongue running along his teeth.

"One day I'll learn to keep my mouth shut."

"But it is not this day!" Addie raised a finger. She knew neither of the two would get the reference, but screw the timeline.

That Saturday

"Now don't move a muscle-" Steve tapped Addie's shoulder before backing up and fixing the curtain for the right lighting. "You look just perfect. Now the bad news is you have to stay just like that until I say so."

"Oh, fun." Addie rolled her eyes, being careful not to move.

"I won't be long." Steve reassure before sitting on the floor and picking up his pencil.

"And you're sure no one will come in here?" She asked, sounding a little hesitant.

"Trust me doll. Buck won't be back for hours."

"Where is he, by the way? I saw him this morning, but after that he just ran off."

"It's Mother's Day tomorrow, he went to see his Ma." Steve didn't look up as he carefully drew her curves that were projected onto the screen where she stood only in the tights that had stayed with her during the "Trip". She rested her ankle on the radiator(it was off of course), stretching her leg straight out, almost taking the stance of a ballerina.

Her mane of hair tumbled over her shoulder and she held her hands above her head.

"Ah, that's nice." She smiled, forcing down her desire to see her own mother, not even see her, just talk to her.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I want your opinion."

"Okay, shoot."

"I was thinking about joining the Auxiliary Corps and...I don't know if I should tell Mr. Bob first or wait till I get my letter and THEN tell him."

All she could hear was the sudden drop of a pencil on the hardwood floor.

"Steve?"

"You want to join the Army???"

"It's not the Army, but it's more like the Red Cross. I want to help people, and I can't very well go out and fight with the war coming."

Oop. Another slip. The Second World War hadn't started yet.

"We don't know if we will go to war, kid." Steve tried to sound wiser, but even still Addie knew he wanted to fight as well. And he would get pretty of it soon...

"Speaking of which, where did you get that bruise on your jaw?"

"What?" She smirked when she heard his pencil stop moving.

"You heard me, Steve."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Alright then," she knew he couldn't see her shit-eating grin, but it was worth it. "I'll ask Bucky then."

"Addison."

"What? I care, Steve. You can't be picking fights with every boy on the street just because he ruffled your hair."

"It's not like that.."

"I'm sorry," Addie suppressed her sigh. "Okay, I know it's hard. But don't worry, give it a few years, maybe you just have one last growth spurt and it's taking it's sweet time."

"You can say that again." Steve muttered before his pencil started moving again. "Hey, lift your chin just a little more."

Addie obeyed him, keeping her neck stiff. "Like that?"

"Perfect."

"I'm serious, Steve. Things will get better, I promise."

"Well-...how do you know?"

"I just do. Can you take my word for it?"

"Alright, Adding Machine." She could hear the laughter in Steve's voice when he used Bucky's nickname for her. "Thanks."

"That looks really good!" Bucky grinned as he handed the drawing back to Steve. "She's quite the looker."

"I can hear you, Bucky!" Addie called from the other room where she was changing back into her dress. She had grown the love the dresses, the modesty was very elegant yet just revealing enough to send the men whistling.

"So what?" Bucky shot back.

"So you're coy!"

"Again, so what?"

Addie rolled her eyes and shook her head. She liked this Bucky, he was happy and he had Steve. Meanwhile the future Captain America seemed a little glum. He couldn't very well work(not without multiple breaks and his asthma limited everything), but Addie would find a way around this..

"You might want to talk to Bucky about what you told me this morning." Steve suggested as Addie strolled into the living room where she halfway sat on the couch's armrest.

"Are you keeping secrets?" Bucky teased as he tickled behind her ear playfully. For a grown man he was very affectionate.

"Maybe," Addie shrugged, trying to sound as is she was hiding something to humor him.

"Steve, we took in a jerk."

Steve just rolled his eyes and simply watching the exchange.

"I am a jerk, flattery will gain you nothing, Barnes."

"Just tell him, Ad." Steve laughed.

"I was thinking about joining the Auxiliary Corps." She sobered and looked at Bucky.  "But I wanted to ask you guys' opinion on wether I should tell Mr. Bob now, or wait till I get my letter and then tell him."

Bucky was silent as he exchanged a glance with Steve.

"You act like we're already at war!" He objected, failing at hiding his dismay.

"I said I was thinking about it, Bucky. You know I just wouldn't leave you two like that." But war was coming, wether they liked it or not. And both of them would be heavily affected by it.

"But what about Steve?" Now he was coming up with excuses. "You can't just leave him!"

"Bucky, you aren't listening to me."

"But you can't!"

"Okay," she stood up and walked to him. "James, look at me. I am not going anywhere right now. I see you guys every day and I love you both. But as I said I am thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind yet. Besides, if we do go to war, I want to do all I can, as I'm sure you both will."

Bucky sighed and looked down. "I'm sorry, Ad. You just-...you're the best gal we got and I don't know what we would do without you. What did you tell her, Steve?"

"I didn't say anything, but I'm on the same train as Buck. We'd be lost without you."

"You guys are sweet." Addie still blushed even after a month and half with these guys. "It'll be a shame when I marry one of you."

"Wait- what?" Steve actually spun around on the couch.

"Okay, Ads that was a dumb move."

A/N: Okay, MAJOR angst incoming in next chapter, so just brace yourselves

thank you for reading 🥰✌️

Dividers by @strangergraphics

prompt by @the-superoriginal

written by yours truly, all relation to actual people are purely coincidental

tag list: @oh-to-be-a-murderer - @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent - @itzzkaylaaa - @crazyinlovewithmarvel - @natt-romanoff - @ohyeah-itssamwilson - @proud-owner-0f-americas-ass - @thebestmerc-1 - @daniel-barnes-the-ghost - @nighttimewitchgirl(but if you dont wanna be tagged tell me plz <3)

if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters, please send me an ask and I will make sure to tag you!

[raincoatpng]

yes hello, Hope I’m not bothering you, but I just found your art and posts about Queen Runala and I just kept scrolling down and down craving to see more about her and your world building. It’s sooo goood. I love her so much. I love the energy and I would die if something happens to her (lets pretend she is not… you know… lets pretend!! ;w;) The general headcanons say that Dorephan always had huge heart-eyes for his wife, so seeing your take of “nah, she actually pissed him off at first” is both fun and refreshing.

I would love to know, at what point did their relationship start to change? What made them (especially Dorephan, from what I saw in your past posts) change their perspective towards each other to the point they married?

Thank you so much for the ask anon!! (For future reference I love answering asks hehe I love yapping so don't hesitate!) I'm so happy you like Runala :D

Their dynamic as a dedicated though annoyed bodyguard and a begrudging sheltered prince came to me pretty naturally, all things considered – which is odd considering that this is not a dynamic I'm typically drawn to. I think it works for me because Runala isn't the kind of person to passively take any disrespect (even the kind that is explained by exterior reasons such as an overbearing parent) even for the sake of duty.

But! I've actually been giving this topic some thought! I think the moment their relationship started to change into something like friendship, is when Runala offered to secretly train Dorephan in combat despite the wishes of the (still yet to be named) old Queen. After all, if the person Runala is meant to protect can defend himself in case of emergencies, well, that just makes her job easier right? Dorephan being bitter about his own lack of fighting skills is the source of his animosity towards Runala, so the fact that she's willing to help him overcome this, helps to change his perspective of her.

After getting over their initial mutual dislike, I think it was simply a matter of spending time together and getting to know each other better :)

I do believe that at some point Dorephan stood up to his mother and grew past the need to have a bodyguard. Runala was promoted to General and she kept that title even when she married Dorephan and became queen.

enjoy this rare happy young dorephan doodle i never posted :)

[aphrosephone119]

New mini fic!! 'Summer storm on the beach'

some cute fluff between young John B and JJ. enjoy!!! ⬇️

On the first day of 7th Grade, John B and his new class were asked to describe the person to their left using a type of weather as a warm up exercise. John B was lucky to have his best friend JJ on his left and was really excited to do this task.

But about 20 minutes into the exercise, he still had a blank page, and he didn't know why. He'd spent almost everyday with JJ since the 3rd Grade and probably knew him better than he knew himself. So why couldn't he do something so simple??

JJ had already completed his task. He had the opportunity to write about a girl he'd had a crush on for a while. John B glanced at his friends page and saw the words 'clear sunny day' written on it. This boy was WHIPPED, and John B couldn't help the small huffed laugh that came out when he read it.

JJ shot John B a curious look, eyebrows raised. “What’s so funny?” he whispered, careful not to catch the teacher's attention.

“Nothing,” John B replied, his small smirk fading as he looked back down at his empty page. John B tapped his pencil against the desk and let his mind wander as he tried to think of JJ's characteristics that would relate to a certain weather type.

JJ was loud. He was wild. He was an embodiment of bringing life to the party, and people couldn't help be drawn in by his bright energy, especially the girls. But on the flip side, at times he was quiet, extremely thoughtful, and sweet. He was like the calm before something big. He was the kind of friend who could make you feel safe and content one moment, then throw you into chaos the next. But no matter what, you'd still feel relaxed and protected, even when shit hit the fan.

John B’s pencil stopped tapping as an idea struck him. He looked back at JJ, who was now doodling little waves on the corner of his page.

The words practically wrote themselves as John B scrawled them onto his paper.

'JJ Maybank is like a summer storm on the beach. He can be unpredictable and full of energy, crashing into your life like strong waves against the shore. But even in the chaos, there’s still a warmth to him, like the sun hidden behind the clouds, allowing bright rays to beam through the dark sky like angelic light. He can be calm and peaceful, like the quiet that's present right before a storm. But he can also be loud and wild, making sure you’ll never forget he was there. And no matter what, he always leaves you feeling refreshed and alive.'

John B set his pencil down and stared at the page. He felt like he’d captured exactly who JJ was. This felt right.

The teacher called for everyone to share, and when it was John B’s turn, he felt nervous. He and JJ hadn't really done this before, they were foreign to the idea of being 'deep and emotional', but maybe doing this would allow them to open this door for future conversations at the Chateau. So, he stood from his desk and read his work aloud.

When he finished, the room was quiet for a moment, the kind of silence that follows something unexpectedly profound. John B glanced nervously at JJ, who had stopped doodling. JJ's expression was unreadable for a second before a slow, crooked grin broke out across his face.

"That was beautiful, John B." The teacher said with a smile as John B took his seat again.

“Damn, John B,” JJ whispered as the next student started reading. “You making me feel all warm and fuzzy."

John B snorted, trying to play it cool, but his cheeks were warm. “Shut up, man,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.

JJ nudged him with his elbow, his grin not fading. “Nah, for real. That was... I dunno, kinda awesome.” He glanced down at his doodle, suddenly looking a little shy. “Didn’t know you thought of me like that.”

“Well, it’s true,” John B said, leaning back in his chair. He tried to act casual, but the truth was, he meant every single word. Because JJ wasn’t just his best friend, he was the person who made life more exciting. He caused havoc, yet somehow made life more stable at the same time. JJ was his brother. And after 4 great years with this blonde summer storm in his life, John B couldn't even imagine his world without JJ in it any more.

JJ smirked, the trademark mischievous spark in his eyes. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m the highlight of your life?”

“Don’t push it,” John B shot back, rolling his eyes.

But JJ just laughed, a sound that filled the room like sunshine after rain. It was warm and bright.

The rest of the class moved on, but the boys stayed in their bubble for a moment longer. JJ leaned over, his voice dropping to a rare tone of sincerity. “For real, though. Thanks, man. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

"Always, dude. But hey, I'm curious..." John B whispered. "What weather type would you say I am?"

JJ tilted his head, studying John B with a thoughtful expression that made him look unusually serious. For a moment, John B thought he might not have an answer. Then the blonde's face broke into that familiar, signature grin.

“You...” JJ started, tapping his pencil against his desk as if he were weighing his words. “You’re like... the first warm day after winter.”

John B raised an eyebrow. “That’s... oddly poetic for you, man.”

JJ shrugged, the grin softening into something more genuine. “Nah, think about it. You’re steady, you know? You show up, and everything feels a little better. You make the cold and dark disappear, and bring this feeling that, no matter what, things are gonna to be ok. Like when the snow starts melting, and the sun’s out, and you can feel spring’s not that far away. That’s you.”

John B blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected depth. “Damn, man,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended. “That’s... That's like SO sweet!”

JJ shrugged again, but his ears turned slightly pink. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he said, quickly turning his attention back to his doodles. “I’m still the summer storm, remember? Can’t have you thinking I’ve gone soft.”

John B laughed, shaking his head. “Never, dude."

[blametheeditor]

Mike finds himself looking through the schematics he took from Afton Robotics for the fifth time that week.

Not because he can’t understand them, but because he can’t help feeling like he’s missing something. Despite the mechanical voice that’s now a permanent part of his consciousness answering all of his questions, elaborating on what ‘storage tank’ and ‘parental voice sync and replay’ meant, even with a big if he can trust the information given, it’s still not making much sense.

Sure, Mike can get behind the fact William Afton designed animatronics specifically to lure people in for nefarious reasons. But there’s no answer as to why.

And while there might be people out there who don’t really need a reason, William wasn’t one of them. Not a person who wouldn’t do something like this oh no this has William written all over it, but the man needs a motive.

On top of all of that, there’s a very distinct lack of anything concerning spaghetti wires. Aka, the robot acting as his organs was either a top secret project, a random creation that’s the equivalent to a doodle made by an artist, or a fully sentient machine that went rouge and/or built itself.

Option 1 seems most likely, but Mike really likes option 3.

How to make the amalgamation of wires tell him the truth about its origins...

You can always just ask me.

Nah, he can make a foolproof plan that guarantees answers he gets will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

That may be hard to do considering I know your every thought.

Right. Well he’s fucked.

[midnightshard06]

Flufftober Day 22

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50489362/chapters/128969104

Summary: Sonic enjoys the ease at which he can pick Knuckles up as a werehog. He doesn't expect Knuckles to be able to do the same.

Pairing: Sonic the Hedgehog/Knuckles the Echidna

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~900 words

AN: Based in the same au as these doodles from this post- https://www.tumblr.com/midnightshard06/730864248738217984/so-my-brain-decided-to-oh-so-helpfully-have-me?source=share

@flufftober

“Could you put me down.” Knuckles glared at a recently transformed werehog Sonic.

Sonic gave him a grin. “I could.” 

The two stared at each other for a few moments. Sonic could tell Knuckles was getting more and more annoyed the longer the silence stretched on. Not like it was hard to tell what the echidna was feeling; it was something Sonic really liked about the guy. He found it hard to read people sometimes, downside of being alone most of his life, but he could alway tell how Knuckles felt. “You’re not going to put me down are you?” Knuckles’ glare deepened.

“You only asked if I could, not if I would.” Sonic grinned slyly, but decided to put him down anyway. “Next time just say what you want.”

Knuckles crossed his arms. “You know exactly what I meant mutt. You just choose to do that on purpose.”

“Do what on purpose?” Sonic gave him an innocent look.

The echidna looked like he was about to shout but instead he sighed heavily and walked past Sonic. “Whatever, let’s just find a place to camp for the night and then you can go run off some energy. Unless there’s any of those monsters around?” He looked back at Sonic.

Sonic pinned his ears down and shook his head. “Nah, I got nothing.”

“Of course.” Knuckles huffed. “Come on.” He gestured for him to follow and Sonic did so without complaint for now. It didn’t take long to find a suitable place for camp, and it took even less time to prep the area. The two didn’t really carry camping supplies with them; they’d never really needed them. Sonic had been roughing it pretty much his whole life and Knuckles had lived on an apparently floating island where he didn’t really have any sort of home. “Alright, go run around or whatever you do.” Knuckles waved him off as he leaned against a tree and hung his hat on a low branch. Shrugging Sonic did just that. He let his mind sort of blank as he ran around, he was aware enough to keep an eye out for anyone else who might be around but he wasn’t really taking in the surroundings. He didn’t stay out too long despite the shorter run not doing too much to get rid of the energy running through him, but he’d been feeling sort of on edge when he was away from Knuckles lately. He had no idea why though, maybe because of the weird magical connection thing.

As he arrived back at camp he noticed that Knuckles was now sitting at the base of the tree he’d been leaning against with his eyes closed, but Sonic could tell he wasn’t asleep. Smiling to himself he went over and plopped down on the echidna’s lap. Knuckles startled, looking ready to punch something, until he registered it was just Sonic. “Back already?” Knuckles didn’t sound upset like Sonic thought he would at the blatant invasion of his personal space, if Sonic didn’t know better he’d think the echidna sounded concerned.

“Eh, just didn’t wanna risk drawing attention to myself is all.” Sonic did his best to shrug and not look at Knuckles in the eyes. If he did, the echidna would probably see through the poor lie.

Now Sonic expected Knuckles to either give up and let him stay where he was or wiggle out from underneath him. What he had not been expecting however was for him to feel Knuckles put his hands underneath him and lift him off the ground. Sonic looked down at Knuckles, the echidna glared up at him. He didn’t seem to really be struggling with the weight at all. Sonic felt his face flush slightly; he knew Knuckles was strong but he’d never tried to lift Sonic before. “Uuuuuh.” Sonic’s brain felt like it had sort of short circuited. Like one of Tails’ inventions if the fox wired them wrong.

Without warning Knuckles threw him onto his back. Sonic collided with a solid thump and just stared at the sky in shock for a while, his brain trying to catch up with what had happened. Before he could try and get up Knuckles appeared in his vision, arms crossed. “Wrestle with me, or I’ll do that again.”

“You can lift me?” Was the first thought Sonic could get out of his mouth.

Knuckles actually briefly chuckled at that. “I could carry you around like you do to me if you weren’t bigger than me like this.”

“Ah.” Sonic looked away, his face was hot.

“Hey focus. Wrestle with me.” Knuckles grunted.

Sonic looked back at him. “Wait, why?”

“If you don’t want to deal with that extra energy yourself then I will. I’d like to actually get some sleep tonight.” Knuckles narrowed his eyes.

That was actually kinda thoughtful, even if Knuckles was framing it as doing it for his own benefit. Sonic grinned and wrapped his arms around Knuckles before lifting him up again. The echidna struggled in his grasp. “How are you gonna do that if I can just pick you up like this?”

“You’re insufferable.” Knuckles growled.

“Yet you still tolerate me.” Sonic held him out, his hands under Knuckles’ armpits.

“Only because I have to mutt.” Knuckles frowned, but Sonic could tell he didn’t mean that.

“Sure sure.” Sonic hummed. “But alright, let’s see what you got.”

[pekasairroc]

Tagged by @sinfulauthor

1. Were you named after anyone?

My mom used to have a friend named Holly who remarked how she always loved her name. I have been repeatedly assured I was not named after Big Hol.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Christmas Day when Ed’s parrot Azul died :(

3. Do you have kids?

Nah

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

As a kiddy kid I did a lot of sports for a season or two (soccer, basketball) or several summers (softball) but I fenced foil for a few years and later on did some cross country. I would like to get back into fencing but would need to find a casual club that’s a good fit and change from a French grip to a Pistol grip due to hand hurty

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Often, but I prefer deadpan understatements.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Currently it’s whether they have a flu shot badge at work and then if they’re masking (mandatory if they don’t have the shot, highly encouraged regardless). I have had to do so many audits and trying not to STARE at people’s badges and lower faces due to exposures at work.

7. What's your eye color?

Blueish gray green. Aka blue.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

9. Any talents?

I can make myself and others stop hiccuping on command.

10. Where were you born?

Chicago suburbs

11. What are your hobbies?

Lots of art, writing, sewing, and crafting is what I usually tell people without getting into the details.

12. Do you have any pets?

No, but once I figure out the petsitting situation I would love to get two rats. I am not actively figuring out the petsitting situation.

Look, it’s one thing to ask a big group if someone could watch a cat for a weekend and it’s easy af to find a dog sitter but it’s hard to ask people to feed and clean up for two rats. It just is.

13. How tall are you?

5’8”

14. Favorite subject in school?

Latin. Languages in general.

15. Dream job?

I sit as the creative head of a production company. Is it animation? Is it comics? Video games? Doesn’t matter. I explain to the group in the room ideas for stories and they wait with bated breath to the finish. They applaud. Standing ovation is implied. They set to work on making my visions and stories and characters a reality with far more technical artistic skill than I personally have but 100% under my 100% perfect creative direction. The story is an international hit. Millions adore these stories and characters and are impacted in their life in a positive way, always remembering these little tales and being so normal about them. I live a quiet life in a cute little house drawing silly doodles when I’m not drafting the next story— and let’s be real, I don’t need to draft since it’s perfect and easy from the start— and give Q&As where no one asks dumb questions and everyone perfectly understands and respects my vision and desire to not tell certain details but listens spellbound for every tangent I go on about the history of one line or a part I thought was funny. Everyone leaves me alone but radiates in my storytelling prowess and is inspired in turn. Me and my characters are forever remembered in the realms of history.

That's not what you meant by “dream job?” Well, I actually like my infection control job and the parts I dislike are the parts that suck for all regulatory jobs. Love 2 tell people to wash their hands.

[elsweetheart]

best friend dina, teaching gf ellie, how to help when your overstimulated!!

omg. that’s so sososososos cute (fem reader)

“i dunno, i feel like — i don’t know. like i’m not doing enough to help her. sometimes things happen, or things get too loud or she gets too hot or cold and she just… shuts down. she gets all panicked and i feel so fuckin’ helpless. she looks all lost and scared and small and she’s looking to me to help her, but i… don’t know how.” ellie ranted, sat wearing an old dirty white tank top and her jeans leaning against the wall, her elbows resting on her knees. dina sat curled up in her seat where she’d been reading previously before her best friend ellie had interrupted to come and hang out.

• “well, atleast it’s clear she really trusts you. i mean it seems like a suuuper vulnerable place to be in.” dina sat forward, invested. she adjusted her ponytail, feeling hot from the summer heat that had crept in.

• “yeah, joel helped her out once when i wasn’t there. said she was over…overwhelmed? nah that wasn’t it.” ellie thought, picking at her lip wracking her memory.

• “overstimulated.” dina clarified, the tone in her voice indicating that this had given her some kind of realisation over the situation. “oh, poor thing. she is quite emotional huh, i’ve seen her get pretty worked up. yeah that makes so much sense.” dina pouted sympathetically touching her chest making ellie frown curiously.

• dina explained what it meant, ellie nodding along feeling like she should be taking notes.

• “you just need to comfort her, el. but be… mindful of what she needs in that moment. ask her.” she advised and ellie stood up, dusting off her pants and stretching her legs.

• “yeah, okay. shit — i’d be totally lost without you D, i’ll catch you later okay?”

• ellie’s now standing in the doorway to your shared room, playing with her hands as she watches you almost analytically for a moment before you notice her stood there. you’re drawing in your notepad, feeling a lot calmer from when you’d had a bit of an overstimulation fuelled breakdown earlier in the day.

• “hi els.” you greet casually, your voice quiet and a little hoarse from exhausting yourself earlier.

• “hey baby.” she wanders in, coming to perch on the edge of the bed next to where you were sat on the floor with your back to it. she gently runs a hand over the crown of your head, peering over at your paper. small doodles of animals and flowers and trees, she smiles. “can i… uh, ask you something?”

• a small ‘mhm’ sounds from you and she continues, drawing in a breath. “so… you know when you have those… you know when you kind of… freak out a little.” she begins, cringing at her word choice. she sees your pen stop shading and you tense up every so slightly, saying nothing for a moment before speaking.

• “ellie… i’m really sorry. i’m really trying to get better at controlling my emotions. you shouldn’t have to deal with —” you started and she’s jumping up to sit on the floor next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder with her face turned towards you, pinched in horror and guilt.

• “hey! no, no — babe, that’s- that’s not where i was going with that. at all. ‘kay? i was gonna ask— how can i help you? i wanna be there for you, ‘ya know? but i have no idea what to do and i feel like i’m being a totally shitty girlfriend so… lay it on me. tell me what you need.” she explained herself breathlessly, chasing each word like she was worried she wouldn’t explain fast enough and upset you.

• you deflated, turning to look at her with wide watery eyes, your heart melting.

• “you’re not a shitty girlfriend ellie.” you pout, leaning in and kissing her. you then help explain how you feel, and some warning signs that you’re getting overstimulated so she can help get you out of any situations that might make you freak out <3333

♡

[energysoda]

Breaking Bad Theory: How Walt Could've Gotten Away With It by Pretending to be Gay (Spoilers for the Entire Show)

Okay this has been on my mind for AWHILE. Since I was still watching season 5. Walter White could have potentially convinced (or at least given an alibi to) Hank that he wasn't Heisenberg by saying that he liked men. Particularly, Gale.

So, to set up the scene in Season 5 where Hank finds the Walt Whitman book and then connects all the dots to Walter. Walt goes and confronts him about the missing book, and Hank admits he figured out Walt is Heisenberg. Instead of going with it, Walt could have said this story:

He was bi. Or at least bicurious. Gale was one of his lovers. His whole life he had pushed down his attraction to men, but the cancer gave him a crisis because he believed that it was the end for him. So, thinking he was going to die soon, he started experimenting with this attraction with men. His whole "fugue state" was just another part of that crisis, he spent that time out of town talking to various different guys. Trying to figure himself out. This was always his reason for the two phones. And maybe he met Gale during his fugue state, or maybe it was a bit later. But either way, Walt could say they ended up getting involved.

He had absolutely no idea that Gale was involved in the meth business. He thought he was just a failed potential mind for science like himself. So when he found out that Gale was dead, and that they found those lab notes basically confessing to the crime-- he was shocked. It was hard to believe. He didn't say anything because he was ashamed of being gay. He was scared that Gale could have been shot as a hate crime, as well as if he told the truth that Hank would be homophobic to him: something he just couldn't handle since he was already experiencing so much in his life. He already lost a lover, he didn't want to lose his family too. Plus, it is already known that Walt has a huge ego and is extremely prideful, he could play into that if he thought to.

And the best part is, this would make a lot of sense. It would explain the fugue state, the second phone, his issues with Skyler-- Walt's weird behavior in general. Hank already thought he was having an affair, so why not go ahead and confirm it but with a twist Hank couldn't have expected? The time that Walt got drunk after Gale died could be explained as him grieving, and his saying that he didn't think Gale was Heisenberg could be explained off as denial that his lover could be the mastermind behind the Heisenberg case.

And Gale isn't exactly the text book example of a heterosexual man. Nah, he's gay as hell honestly. And that little note in his notes about W.W. being his shining star and perfect silence, could definitely be interpreted as a love note. And hey, the notes already had random stuff like doodles and brownie recipes so why not add other unrelated stuff like love notes in it?

His gift of the Walt Whitman book to Walter could also help support this. Walt Whitman was speculated to be homosexual or bisexual, particularly because of his poetry. Walter could totally explain the gift as a symbol of their relationship, especially with the note "to my other favorite W.W."

Anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk, I guess it was never meant to be though since Walter White's stupid ass pride would never allow him to go with this. But it's interesting how well it would have worked, and honestly I do think Gale did have some sort of feelings for him. Tbh. Because that Walt Whitman thing and the love note and just Gale being Gale in general is very compelling evidence to me.

But yeah, I guess this is just another example of how if Walter's ego and pride got in the way, and how he could have made a lot smarter moves and would have been able to keep himself going if he wasn't so stupid about that pride. Another example of how ego destroys intelligence.

[oscopiastr1]

i'll be your fantasy

Summary: George has been helping Peter and Mr. Dawson maintain Moonstone, their trusty boat. Before making the biggest decision of his life, he had some time to think about what it truly means to love and to be loved.

Warnings: Mentions of death due to character’s fate on the story, fluff moments of love, inspiration taken from the song truly, madly, deeply covered by Yoke Lore.

Word count: 2.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! So, as you can see per my username, I’m a big Barry Keoghan fan and one of my favorite characters of his is George from Dunkirk (2017). I’ve searched for a while and couldn’t really find that many writings of this boy, so I wrote one for myself and decided to share it here because I think it turned out sweet and comforting. That’s it! I hope at least one of you likes it!

George saw you coming back from school, gently pedaling on your pastel blue bike. The breeze was running through your hair, the sun lightly making your face blush from the heat. Sometimes he thought you looked like his favorite song — the personification of what peacefulness felt like.

A sheen of red burned his cheeks when he realized you saw him peeping out of the window. You kindly wave at him, a burst of small laughter escaping your lips. He opens the front door to greet you, but not before adjusting his vest and white shirt collar. He was on his way to meet you, after all. He had to look good.

“Hi Georgie,” you say, parking your bike on the spot right next to your house’s fence. “Didn’t show up to class today.” Again.

“You know, didn’t feel like it.” He chuckles, eyes squinting a bit to avoid the sun. “My dad says that I never do anything in my life, so I thought I’d help Mr. Dawson and Peter with their boat. Been coming back and forth from there now.”

“That’s quite nice. I would probably rather join you than go to school myself.” You see the boy blush with an awkward grin on his face. He was loving those little interactions you would both share on afternoons, and he also couldn’t help but cherish the fact that you noticed every time he didn’t show up in school. “I can pass you the homework afterward if you’re still up for that.”

“Nah, that’s okay. It’s not like I’m going to do it anyway.” But as soon as he realizes what it meant to have you passing him homework, he starts fidgeting with his fingers. He wants to spend time with you, whether it was doing homework or helping your fix the peddles of your bicycle, he wanted to be on your side. “But erm… I think it would be nice. Maybe we can go to the docks? I know you like to study by the sea.”

Well, you didn’t know he knew that. He smiled at you, softly, as you nodded in response. “I would love to, Georgie.” Your smile seemed to flourish the butterflies on his stomach. “Let me just freshen up a bit, and I’ll meet you back here.”

Sometimes Peter and he would be fixing something on the boat or helping with the cracks opening on the dock. The sea smell cuddled him up, he felt relaxed and at ease when suddenly Peter would gaze at you, sitting on the edge of the street, legs going back and forth, and he would pat George on the back. It’s your girl, he used to say. With the sun going down, just a flicker of orange light delicately patting your face, he admired from afar. Always with a heavy book on hand and pen, writing or doodling. He loved that view.

And ever since he got the courage to talk to you, he didn’t mention it once, but now it seemed the right time to. There you were, smiling at him with tenderness, little wrinkles forming on the corners of your eyes like you would do when genuinely having a good time. He didn’t even know a smile could bring so much warmth to his heart.

That sounded more and more like a date and he wanted you to think that too.

****

Just a couple of minutes passed, and while you were getting ready, you felt the sudden urge to get him something. Maybe something sweet, or perhaps a basket of little muffins, you thought. But you didn’t have that much time to buy those — you’d have to go to the bakery on the corner, and since it was afternoon already, the treats wouldn’t be fresh out of the oven. You paced a little bit by yourself in your room, curiously watching the front yard of the house behind the vanilla-colored curtains, to see if he was already expecting you there. Then you saw little flowers blooming right next to the fence, a couple of burning-red roses, which you thought were perfect for the occasion.

The odds were that he would never understand right away, because why would he? But your mom always said that the red roses symbolize romance, love, and passion, everything you desperately wanted George to feel from you. The truth is, when he did go to school, you always paid close attention to him. He was either drawing on his notebook or snoozing in between classes, but you also caught a glimpse now and then of his kindness towards his classmates, the professors, and the lunch lady.

It was the little things that made you flustered in his presence. The small pieces of generosity he chose to give away. The gentle smile, the need to be that person. And every time you entered a room, you would scan around quickly, searching for him and his eyes.

On the house next door, George was rehearsing. After those months when all he could do was give you little compliments in class, or help you when your bike got a little rusty from time to time, he was finally able to spend more time with you and get to know you. He thought about asking you on a date, officially. He did even save up some money from his part-time jobs to afford a decent café or something like that. But well, maybe today was the day he could approach you and tell you how he felt. How his heart almost gives up when he sees you, how his mouth dries out, and although you provoked those types of feelings, he would also feel blissful. Optimistic. Like spending a whole day on the beach, bathing in sunlight, having ice cream and walking on the fluffy sand.

****

With the flowers wrapped with silk paper, you stood sitting on the wood bench in front of your house. Your feet were swinging in the air, not touching the floor.

“Ready to go?” His slightly raspy voice caught your attention — he had a cheeky smile on his face. “Who are those for?” George asked innocently.

“Ah, these are for you!” You answered, promptly standing up, dusting off imaginary dirt on the hem of your dress. “I just… wanted to give you something. And, boys never get flowers, but they should.” You stuttered behind your smile.

Why didn’t he think of giving YOU flowers? His reaction was almost immediate, gently taking the few roses you’ve perfectly arranged.

“That’s really sweet, I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I -” Before he continued, your hand reached for his other one, resting by his side. Your fingers touched before completing the embrace between them. The words didn’t come through as he blushed, but he squeezed your hand, comforting himself in the process. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

You just nodded with a mellow smile completing your face. His hand felt perfect on yours, the slight grip making your heart pound. If only he could feel what you were feeling.

But he was feeling it. If there were any doubts in his head that you felt the same way, they were long gone. Your hands together were the most perfect assurance he could think of.

The walk until the dock was filled with laughter, little talks, gentle strokes from his fingers on yours, and mostly, the sentiment of being at home. In safe heaven where you could say anything and be anything. He definitely felt more and more comfortable speaking, as you would hope to.

As you finally reached the beach, you sat down on the little wood ramp that guided people to the sand. It was comfortable enough for both of you to share the spot for yourselves.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He said after a moment of silence. You were taking in the breeze coming from the ocean ahead of you, eyes shut, breathing at a calming pace. He didn’t want to disturb your peace, but at the same time, he wanted to do this right. “Love, I’m bad with words, hopefully, you’re good at reading eyes?”

As he said it, you turned your gaze to him. His deep blue eyes seemed to be humming affection towards you, you felt it shifting between your eyes and your lips. He was so close, you could almost taste his scent. It’s like you could lose track of time just by being there with him.

“Yes?” You couldn’t help but mimic his gaze.

“I’ve always felt a little out of place. I didn’t have much interest in my life, never really made my father proud of me, I guess.” His laughter sounded more like a whisper. “But I always wanted to make something out of it.”

“Maybe appear on the local newspaper and such.” You said observingly with a weak smile. You remember he said that on the way over here.

“Yeah, maybe.” He reached for one lock of hair falling out of place, keeping it behind your ear. “Do something meaningful, have a family.” As he said the last part, you could swear you felt his demeanor shift from an already kind to a more loving one.

“I would like that too.” You said, interlocking your hand on his. “But sometimes we are dreaming too much when we should be living in the moment. I would love to have my fantasies come true, but I can’t count on it anytime soon.”

“I’ll be your fantasy.” His groggy voice was getting a hold of him. He didn’t know if it was the beach, being there with you, having received flowers, but he felt enough courage to say whatever his heart wanted him to. “I’ll be your dream, I’ll be your wish and be anything that you need.”

He said he wasn’t good with words. Liar.

His promises didn’t seem empty, though. He seemed genuine, almost pleading to be heard. To be loved, to be cared for.

It sounded like a confession with a twist as if you were exchanging vows in the presence of the highest powers. You hoped for love, and you could never think that love was shaped like this. A boy with bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a warm heart. And yet, there he was, the embodiment of love. And he felt the same way about you.

Your pretty little vows were sealed with a kiss. A deep and passionate one, one that lingered for less time than you wished for. If you could, you would never leave his embrace and your head would forever be leaning on his chest. It fit so perfectly, you wouldn’t have even dreamed of it.

He couldn’t bring himself to let you go, his forehead touching yours, happiness radiating from his whole body. You were quite amused how his posture changed from one moment to the other — he was so much more relaxed right now.

“Do you want to go on a date with me? Officially?" He took your hand and placed a kiss, then lifted his eyes to look at you.

“Of course,” you laughed. “I thought it was pretty clear that I want to go on this adventure with you.”

“What adventure, love?” His head tumbled to the side.

“Life, Georgie. Life!” Your voice was so clearly excited. Your arms opened up, wiggling to the sides, reaching for a hug.

“If this is life, then I want to live like this forever,” he laughed, imitating your gestures, letting your face lean into his neck. “Until the skies fall down over me.”

“Such a lovable dramatic person, aren’t you? Didn’t know this side of yours.”

“It’s ‘cause you bring the most sensible side of me.” He responded, looking down at you. Arms still wrapping you up. “My pretty girl.”

****

He left you on the front of the gate of your house, even though he would have to circle back to the dock to meet Moonstone, Mr. Dawson, and Peter, for the last tasks of maintenance of the boat. He didn’t want you to go home by yourself, so he escorted you back.

“There you go,” he said, placing a smooch on your cheek. “See you later tonight?”

“Tonight, it’s a date.” You cupped his face, slowly stroking his chin, bringing him closer for a kiss.

The red roses were left with you as well as he asked if you could put them on a vase. You told him they would die eventually but he didn’t care — as long as they were alive, he wanted to keep it.

The hours without him only reminded you of how precious the times with him were. Gosh, you were only seventeen, you were allowed to miss him and long for him. Your lives together had only started.

****

The next day, another no-show. He didn’t come home last night, he wasn’t anywhere to be found by you. A knock on your door made your heart beat faster than a bullet leaving a gun, and when you heard what the person standing in front of you told you, it was like an actual bullet had breached through your chest.

“He died on the boat,” Mr. Dawson said. “He fell, knocked his head down on the floor and that was it.” The bag under his eyes showed signs of sadness and exhaustion.

“How did you know,” you were swallowing tears forming in your eyes. “How did you know that I was expecting him?”

“He said it,” Peter said as he stood behind his dad. His voice was low, he had been crying. “He said that he finally understood love… and he said your name.”

“You were important to him, please know that. Don’t forget him.”

Peter’s words echoed in your head when you saw Georgie again.

He was there. Well, his photo was. Printed in the newspaper with his school uniform and a sweet smile.

“Local Boy,

George Mills,

Just 17,

Hero at Dunkirk”.

“I won’t ever forget.” You thought to yourself.

Now and then you would go back to the dock. You’ve cut that photo of him from the newspaper since you hadn’t had any other, and carried it in your wallet. Days became months, and months became years, longing for a love that was so pure, you couldn’t understand what sick joke the universe had planned out for you.

Yet, you were partially happy that on his last day on Earth, he was able to feel love. He felt your love, your touch, and he was content. His laughter sounded so much more bright and his eyes showered you with so much endearment. You could hardly shake that feeling out of you.

In the end, he got what he wanted. To be remembered as relevant and significant. His dad was finally proud.

And as to you, he was a memory to be remembered forever with fondness. The boy that wanted to marry you, to be your love, your wish, your fantasy. To be anything that you needed.

A/N: Hi! Thank you if you read until the end! This is my first fic posted in here :) Feedback is much appreciated, feel free to tell me your thoughts (even if you think it sucks!!). Also, apologize for any writing errors! Aaand, the song that inspired me to write!

[flirtlixie]

Proposed by a Demon Lord ; Yuta x Reader

Chapter 4

previous ; next

Warnings! : Mentions of food, tea

Words : 1217

Notes : merry christmas! <3

( tag list : @vitaminbtob ; @foreverstaytinyzen-skzxatinyxnct ) if you wanna be in (or out) the taglist just send me an ask ;) <3

Class with Haechan wasn't actually much of a class. Haechan had a book opened and explained the things on it freely. "so? was it difficult?" "hmm, nah. it was okay" "smarter that i thought" Haechan stared at me in amazement

"to be honest, Haechan don't like these" and Haechan threw the history book at the corner of the room "ha, ahaha..." "break for 10 minutes!" he stretched his arms in the air, and leaned on the back of the chair (ha.. hahah.. who am i...? where am i...?)

"but, don't you have anything you want to know?" Haechan asked "hmm, what i want to know..." (how to return to my world.) but surely, Haechan wouldn't know the way, so i closed my mouth (will i be able to run away?) there may be a way to return to my world once i get outside this castle. when my thought reached that point, a plan started to roll out in front of my eyes.

"hmm, maybe the structure of this castle? i think i should at least know the ways to move around here". the ultimate plan was to get a hold of this castle's map, and run "hmm...." Haechan seemed to be deep in thoughts. "what is it?" "nah, it's just what Lord said. Yuta told me not to let you outside the castle" (whoa, Yuta is quite concerned about it... do i look like a runaway? well... though i do intent to run...) "but well, i guess this won't matter" when Haechan twirled his finger lightly, a piece of parchment appeared "here. it's a map" (there should be a way out if i see it close enough...) "...wh-what's this?" i couldn't help myself but to shout in surprise. The map was full of pictogram-like words (strange... i could understant everything on the book...)

It was a strange thing, but i could understand the languages of this wolrd. but the words on this map was impossible to understand "is this a drawing, or a doodle...? how am i supposed to read this?" "oh, this? of course you can't" "what?" i was dumbfounded at his words "it's the ancient language" "ancient... language?" "yeap. i think Yuta wrote it himself. you know, to keep the castle structure from being exposed even if the map falls int the wrong hands...? but! Haechan can read it. tee-hee~!"

(Is he... teasing me...?) i slowly opened my mouth pressing the frustration inside "but-, phew-, i can't read it this way" "hmm, but i don't think i'm supposed to help others to read it since Yuta wrote this way himself..." (oh no, my grand plan to take a run...) i burried my face into my hands in despair."...well, fine. Yuta never got mad at Haechan so, it'd be okay..."

When Haechan twirled his finger once more, the map started to emit a bright light. "now, place your hand-..." then Haechan suddenly stopped his words "hey." "huh?" "you're not planning to run away, are you?" (th-that smile... it's creepy...) insted of replying, i nodded my head "alright. place your hand over the map. i'll cast and enchantment so you could understantd the words if you're worthy." i couldn't understand what he meant, but i eagerly placed my hand "wow..."

it was a strange experience. words slowly sepped into my brain and spread to my boyd "oh, i see it now." the doodles on the map started to look like languages "this is amazing!" "well, it's not a difficult magic"

leaving Haechan shrugging behind, i started to memorize the map. (scape route, escape route...) i searched for the closest escape route from my room. ( ah, found one.) there was a door leading to outside at the and of a curved corridor ( but what should i do after i get outside the castle?! meh, is this plan a failure...?) as i was letting out a sigh, i spotted something name 'teleport point' "Haechan, what's this 'teleport point'?" "oh, that? you just stand there and you'll be teleported to some other places. i think that's for other Lords to use. that teleport point will lead to... hmm.. probably the desser cave leading to the human world"

(!!!)

i quickly memorized the teleport point's location (great! i can go home, now!!) my heart started to fill up with hope "Haechan." "oopsie." as i was about to look at the point once more, "who told you to teach her this?" Yuta suddenly appeared and snatched away the map. "i'm sorry Yuta."

Haechan apoligized with an expression and voice which didn't look apologetic at all "well, that's fine" Yuta snapped his fingers and the map disappeared to nowhere "y/n" Yuta slowly called my name "you-, are not running away, are you?" "...." i couln't breathe, as if i was standing before a predator "o-of course not-" i barely let my voice out "good. then-" Yuta looked around and smiled "let's go have snacks!" Yuta's aura changed completely "what?" "snacks? this old man needs to fill up some sugar"

Yuta made his usual drowsy face and replied (really... i can never understand his true nature...) "yay, snack time! snack time!" Haechan jumped up and down in joy and headed outside with Yuta. i traced back on the map in my mind once more (... but... i want to go home.) "yn, what are you doing?" "oh, i'm coming!" i hurriedly got up from the seat when Yuta called for me

"oh yay, i love it! snack time~" Haechan scooped up a spoon full of cake, humming joyfully "it's beautiful here" "well, it may not be as pretty as the eastern castle's garden, but this garden's not so bad either" Yuta replied with a slightly proud smile. we were in the middle of a tea house, with a garden full of tropical trees and fruits "i thought you were too lazy for breakfast? how come you care to have a tea time?" "when you come this age, you can't do anything if you're low in sugar." he protested calmly. and shoved two macarons into his mouth at once "ah, handkerchief"

a servant nearby instantly brought him a white handkerchief (... so many of them.) the tea house was full of maids, waiting for Yuta's order (... i don't think i can digest well... it was much more comfortable with no one around me...) i felt intimidated with dozens of eyes staring at me eating "why aren't you eating? you were pouring the stew into your mouth earlier" "it's just... i've never eaten like this, surrounded by so many people" "hmm" Yuta snapped his fingers "all of you, wait inside the castle" instantly, all the servants disappeared into thin air "are you fine without any servants?" "well, it could be a little discomforting-" Yuta shrugged his shoulders, and poured some tea into his tea cup himself "but i don't wanna make you uncomfortable" "..."

(wow, i'm actually a bit touched.) i felt grateful for his kindness "oops, i spilt it" Yuta who was blankly pouring the tea, eventually spilt it "oi, i need my handker- right, i dismissed them" "hey lord, you look so stupid, haha." "who are you calling stupid? i just forget for a sec" (... would this guy be okay?) i let out a deep sigh. it was a sigh tangled with both worries and doubts

[duvetsandpillows]

Lucky One

Pete Davidson x Reader 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of needles, slight angst, drug use

A/N: This is my first Pete fic but I think I will definitely be writing more. Please let me know what you think!

I sat in bed, joint in one hand, lighter in the other. I’d been staring at the wall for the past half hour or so, drowning in my thoughts, forgetting the joint I’d been fiddling with was there to be smoked.

I was thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Have I taken my antidepressant? What do they do with the bagel holes? You’re gonna be alone forever. Don’t forget your earring is behind the back left leg of the desk. New thoughts beginning before the last one could end. I was exhausted yet I hadn’t done anything to warrant feeling so drained. I’d only left my bed to piss.

“Hey you home?” I glanced over at my door, reality setting back in, before realizing how messy my bed was; sketchbook and pencils scattered everywhere, weed crumbs and ash from not paying attention to what I was doing and empty monster cans. I kicked as much as I could off the end of the bed before putting the long forgotten joint to my lips and sparking it. The door slowly opened, Pete standing in the doorway holding a bag and a coffee.

“Whatcha doing in bed B?” he asked climbing into the bed handing me the coffee. I took a toke and thanked him while passing him the joint.

“I just don’t feel like moving. I feel like shit, my brain won’t stop for just a second. I just want everything to stop.” My voice breaking as I began to fight back tears. He blew smoke into the air, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side, handing me the joint.

“Breathe B, you’re gonna be okay. I know that sounds like bullshit but I’m here to help you through it.” I took a take and wiped a stray tear from my eye. “It’s always been me and you hasn’t it, that’s not gonna stop now. Did you take your antidepressant today?”

“I can’t remember,” I squeaked, letting the tears win the battle. Pete put his other arm around my chest and squeezed tight, resting his hand on the back of my head and rubbing his thumb.

He would whisper little pick me-ups every few minutes while I cried. “At least you didn’t walk straight into a street light like I did.” I looked up to see him pointing to a small bruise on his forehead. “I saw a woman carrying a dog in a baby sling thing and then boom! Street Light.” I giggled before taking a deep breath and wiping my tears with my sleeves.

“I guess you could say she threw you off your rhythm.” He rolled his eyes and pushed my head playfully before chuckling.

We’d been friends practically our whole lives, yet it was rare for us to talk about deep shit. Not because we didn’t care but we were good at talking each others minds off all the bullshit. 

“Movie, smoke, munch? I brought gushers and twizzlers.”

“Only if I get to pick.”

“Obviously, you always pick.” I scoffed and sat up, rolling my eyes.

“Bullshit, we constantly watching The Mule.”

“Not my fault you can’t appreciate a masterpiece,” he said as he grabbed my rolling tray from the end of the bed and I began flicking through Netflix for something to watch.

“Your hair looks nice by the way,” he mumbled, eyes focused on rolling the joint. I glanced over at my reflection in the mirror, I looked as if I’d just climbed out of the hedge. I smiled and thanked him, deciding to put on Knocked Up.

Pete told me what he’d been up to all week and who the guests were gonna be while we watched the film. I made him a twizzler ring and he attempted to make me a bracelet but he couldn’t work out how to get the knot to stay tight.” After a couple more joints I sat up on my knees and faced him.

“Could... I maybe colour in your tattoos?” I asked, placing my hand on his leg to stay balanced, realizing how high I was after not moving for so long.

“Yeah of course, which one first?” I smiled and pointed to the unicorn on his arm and leant off the end of the bed to grab my pens, Pete grabbing hold of my foot as I almost fell off. After I’d finished the unicorn I moved onto the direwolf underneath. Pete was flicking through the pages of my sketchbook as I added icy blue to the eyes.

“Y’know,” he started, passing me a joint, “I reckon you could be a tattoo artist. You could even practice on me.” I stopped and looked at him a bit taken back.

“I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Maybe you should.”

Once I finished the direwolf I looked up to see Pete had dozed off, I smiled and pulled a blanket over him, moving the sketchbook off his lap. I rolled a joint and glanced at the open drawing of a group of clouds I’d been working on but hadn’t yet worked out what should accompany them.

I thought about what Pete said and picked up the sketchbook and a pencil. I smoked while drawing Frank the bunny’s head from Donnie Darko. It was my favourite film and Pete had watched it with me countless times.

After an hour or so I finished the outline and most of the infill with different shades of blue. I felt Pete roll over and put his arm across my lap. I looked down to see him, eyes half open, observing my drawing.

“That’s amazing.” His voice gruff and low.

“Thank you,” I said passing him a monster from my bedside table. He sat up partially and took a sip before handing it back to me. “Good nap?” He nodded and laid back down into my side.

“You should put that on me,” He kicked his leg out from under the blanket and pointed to the side of his thigh. “Here would be perfect.”

“If you’d like.” He sat up again and gently tore the sketch out of the book.

“Come on then.” I frowned and tilted my head slightly. “There’s a guy that could do this now, you could get one too?”

I stared at him in a bit of shock, not expecting him to actually want one of my pieces on his body. I thought he was saying it just to be nice. Also as I’d never considered getting a tattoo before. Not because I didn’t like them but more because I was nervous; I wasn’t great with needles and if tattoo’s would suit me.

“You up for it?”

“What if I look awful with one?” I blurted, Pete’s smile morphed into confusion.

“Why would you look awful?” You always look great.” I could feel my cheeks getting warm and I couldn’t help but ever so slightly smile. “Plus I think you’d look hot with one,” he mumbled handing me the sketchbook, open to a small drawing of a sheep I’d done high while watching Shaun the Sheep.

“It’s small, if you want it to be hidden then it’s easy.” I looked down at the doodle and thought about it for a moment.

“Fuck it lets go.”

I sat on a chair next to Pete watching as the tattoo artist, Jon, carefully traced over the light purple outline in dark blue ink. I began adding to my sheep. A few clouds in the background, similar to the ones on Pete’s.

“What you doing?” I handed him the paper, glancing over at his leg, in awe at how it was turning out. I looked back at Pete who was smiling at the drawing. I held out the pencil to him, when he didn’t notice I poked his arm with it.

“Ow, dick,” he said pouting and rubbing his arm. “What am I meant to do with this?”

“Add something to it, you got a piece of me,” I pointed to his leg. “Your turn.”

“I can’t draw like you and-”

“And I don’t care. Draw.”

While Pete drew, not phased at all by the needle going in and out of his leg, I chatted with Jon, asking him question about how he became a tattoo artist and what it’s like. I was slowly becoming more interested the more I watched him work. Once he was done he turned to me.

“You ready?” he asked, I nodded nervously and Pete passed him the design. Pete swapped places with me after taking a look at it in the floor length mirror. I decided to get it on my arm as I decided I wanted to always be able to see it now Pete had added to it. I told them I didn’t want to see it until it was finished, wanting Pete’s addition to be a surprise. I looked over at Pete, nerves starting to kick in a little.

“Have I ever told you I’m not brilliant with needles?” He chuckled and took my hand in his.

“Yep,” I winced as the needle hit my skin. “Like the time you gave blood because you thought that nurse was cute and threw up all over him before fainting.” I chuckled before biting the inside of my cheek and gripped his hand tight. “You’re good, just keep your eyes this way,”

Pete kept chatting with me and rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand, keeping me distracted from the pain.

“Should I be nervous with what you drew? It’s just clicked how much trust I’ve given you.” He pursed his lips, holding back either as smile or a laugh. “Pete...”

“Nah nah nah, it’s not that bad, but you said to add a bit of me. Trust me you’ll love it.” I raised my eyebrows before gripping his hand again, feeling a muscle in my arm unintentionally spasm.

“You’re good, it happens sometimes, we’re almost done here.”

After ten more minutes it was all done and he was wiping it up. It was aching it a little but I was really excited to see it.

“You ready to see it?” I nodded and looked at my arm to see the best tattoo I could imagine. The clouds were a beautiful combination of greys and whites, my sheep now with a spliff in its mouth and a second, slightly wonky looking, sheep with a spliff also in its mouth and sunglasses on. It kind of looked like a child drew the second sheep but I loved it even more for that.

“I put our initials at the bottom so we don’t forget who is who.” I giggled looking at his scruffy handwriting underneath. “So... what do you think?”

“I fucking love it!” I said wrapping my arms around him hugging him as tight as I could. “Thank you Pete.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek and let Jon wrap my arm up in cling film.

We grabbed some Taco Bell on the way home, I was designated DJ and he driver. I was, questionably, rapping along to Colson and Corpse’s new song while Pete laughed at me. He slipped his hand into mine, giving it a small squeeze and continued driving and started rapping along as if that was a normal for us to hold hands. I smiled and gave his a squeeze back even though I was a bit shocked. Shocked but yet it felt normal.

“You can roll the next one, my arm aches,” I said flopping onto my bed.

“Is that gonna be your excuse for the next week?” 

“Did it work?” I looked up to see him shaking his head and chuckling as he picked up the rolling tray.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” I smiled and winked as it sat up. 

“You’re lucky too, you get to look at this cute face all the time.” Pete leant forward and took my hand, pulling me into his lap.

“What would you say, if I asked you out... to dinner or something?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and furrowed my eyebrows.

“What like a date?” His smile and confidence drained from his face immediately and I had to force myself to hold back a laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be no, I just- aw fuck.” I started pissing myself laughing, holding onto him tight to keep my balance.

“Yes I’d love to go on a date, if you hurry up and roll that joint, I teased winking at him, swinging myself off his lap. “I’ll even put on The Mule yeah?”

“I’m definitely the lucky one.”

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Their Girl

Loosely based off of several cases that have, unfortunately, taken place in schools.

Mabel defends herself when a boy touches her, only to be the one to get in trouble. Not on her grunkles watch.

~~~~~~~~~~

“In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the - Anyone? Anyone? - the Great Depression, passed a - Anyone? Anyone? - a tariff bill. The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act, which - Anyone? Raised or lowered? - raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the Federal Government.”

Mabel leaned back in her desk chair to stretch. It was cold in the high school, but luckily her seat was right in the sunshine, warming her up like a lizard on a rock. Her baggy yellow sweater fell off her left shoulder and she let it without giving it much of a second thought, then watched some birds on a tree as the Economics teacher droned on.

“Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the United States fell deeper into the Great Depression.”

Tenth grade was too young to learn about something so boring. This was for suckers who paid money for it, like college students. Mabel held her breath to keep herself from snorting over her own inner thoughts. Grunkle Stan would be proud of her, she thought, and her thoughts wandered to him and Grunkle Ford, until she was snapped back into reality. Literally.

“Today, we have a similar debate over this, anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Laffer Curve.”

A boy behind her (his name slipped her mind at the proper moment) was playing with her exposed bra strap. It felt like he had grabbed it, barely pulled it back, and let go. At first, she thought maybe it was an accident. Unlike, but possible. But then it happened again, this time the boy pulled the bra strap far enough that when he let go it slapped against her skin a little. It didn’t hurt, and the teacher’s boring voice drowned out the noise, but still.

“Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the revenue curve you will get exactly the same amount of revenue as at this point.”

Mabel turned around sharply at once and gave him a deadly glare. “Stop it.” She whispered firmly.

The boy grinned menacingly, and sneered just as quietly, “Make me.”

Mabel whipped her head back, making sure her long ponytail hit him in the face, but though her actions stopped him for a moment, soon he was back to pulling on her bra strap, each time pulling back farther and farther.

“This is very controversial. Anyone know what President George H. W. Bush called this in 1980? Anyone? Something-D-O-O Economics. Voodoo Economics.”

A loud snap sound echoed, a yell of pain and aggravation, and then Mabel Pines stood so sharply her chair fell backwards, turned around, and punched the jerk in the face, left-hook boxing style.

“Ms. Pines!” The teacher scolded loudly.

The whole class was on the edge of their seats. All the kids had seen what happened; the ones sitting closest to the pair had been well aware of what was going on since the beginning. While they were hopeful the jerk would get what’s coming to him, they all knew that wasn’t likely. Not under the most sexist teacher’s nose.

“To Mr. William’s office. Now.” He growled.

“But he was touching my bra!” Mabel defended. “He was invading my personal bubble even though I told him to back off!”

“It’s a very small classroom, Ms. Pines. And maybe he wouldn’t have touched it if you didn’t have it out for the whole world to see.” The man said coldly and pointed to the door. “Now please leave my classroom.”

Mabel knew there was no point in defending herself. She did a quick glance around the room to see if anyone would defend her, but no one looked ready to jump into the line of fire. She understood why. This guy had a bad reputation. Mabel loudly stuffed her notebook filled with doodles into her backpack, took it and her small purse, and stomped out of the classroom.

She did manage to catch the blood coming out of the boy’s nose and grinned.

At Mr. William’s office, the sweet secretary with old-lady glasses offered her a mint and was very nice to her. But soon Mr. William entered the room and had Mabel enter his office. Apparently the teacher had called ahead so Mabel didn’t have to tell the principal what happened, leaving the girl to feel like she was walking into the Lion’s Den.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper left his Robotics class to meet up with Mabel, who normally would be leaving Economics, so they could walk to their last class, Language Arts 10, together. Economics emptied pretty quickly thanks to the boredom, so Dipper was a bit confused when he didn’t see his twin sister out in the hall, and wondered if she was in the bathroom.

He saw a fellow student who shared Mabel’s Economics class, Rose, leave the ladies’ room, and so he asked, “Hey Rose, is Mabel in there?”

She shook her head. “Nah, didn’t you hear? She got sent to the office for punching Jeremy.”

Dipper grinned with pride, but it quickly went away; Mabel would only do that if Jeremy was doing something. “What’d he do?”

“Smacked her with her own bra strap.” Rose pulled down the neck of her t-shirt and demonstrated, “Like this.” And she pulled her bra strap and let go, making it snap.

“Are you kidding me?!” Dipper yelled and his eyes landed on the teacher to his right, standing with his arms crossed and looking out for rule-breakers.

The young man growled in his throat like an angry dog, ready to tell the jerk off, but he felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his phone while Rose walked away. Dipper calmed down a little, sighed, and walked to the lockers to lean against them as he responded to his newest text. He had no intention of going to Language Arts. He’d be on his way to the office soon enough in case his sister needed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford re-read the maps and plans for Spring Break with an exciting grin all over his face. Soon the kids would be out of school and take a bus to the pier where he and Stan had docked the Stan O’ War II, then they would sail alongside the California shore, fishing, sailing, and occasionally swimming, for a whole week. They had been planning this since the holidays, when they had all facetimed for five hours while the old sailors were on the shores of the Netherlands. The kids had practically begged to go on the boat with them, and so they agreed to sail alongside Russia and visit California, planning to then re-visit Alaska quickly before sailing down to Oregon for the summer.

Stan climbed up from the cabin below as he pulled on his white t-shirt. “How much longer until the kids are free from prison?”

Ford rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “Ninety minutes. And it’s a twenty minute drive, so it’ll be about another two hours, Stanley.”

The youngest of the pair by fifteen minutes groaned and collapsed on the couch. “I could always hotwire a car and we could see them now. We can pretend one of us died and so we need the kids now.”

“Stanley, no.”

“Stanley YES!”

Ford chuckled and rolled up the map. “Text them if you miss them so much.”

“Maybe I will.” Stan snorted and pulled out his phone to text in the group chat. “Surviving okay, kids?” Just a casual greeting, and he and Ford were pleasantly surprised to get a little buzz back not a minute longer.

“Not really.”

Stan raised an eyebrow while Ford had his back to him and was organizing his papers. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Little dots appeared and reappeared. Stan knew what that meant. Dipper was being careful how he answered. Stan decided to check, and sure enough Mabel hadn’t even seen the texts yet. When he got a small paragraph back, Stan nearly crushed his phone in his fist. “WHAAAAAT?!”

Ford jumped a foot in the air and held his chest. “Christ, Stan, what…”

“Check your phone, Genius! We’re going to Piedmont. NOW!” And Stan slapped on his beanie and stormed out of the cabin of the ship with a slam of the door.

Ford picked up his phone, which had been lying face-down on the table, and once he was caught up on messages, he matched his twin’s anger and made sure his ray gun was in his blue hoodie as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, letting Mr. Williams go on his tangent. According to the school nurse, she had broken Jeremy’s nose. Good. That’s what he gets for touching her. But apparently Mr. Williams disagreed, saying things like how her actions were unlawful and that she had no right to punch another student.

“Under no circumstances should you ever punch a fellow student, Ms. Mabel.” Mr. Williams said firmly.

“But he was touching me!” Mabel quickly injected, in some effort to defend herself. “He was pulling on my bra strap and smacking me with it! And I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Mr. Williams snorted as he reached into his desk. “Well maybe next time you won’t wear such revealing clothes? How else are people supposed to pay attention to the lesson?”

Mabel felt her heart drop. She looked back down at her sweater, her purposely baggy yellow sweater that she had knitted herself a few months ago. This sweater - in fact, none of her sweaters - had ever been a problem before. Mabel plucked at her top and said in a quiet, timid voice, “But I made this.”

Mr. Williams glanced up from what he was writing for a second, before mumbling bitterly with his cold eyes on his paper, “Let the professionals make your clothes, okay? If you don’t want to find yourself in trouble then try wearing suitable clothing.”

Mabel felt her entire face turn red. She was so angry and so hurt and she saw no possible way out of this, so she decided to bite her lip and hide the lower-half of her face in her sweater, shrinking in her seat and lifting her yellow sweater up a bit.

“Now, I am giving you three weeks of detention.” Mr. Williams said. “Two for violence and invading a student’s personal bubble, and one for breaking dress…”

The door opened sharply. Mabel turned and her jaw was wide open to find her great-uncles at the foot of the office. At first she was jubilant to see them again, but then terrified to see them so angry. She had never seen them so mad. She knew they could be scary when they wanted to, but they had always seemed like soft old teddy bears to Mabel, what with their fluffy gray hair and warm hugs and squishy tummy-tums to snuggle against. Mabel was a little unhinged to find their faces darkened with anger. She could see a vein popping out of Stan’s forehead. Ford appeared to try to be collected, but his aura was as black as an imploding star, matching his brother’s quite well.

Mabel stood on shaking knees. Her uncles softened, ignoring the cold look Mr. Williams was giving them, and Stan was at her in an instant, with Ford right behind him, rubbing her shoulders and looking over her. “Mabel, sweetie, are you okay? Did he hurt you? I swear to Moses if that…”

“I’m okay, Grunkle Stan, I promise.” Mabel soothed, trying to smile, but she was still really nervous. “I… Wow, it’s great to see you guys, I missed you, but why are you here?”

“Dipper contacted us.” Ford said softly. “Said you were in trouble. What exactly happened?”

“She pu-...”

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford growled at Mr. Williams. Mabel actually shivered. She was so used to hearing a smooth, warm, comforting voice come from him, that hearing it growl like an animal like that startled her. “I am talking to my niece.” His eyes moved back on Mabel and he was instantly much warmer and not as scary. “What happened, pumpkin?”

“I was in Economics when this boy, Jeremy, was plucking at my bra strap.”

“Please show us exactly what he did.”

“Does it matter?!” Stan snapped. “He touched her!”

“Stanley, please,” Ford gave him a firm look, then returned his attention back to their girl. “Humor me.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. She had pulled her sweater down so it had covered both shoulders and sagged a bit on her chest. Now she moved it so her left shoulder was completely exposed, and she pinched at her strap. “It started like this,” She barely lifted it up, having little effect or sound. “But then after I told him to stop, he did this.” And Mabel pulled back far enough that when she let go it made a harsh slapping sound against her skin.

“Wait a minute,” Stan had caught a glimpse of it the moment she lowered her sweater. He gently turned her to look at the back of her shoulder, and he saw red. Literally. Her skin was reddening from the aggression. Not enough to swell or require ice, but enough to indicate just how invading and violent the action had been.

Stan was growling in his throat. He squeezed Mabel’s forearms reassuringly and said, “We’ll handle this, pumpkin.”

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Williams said firmly, still acting professional and snobbish. “Your niece here has violated several school rules and even went as far as to break a student’s nose.”

“You did?” Stan asked and patted her back. “That’s my girl!”

Mr. William’s nostrils flared. “Gentlemen, that is not what we should be teaching young…”

“While breaking cartilage is unfortunate, sir,” Ford said coldly, stepping forward, “It’s abundantly clear that she was only defending herself. Not only did the boy have no right to touch her, in any sense, in any manner, she was even gracious enough to give a verbal warning before she acted as she had to to get the boy to stop.”

Mr. Williams crossed his arms over his chest and snarled, “Well maybe if she hadn’t dressed in such a distracting way Mr…”

“Oh HELL NO!” Stan marched forward and slammed his fists down on the desk so hard he actually left cracks in the wood from the impact. “YOU’RE NOT PLAYING THAT GAME, ASSHOLE! NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH!”

Ford made no attempt to silence his twin. In fact, he was smiling cunningly, like a policeman letting his dog go after the target. He gently walked Mabel to the door and ushered her outside. “Why don’t you wait outside, my dear? Dipper is waiting for you with a snack and some water to calm your nerves, you look a little shaken.” He said quietly.

Mabel dipped her head and smiled, unable to find the words, but Ford understood and closed the door after her.

Dipper was, in fact, there with a package of peanuts and bottled water in his hands for her. They sat in the cool office, listening to the conversation. While exact words were muffled by the walls and door, it sounded like Stan and Ford both were yelling and cursing at the principal. While Dipper and Mabel probably should have been more nervous, they weren’t; they were calm and they both knew that everything would be okay.

About half an hour later, just when the old men’s throats were getting a little sore, they left, leaving Mr. Williams to try to kill a small fire on his desk. Stan swiftly pocketed his lighter and smiled warmly at his kids. “Let’s ditch this hellhole.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was sipping some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows while Dipper was in the shower and her uncles elsewhere on the boat. She rubbed her shoulder with her free hand, elbows on the table, as she thought about the day. While she was grateful to not be in trouble and that the whole situation was over, it didn’t feel over. At least, the feelings it gave her hadn’t gone away.

The door opened and she smiled to see her favorite uncles coming inside. “Hey there, pumpkin.” Stan greeted warmly, but grew a little concerned. “You okay?”

Mabel blinked and tried to make a more convincing smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“That principal rattled you pretty good.” Stan pulled out a chair and sat next to her, rubbing her back. “C’mon, what’s on your mind?”

Mabel looked down at her hot drink, sighed, unsure of how to properly express her emotions, but managed to settle with, “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ford said firmly and stood on her other side. She looked up at him and the old scientist said, “What happened to you was completely unfair and should never be tolerated.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. “It’s just that… not only should Jeremy not have touched me, but you’d think people would have my back for defending myself, but… they made it seem like it was my fault…”

“Mabel Pines,” Stan moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. “That was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You dress how you want and punch any guy that touches you if you don’t wanna be touched, and don’t let anyone tell you you should act differently.”

Mabel smiled weakly and nodded. “Okay.”

Stan chuckled and ruffled her hair. “That’s my girl.”

“Now hold one minute, Stanley.” Ford teased and wrapped Mabel up in a one-armed hug, making her giggle and hug him around his waist. “You were always terrible at sharing. She’s my girl, too.”

Stan smeared playfully and tickled Mabel’s ribs to loosen her grasp on Ford, pulling her into a big bear hug as she laughed. “Nu, uh. My girl.”

Mabel rolled her eyes as the twins only kept up the charade for another minute, filled to the brim with appreciation and power.

[dms-saggicorn]

Yeah the day 3 updated version has been improve. Good art and good writing but YB is even a huge dickhead than before. He called the player stupid for trusting him :(

Yeah I heard about that from the og day 3 realease...It didn't hurt at 1st but after a while? Damn, I admit it did make me real sad knowing YB said that basically..."your not too bright" I believe was his words?? Either way, ouch. Sorry that I took a chance with you dude :/ YB's kind, awkward, gentle, caring, even slightly predictable nature really attracted me to the character and game in the 1st place. He was different from a lot of yanderes, not too mean or too brutal still clearly unhinged but there was still a lot of charm love and genuine sweetness there I felt. The the promise of consent and him never hurting you hooked me as well 💜. Almost felt safe and comfortable with the idea of actually being with YB hypothetically in this "what if" scenario and get him some help (which no nonono NOT IRL NOT ok just purely fiction. Would never condone doing this or being this)

But nah, the gap between Blog YB and Game continues to widen and that bums me out. It's all fiction yeah but words hold power especially from someone you thought "cared" about you, at least that is how the character was suppose to be written as being; RIP to the sensitive souls I suppose and those that expected something else??

Funny thing is, I still wanna play the game and I might consider it IF it gets released in steam...Making him a dick head doesn't help tho, not my call either way. 🤷 Really idk, I could damn well change my mind because of all the drama too...man who knows what'll happen in the future but at least for now I still like the character(s) from how they were before...or maybe not? Maybe he was always meant to be this way, which is fine but I can't help but feel betrayed lol

Yet another ramble at least this doodle is nice :)

More good vibe post in a little while Anonies promise 🙏