#local headshots

[nyphotony]

Exec

[darth-maya]

Hello! I would like to suggest my 2023 song of the year, Headshots by Isaiah Rashad. I am borderline obsessed and it is rather unfortunate for the diversity of my listening history.

that's a great pick for a song of the year because I absolutely love that song too

[danbusler]

The Precious Moments Pass

Photographic prints on the wall wait patiently for us until we need them

The moments of their lives and ours pass so quickly. What was once such a vivid image in our minds begins to fade with each passing day.But that photographic print hanging there on the wall waits patiently for us, until that time when we so desperately want to be there again, in that cherished moment, with that person.And in an instant, we are transported.Time travel is possible.

[scramboi]

[searching and looking at art commission prices because i wanna try opening comms soon]

[sees a professional, clean looking one]

"10$ per headshot?? on art this good?? huh?!?"

[scrolls to the bottom]

[sees "600K IDR" (40 USD) for a character sheet]

"hah org indo???

...well ig that makes sense"

[cluboftigerghost]

track for: TRS 18 @ https://stbbforever.com original: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1NMZ0MpaEuY

[snixkers]

Superman

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN! Reader

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT

Hurt/Comfort

For: Anonymous Request

Content Warnings: Hostage situation, reader held at gunpoint, unsub is shot and killed, canon level violence, heavy kissing, petting, suggestive

Summary: After you're in a hostage situation, Spencer lets you know you can't put yourself in danger like that again.

Author's note: Super happy with the way this turned out! Enjoy!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

It was supposed to be a normal case just like any other, a serial killer loose on the streets of Chicago. The team had assembled a quick profile, but they didn't factor in one thing: a partner.

That's how you ended up in this situation, with the barrel of a gun resting on your temple and the unsub gripping your shoulders as your team tried to negotiate with the man.

He was getting more and more agitated, and his finger was slowly tightening on the trigger. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the end, when you heard a gunshot. The unsub fell over behind you, dead.

You turned around to see where the shot came from, your jaw dropping as Spencer lowered his smoking gun and put it back in it's holster.

It's not that you weren't grateful, but you certainly weren't expecting Spencer to take a headshot in a hostage situation. That wasn't the way he did things. He'd provide plenty reasons it was unsafe, complete with alternatives.

Compared to the couple minutes you were being held at gunpoint, the next few hours went by shockingly fast. There was a lot of paperwork and interviews with the local police, but when it was over, you were grateful to get back to the hotel.

You were packing your bags and gathering your things when you heard a few sharp knocks at the door. The peephole revealed it was Spencer, so you opened it for him. He stepped in and closed it behind him, watching you for a few minutes before speaking up.

"You could've died earlier."

You bit your lip, unsure of what he was upset about.

"And you saved me. Thanks, by the way. You're my Superman."

He looked a bit frustrated now, running a hand through his hair. Clearly, your joke only served to agitate him.

"It's not funny. I shouldn't have had to do that. You need to stop putting yourself it danger."

You snorted now. He was a such a hypocrite.

"This job is dangerous."

His eyes softened, and he reached down to take your hand in his. "Please. I'm worried because I might not be able to save you someday."

You nodded, leaning closer and giving him a half-hearted hug.

"I am. I will be. Okay?"

He nodded, his eyes fixed on you for a while before he leaned forward and gave you a kiss.

You quickly returned it, your hand intertwining with his and pulling him closer. He wasted no time grabbing you by the waist and pressing up against you, deepening the kiss as goosebumps grew on the skin he touched.

As shy as he was, his hands sure weren't. He palmed at your chest before trailing his fingers down your body to rest on the curve of your ass. You matched his pace, tugging at his tie, when-

Knock knock

Garcia's cheerful voice broke the silence. "Hotch says to get out or we're leaving without you! That means you too, Reid! I know you're in there!"

The two of you quickly sprang apart, fixing your hair and clothes before looking away from each other. You grabbed your bags, and he went back to his room to grab his, meeting you in the lobby of the hotel.

And throughout the entire ride home on the jet, he kept his eyes on you.

[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[medlilove]

(Edited to add headshots because tumblr hates detail) I've etched away at this is a lovely few weeks, so click for full res and all the little details, okay? It's my love letter to the journey I've found myself on

This is long-ish, so its under the cut (but worth reading...)

I had been thinking a lot recently about that double feature episode, you know the one? I half remembered it then, when they chased a bunch of alien spies so fast through the solar system they all got thrown back in time. Half the crew went on a little undercover adventure in Toronto in 2024. It was great because they got completely cut off from the Enterprise, so half of them, well mostly Uhura and Spock if I recall correctly, spent their time collecting as many radios as possible and worked on building their own communications. Uhura and Spock were basically taking turns constantly tweaking radios by the window with wires everywhere. Oh yeah, their base of operations was the whole top floor of a worn out old building looking over a big square. They ended up in the really arty/queer part of town full of art galleries and thrift stores.....??

Chapel and Chekov were sent out to those shops to find disguises for everyone. I loved the joke that Chekov was puzzled and slightly alarmed that Christine just knew everyone's clothes sizes and measurements with no explanation. Later on, they ended up getting separated from the rest of the group and getting held up by B story shenanigans, mostly getting lost and running into culture shocks. It was fun to see them having their own adventures and made for a pretty interesting combo. Spock and Uhura spent most of their time with the tech, accidentally listening to the times most popular music while changing frequencies. Jim and Sulu paired off to search for clues, and getting supplies and spent a lot of time talking to the locals setting up for a Pride parade. McCoy, feeling paranoid and irritable that he had practically no equipment, wandered around with Dr Alfred Nahdi, the Botanist, who kept picking random weeds and talking about how extraordinary the little dandelions were. Oh and together they stole a whole medical bag out of an ambulance?? It was pretty funny.  Anyway, the main issue was they couldn’t risk leaving the area because all these alien spies had assimilated into the population and they had to track them all down and bring them back with them so as not to disrupt the timeline or something. They had to track down the aliens while making sure the aliens didn't pick up on who they were or that they were also out of place. They ended up being there for around two whole ass months, I think. The spies were spread out all over and there were about 30 of them, but it ended up being the Botanist, Alfred (Alfie) Nahdi who found the enemy base of operations by complete accident. Alfred, who had spent most of the time studying all the common flowers and weeds that were so ordinary at that time but were extinct in their time, figured out where the aliens' base of operations was because the big plant shop at the end of the square had a few succulents that could not have existed in 2024. It was a big "woah" moment. And there was this whole thing where he had to act like he hadn’t just figured it out because the florist, who was almost certainly a spy, was watching him and McCoy. But soon after, it all went to hell anyway when a fight broke out and Sulu was straight up shot with the aliens' weapon that had bullets made from alien metal. So then Bones had to perform old school surgery on him in their HQ, with only 2024 equipment. Jim, Spock, and Uhura were out fighting and ran into Chapel and Chekov and were able to finish them off, but it got really crazy because there was a Pride parade in the square at the same time so they had to make sure no one noticed them. While Bones was pulling bullets out of Sulu, with the botanist assisting him until Chapel (who had been sent by Jim) appeared and took over. McCoy said something like, “Christine, I’ve never been so glad to see you in my life,” and they sewed him up all old school. And it worked out! But Bones was a mess because he had to do messy surgery with none of his kit, and so much pressure, and more blood than he was used to... Chapel stayed with Sulu, and Bones and Nahdi went to sit on the fire escape stairwell and had a sweet scene of Bones just full of adrenaline, his hands couldn't stop shaking. They sat hand in hand for a while listening to all the people on the streets below. Then Spock, Jim, Uhura, and Chekov appeared at the stairwell and they all had a happy, albeit exhausted reunion. After a day of everyone recovering from all the excitement, Uhura and Spock used some extra tech they got from the aliens and finally made contact with poor Scotty who was up on the Enterprise losing the will to live. Anyway, their outfits were iconic tbh.

I invented this whole thing to draw Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy in a sweater. I lost control of the situation. I spent a lovely two weeks etching away at this with the support of my lovely ST server, I love you guys. This ones for you.

[newcronomicon]

drags myself in here to ebeg ( DONT TAG AS DONO TAGS )

local disabled trans dude can't work and cannot set up a bank due to not having enough paperwork for it, nor can I do p.ypal because I don't have a working phone number. I've been struggling in an abusive home for years now and I am given just above the bare minimum. I finally realised last night that I cannot keep living in survival mode constantly. I need help affording shit

so. I set up an amazon wishlist, buying anything UNDER £15 gets you a headshot from me, anything above is a bust shot ( from head to waist ) and anything over £25 get you a halfbody ( head to just above the knee ). please do not get weird at me because I have "non essential" items on there. please. just because im poor doesnt mean im not allowed shit that makes me happy in the situation i am stuck in.

high priority items are ; all the hair stuff, bed stuff, minoxidil

dm me proof of purchase and what character you want drawn, keep in mind I Only do humanoids and my strengths lie in masculine and older characters but obv I can do everything else ( won't draw kids though, nor certain fandoms feel free to ask what ofc ). art examples will be under the cut

please share if you can, thank you 🐕❤️

all art done will have a grey background like the 1st image

[nyphotony]

ExecHeadshots

[nerdykeppie]

We decided that this picture that Emet took earlier of Rumba looks like the headshot which accompanies a local political write-in campaign.

So: what's Rumba running for?

[danbusler]

The Walpole Footlighters presents "She Loves Me"

This fun musical is at The Walpole Footlighters

The Walpole Footlighters in East Walpole, MApresents the delightful musical “She Loves Me”Music by Jerry BrockLyrics by Sheldon HarnickBook by Joe MastroffDirected and Choreographed by Doug HodgeMusical Direction by Marilyn WhippleHere’s a sneak peek at some images from the show which runsOctober 27, 28 and November 3, 4, and 11 at 7:30October 29 and November 12 at 2:00 2023.

[cobaltperun]

Heyyy! I'm hoping I still got the time to request something!

Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader

Lorraine lives after the "accident" (did not get that headshot...) just has a scar on her face, don't know which side. R also survives and her and Lorraine gets closer, then they became an item.

R always caresses or gives kisses to Lorraine's scar/scars on her face, so she knows she's still that beautiful young lady as before.

I just want a fluffy, romantic one shot with my baby😭😭

Feel free to ignore this! Have a nice day/night!

Sunset

Lorraine Day x female Reader (Request)

Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k

You never should have agreed to this, you should have been happy working at a local store, away from all of these crazy ideas of movies that would make your life easy. Instead of that now you were trying to stop the bleeding from your left arm from the crazy old man trying to chop it off with an axe. And you needed the damn keys so you could get the hell out of here.

So, though it hurt as hell, you managed to get back into the house through the window and felt relief when you saw Lorraine and Maxine, relatively fine inside as well.

"Y/N! We need to find the keys!" Maxine told you as soon as she realized it was you and not one of the crazy duo.

"No shit," you looked through the drawers, desperately trying to find what you needed. "Lorraine, could you check these drawers to the side?" you asked, only now realizing the girl was on the verge of a panic attack.

"No! This is all your fault! I never should have listened to you!" she screamed at Maxine and you couldn't help but agree somewhat, though you figured most of the blame still fell on the crazy old people. But then Lorraine went toward the door and you just went after her.

"Wait, Lorraine!" you managed to grab her just as she came to the stairs and pulled her back. The resounding bang of the shotgun being fired deafened you for a moment and you expected pain, but you just felt the girl whose arm you were holding slumping back against you. "Shit!" you cursed, pulling her inside despite the amount of blood you saw on her face as the bullets just narrowly missed you.

~X~

That was three weeks ago and the entire ordeal after that felt like a blur, you somewhat remembered getting back into the house and trying to hide with Lorraine, and then being called just once by Maxine that she would leave if you don't get your ass out in fifteen seconds, and then dropping you off at the hospital, probably because you threatened her, and then you never heard from her again.

You came out of the ordeal fine, just the nasty scar on your left biceps and overall less strength in your left arm. Lorraine though… She lost a finger on her right hand and the right side of her face was scarred. It could have been worse, she could have gotten her face shot off, but instead you managed to pull her back just in time to prevent her death.

The damage was already done though, she was mostly blind in her right eye, and the scars were fairly prominent no matter how she tried to cover them with her hair.

The two of you ended up living in your house, left to you by your grandparents, but Lorraine hardly left the room, choosing instead to stay in the room you gave her. She barely spoke to you unless you spoke up first, she barely did anything and you could tell she wasn't doing well.

Not that you could blame her, given how she came the closest to death out of the three of you. You knocked on her doors and waited until she eventually told you to come in, you were carrying a tray with her dinner on it. Just some soup and mashed potatoes, since she was still struggling to chew, though doctors were sure her jaw would recover completely soon enough.

"Hey," you set the food down on the table next to her bed and sat down at the foot of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Lorraine looked to the side, hiding the right side of her face from your eyes. "Like I should have died," she spoke honestly for the first time. "I thought I could be an actress, and look at me now, an ugly freak," you saw a tear sliding down her cheek as her voice shook.

You stood up, stepped closer to her and knelt down. Carefully you reached up, touching her right cheek. "Don't say that, please," you whispered, your heart breaking for the girl when she pulled away from you.

"You shouldn't have pulled me back," she sobbed and the two of you just sat there, in an old room, with wooden boards for floors and an almost antique furniture, and barely any sunlight coming through the window.

"Lorraine," you whispered, lowering your hand on her shoulder.

"You're still beautiful, you're still you," you felt like your words weren't reaching her, but she leaned in, perhaps just desperate for comfort and allowed you to hug and hold her.

“No, I should have never let you go alone, I should have gone with you,” you told her, and she just shook her head.

The two of you met that day, nothing, absolutely nothing that happened should have made you feel obligated to come with her.

“I know it’s difficult for you, I know you’re stuck in that place, replaying what happened all day long and then falling asleep to those same thoughts. I know that every time you look in the mirror you want to cry, but I’m here for you. And I won’t stop until you can once again see that you are still beautiful,” you promised her. It’s only been three weeks since you met, yet you figured surviving something like that brought you and Lorraine closer together.

“That’s not possible,” she sobbed, and you heard a small gasp when you cradled her scarred cheek.

“Maybe, but I won’t give up without even trying,” you weren’t sure where the boldness came from, but you leaned in and kissed her forehead, the right side of it.

“Y/N,” she spoke your name so softly you barely heard her, and she looked you in the eyes and saw nothing but affection and honesty. You didn’t find her scars ugly, or hideous, or anything that must have been going through her mind. You still saw the beautiful shy girl that stepped into the van that day, only now with the proof that she was a survivor on her face,

~X~

About half a year later you were resting on the porch and watching the sunset with Lorraine leaning on your left shoulder. You put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"Y/N," she giggled and it was like a melody to your ears to hear her happy once more. Following the first time she opened up to you things became easier for both of you and now you could enjoy each other's company just like this, even if Lorraine remained self-conscious about her scars.

"Hmm?" you kissed her forehead, where the top of her highest scar was, then moved down and kissed just beneath her eyebrow, down next to her eye, on her cheekbone, several times on her cheeks and along her jaw.

"You'll miss the sunset," she sighed, but she ran her fingers through your hair and lifted her head up a bit to give you better access to her face.

You caressed her left cheek, pulling her a bit closer. "Mhm, there's someone much more beautiful right next to me," you whispered, and only then, only after she parted her lips, you softly pressed your lips against her own, enjoying how she immediately pulled you in closer and kissed you back.

"You flatter me," she smiled, and you felt like her smile was even brighter than the Sun at its brightest. She went through so much and still had it in her to smile like this.

"It's not my fault my girlfriend is worth every praise in the world," you told her as the sunlight faded away.

"Yeah, and we missed the sunset again," she complained, huffing jokingly and leaning against you once more. The truth was you've been missing the sunsets for the past month, ever since Lorraine first kissed you in this exact circumstances, while you were watching the sunset and you gently caressed her right cheek. It made Lorraine feel better, and you genuinely thought she was still beautiful, that she was still the same girl you met that day in the van.

"I can't help it, you're so kissable," you defended yourself.

"Is that even a word?" she chuckled.

"It is now," you said and she pulled you in for another kiss, this time a bit more heated as her tongue teased your lips.

"Yeah, I think that word works," she muttered as she just barely pulled away.

She was so damn beautiful, and she loved you back, and while you wished she never got hurt, while you wished so many people didn't get killed by lunatics, you were happy the two of you were together.

A/N: Well, anon, here you go, hopefully a short but mostly sweet and fluffy one-shot. Thank you for the request!

[nadvs]

we need a second part of imperfect strangers where he actually comes and visits her for the weekends🤭 (random but i can so see them at chipotle being all cutesy)

aw tysm 💘 wrote a blurb and rly leaned into the goofy fluff but it’s NEEDED with zach imo!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

continuation of this fic

Zach acts like a four-hour drive to your college is nothing.

You know he’s tired every time he pulls up in front of your dorm. You can see it in the bags under his eyes and the yawns he tries to hide from you.

But matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t have to come visit you every weekend, he won’t hear it. He’s determined to show you how badly he wants to see you, refusing to take the risk of hurting you again.

When you mention to Zach that you’re craving Chipotle the night before his visit, he finds the closest one to your campus while still on the phone with you.

The second you get into his car the next day, he kisses you before you can even get a chance to put on your seatbelt.

“Missed you, too,” you laugh when he pulls back.

After he buys lunch, you sit in a booth by a window in the restaurant, feet bumping beneath the table. He always wants to find a way to touch you, no matter how minor.

“This is a masterpiece,” he says, holding out his bowl, ridiculously competitive as usual. “I don’t know what that is.”

You gasp as he points at your meal.

“What makes yours so perfect?” you ask. He loves how you always play along with him, that you’re as much of a goofball as he is.

“Look,” Zach says, his delivery deadpan but his motive silly like usual, “I got the protein - the steak, of course…”

“Of course,” you echo amusedly.

“And brown rice, great for lowering cholesterol,” he says.

“You take one nutrition course and suddenly you’re a genius,” you sigh, recalling how he told you about one of his elective classes on the phone a few nights ago.

“Babe, I’m being serious here,” Zach says, the smile curling on his lips telling you he’s not being serious at all.

“Continue.” You take a bite of your lunch.

“Corn, a vegetable,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “salsa, extra cheese-”

“I think you’re cheesy enough,” you interrupt, putting a palm up. Zach laughs and nudges your knee with his.

“You love it,” he says. You smile, confirming it.

“Is this who you are now that you’re a local celebrity?” you tease. “All ego?”

A few days ago, a photo of him playing soccer in a home game was posted on his college’s Instagram account, celebrating the team’s most recent win.

As you expected, the top comment was by a girl who wrote what’s his @ i’m asking for a friend (i’m the friend).

“Afraid so,” he responds.

“I noticed you changed your profile picture on Instagram,” you say. It used to be his athletic headshot, but now his profile boasts an image of the two of you smiling outside of a café.

“Yeah,” he says plainly.

“Why?”

“What do you mean? Am I not cute in it?” he jokes.

“Zach,” you laugh. “Was it because girls were messaging you?”

His cheeks flush pink. He pulls out his phone and sets it in front of you.

“Yeah. I changed it so they know I have a girlfriend,” he says, gaze fluttering away. You know him so well. “And I didn’t message any of them back. You can check.”

“You’re so sweet,” you giggle. “I trust you, but I kind of want to look just out of curiosity to see what they’re saying.”

Sure enough, he has a few messages from pretty girls sitting in his inbox, some simple hi’s, others much more flirty.

“Can’t blame them,” you reply, sliding his phone back to his side of the table. “You’re hot.”

“Are you only in this for my looks?”

“I thought you knew that,” you say. “This is awkward now.”

Zach grins, bumping your knee again before sliding out of his side of the booth and settling beside you. You can smell his cologne, clean and gentle.

“Yeah, we’re the kind of couple that sits on the same side of the table, so what?” he mumbles, planting a kiss on your temple. You smirk, kneeling against his shoulder before sitting straight again.

“I’m sorry if that made you jealous, babe,” Zach says after a beat. At times, it’s hard to believe how sensitive he is. “I can ask them to take the photo down.”

“Oh,” you say with a laugh. He has a bit of a jealous streak stemming from insecurities, but you never felt it yourself, knowing how loyal he is. “I have a cute boyfriend. I can accept that it comes with a little competition sometimes.”

“There’s no competition,” he says resolutely, blue eyes hard on you. You squeeze his bicep and smile at him and he dips to kiss your fingers, right above the promise ring he gave you.

“You know that goes both ways, right?” you tell him softly. “You’ve ruined all other men for me, MacLaren.”

Your words send butterflies swirling in his stomach.

“Good thing we’ll be together forever then,” Zach says, a glint in his eyes.

“Good thing,” you agree.

(continuation blurb)

[crownedinmarigolds]

Isaac Winthrop - your local Anarch Tremere librarian who is definitely not the shadiest guy you know. Rendered blind by experimentation, who knows what mischief he'll be getting up to... Thank you so much to @mountainashfae for commissioning me!! Another headshot from my flash sale! I'm excited to hear about what he'll be doing in games to come...

[flickering-nightfall]

Over a year ago, I drew my first Rain World fanart! This is Zero Fables: The Superstructure in all its uhh... mouse-scribbled glory. Some of this is outdated of course, like the multiple chambers probably aren't a thing anymore, etc...

Shortly after drawing their structure, I'd give them a puppet design -

(on the left is one of their local group, Reflections of Drifting Light, or Drift for short.)

A headshot of the second picture used to be my icon! I almost named my blog zerofables as well, but I didn't want to use them as a mascot or anything like that, so I ended up going with Flicker instead.

Zero Fables is a part of an experimental local group stationed across an archipelago. They're an old, cryptic iterator who speaks in loops and tangents. In contrast to common teachings, Fables believes that the cycle is to be celebrated, and the true answer to the Great Problem - the ultimate escape from suffering - is to love existence itself.

Fables was dressed as an echo due to their relation with void fluid experimentation. It was a bleak warning for their possible end. But they didn't care, and they were pretty blasé about their opinions. Many of Fables' citizens hated that Fables did not fear becoming an echo like they did.

There's also the Mystic, a descendant of slugcats Fables purposed many years before. It and Fables have a special bond. Mystic has been my banner image this entire year actually...

Can't believe it's been this long already~