#maybe ill sketch the others as well

[notadreamurr]

Sketchs of my rainbow dash and applejack redesigns that I haven't drawn in a hot minute :D

[k1tty5]

your mazaleian (i cant spell) smalletho gives me life, actually, do you have anything esle to share about them

thank you for asking! I did not. So here you go, some sketches fresh off the… canvas. Or something.

[medi-bee]

isat pokemon au, my liege?

my rambling in tags

[fatedroses]

I personally subscribe to the idea that Adventurer Zenos shows his affection and appreciation for his peers in very odd ways (like yoinking the Students' taxes and dealing with their expenses and maybe also paying for some of their expenses but shhh).

[molathesunfish]

One of the 20000 wips i probably wont finish

[gemini-queen42]

Boutta get on a 16 hr flight and afterwords I will HOPEFULLY (if all goes according to plan) have many lil art things to feed y'all. For now though, have this old-ish sketch ik im not finishing super soon.

[chip-and-the-bastards]

ok this might be a crazy idea, but I really wanna try and make a jrwi riptide comic based on the Improbably Compatibility comic (this one, I'll also put this panels under a read more), but with as many riptide aus as i can fit in!

if i do this i'd more be organising/hosting it, so people can submit their aus and draw the art for it! if we stick to the comic exactly then we can fit 759 aus in there (though only 30ish are really visible), so it'll probably be smaller/i'll just fill in whatever spares with random stuff

anyway here's the comic

[hofudlaus]

whatever happened to the triforce swap thing

It's still rotating in my brain a bunch I just haven't had time to get it out of my head recently :(

[recallback-art]

First post of the new year! Thought I should post my first proper drawing of the new year - and so, why not the matching ones?

I usually make one of these doodles for the weeks my friends play DND as a reminder we play that week (though sometimes we have to cancel y'know how it is), and I put special effort into this weeks since it's the new year! My guy is half dragon, tis his year!

[turbo-tsundere]

Content warning for gore, blood, burns & body horror.

A king with no crown and a holy fool.

(The element of venom/poison, stabbing/puncture wounds and destruction of a whole body is present in both of their deaths. Kokichi's pristine white clothes also end up being shoved down the toilet, and the poison made it difficult for him to breathe, so there's plausible callback to Miu also. Karma at its finest?)

If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.

(Don't mind them, they're just spilling their guts)

(...)

(Concepts for scenes from a Gonta-centric survival horror game I'll never make. But it was fun to daydream about - maybe one day I'll finish other sketches and doodles relating to it into a more presentable state. The Cat Lady OST was playing on constant repeat while I drew this - Lily of the Valley, Don't Follow the Light, String, Plainwalker, Early Winter, Storytelling, Susan's Blue Sheep (alone again) - those in particular are now stuck in my brain when I look at those drawings, and what I imagine the "game's" mood to be like, at least the opening segment.)

(I felt both heartbroken and like a monster when drawing this one... But I wanted to draw something that doesn't conveniently erase nor tuck his mangled, swollen face away from view. Sure... in game it looks goofy. But I think mockingly disfiguring him was the point in all of this, too. And given the venom, the Schmidt pain index, how it rates some wasp species, the fact that those robot wasps could be packed with anything necessary really... it had to be awful. Really, every stage of Gonta's execution was excruciating and enough to kill a person on its own, but due to his strength he likely suffered through them all. I remember begging in my head he was at least spared the flame, that he was already gone by this point... But it's foolish to pretend it definitely was the case.)

I wanted to post something new, but I was either busy, ill, or focused on something else, so another sketchdump with oldies and wips it is. This time strictly 2020-21 stuff, drawn during the first few months after finishing the game; mostly to process the post-game/Ch4 sorrows. All very emotionally raw, very edgy stuff that I felt, to be honest, too shy to show before.

Like with any wip I posted before, I do hope to finish some of them properly one day, even though I don't know when. But that's fine, I've signed up for a very long ride with the bug man. Taking it easy is the priority.

Speaking of long-term projects, maybe there's no need to, but I do want to talk about my Gonta fancomic, so here goes.

It's a bit long, so I will continue under the cut.

(Some panel teasers first! ...Gonta sanity fine.)

I took a few months long break from personal drawings - an *actual* break, not just sitting in front of a screen, tired, stewing in guilt that I'm tired, and that I can't magically muscle through burnout, or headache, or exhaustion.

My brain was stuck in a loop of berating myself for underperforming, not doing well enough, for taking so long on "mere" 27 pages, when in the past I could finish a 90-page webcomic chapter much faster. I wouldn't let myself rest, because I didn't do enough; but I couldn't do enough, because I didn't allow myself to rest. And it's been going on for months and months.

What a stupid, unconstructive thing to do to myself. I was only spiralling down, intimidating and overwhelming myself with work on the one thing I specifically wanted to keep doing out of joy, not ambition and pedantism. So I decided to just say "fuck it" and stop for a while. Like, actually stop, do something else and try to feel unapologetic about it.

So I briefly took up sewing, a creative activity I had no personal stake in, and then I started PVP-ing in DS3 (sorry if I happened to kick your butt in there. Rest assured my butt gets kicked just as much), which did wonders, too, as non-artistic pastime.

And, in the end, it seems it worked.

I finally feel this internal drive to draw again. Sadly, I can't spend all of my free time on the doujin (I might need to open commissions soon), so my pacing will still be glacial... But there was an internal change from "I have to, I have to, I must..." back to "I want to". And this is all that matters.

Still, that makes me think... while technically I don't have deadlines, the comic has taken so much longer than I thought it would - and it will take a while still. Thus, I wonder if I shouldn't change my approach re publishing it.

The initial idea was to post it all at once when it's fully finished, but I debate releasing it one page at a time instead, while it's still work in progress.

Thing is, I don't think it would be good for overall pacing. I don't want to sacrifice it, plus I can't guarantee regular uploads, esp since I don't exactly work on the pages in chronological order (While the first page is done, it was drawn after I finished a few in the middle & at the end; and there are still a few important pages/panels in first half I'm a bit too afraid of touching just yet, wanting to do them justice. This is how I work in general, jumping around rather than sticking to overly strict linear order.)

The compromise would be to post like 3-5 pages per post, making it so each upload covers a specific scene, however, same issue arises - I can't promise regular uploads. In the end it feels like a half-measure. But maybe it's a good idea, despite that impression?

There's a secret option, too - if this takes absurdly long, my plan was to just post the storyboard, after replacing some panels/pages with already finished drawings. The thing is readable as is, and long finished on that front anyway. My personal deadline for that was "right before my current lease ends", but, well… I plan on extending it anyway, and again... it's just a back-up option for when everything else fails. In the end, I just want to finish the comic, and present it how it's meant to be presented, however long it will take.

All those things considered, I'll stick to the original plan for now... and then we shall see. I simply wanted to share where things stand currently, and where they might go.

And that's it! If you've read this far, thank you. See you in the undetermined future.

[kroosluvr]

royal trio tennis au sketches and notes and stuff YAYYY YAY

EDIT ALSO I HOPE EVEYRONE LIKES THE SIGNATURES I CAME UP FOR THEM IN 2 SECONDS ON THE LAST SLIDE

(for clarification there r actually 2 persona tennis aus housed in my head

1) this one where royal trio are pro players striving to become intl stars

2) like a persona q3 thing where everyone plays team tennis @ their respective clubs/schools and its fun and awesome)

more notes under the cut

these r gonna be stream of consciousness bear w me ill keep it short bc imlazy

goro is born into the sport bc shido is like an intl tennis superstar but as with canon he dgaf about goro at all. his mom is dead too. etc. he probably never sees his dad except on tv and hes probably tossed around various boarding schools/tennis camps/etc so goro strives to become even BETTER of a player than his dad so 1) shido looks at him and acknowledges him and respects him 2) he can SURPASS him. thats his entire goal. anyway he prob shoulders huge expectations like oh thats ur dad so u must be a good player right and then those expectations he inflcits on himself.

sumire picks up tennis maybe around age 9-10 or so, when before that she did rhythmic gymnastics with kasumi. but even from an early age she was discontented by how Good kasumi was, almost intrinsically, and she had a gut feeling that made her switch tracks to tennis - also a sort of independent sport where SHE HERSELF can succeed on the court, without needing to depend on others. yet she still feels pressured by kasumi's success which gets in her way a lot. she feels determined to carve a name for herself bc THIS is the path she chose, so she better fucking make it count. those expectations on herself weigh heavily as well. in addition i think her parents literally dont gaf like if she becomes an intl superstar (not maliciously they just genuinely want sumire to be happy and dont demand success of her) but she kinda is like "wow they dont expect anything of me because im bad at it? then ill just have to become AMAZING so theyll have to be astounded" kinda thing

meanwhile akira was always a sporty/athletic kid, he doesnt have much attn from his parents so hes just doing whatever. soccer baseball basketball the works. but he picks up tennis at maybe age 13 and hes GOOD. so he immediately gets like scouted and Trained and he like improves in record time. hes real chill and relaxed about it though because he never Needed tennis the way sumire and goro do. hes just out here for fun and games literally. if he wins he wins - but the thing is, akira kurusu hates losing. thats the thing that propels him to the top.

shujin academy is still the same private school we know but they also house a tennis academy known as the shujin tennis academy yeah yeahyaeeayhah and they just train the coolest of players and the royal trio r their pride and joy etc

cont'd here

[sundrop-writes]

Hi! I love your works! I saw your request are open, so I was wondering if I could ask how would Spencer react to the reader fainting into his arms?

I love this request so much. As a POTSie, this is really close to my heart - and idk if this was your intention or not, but I decided to make it that the reader has POTS.

Requests are OPEN

How would Spencer Reid react to you fainting around him?

Warnings: Reader's gender is not described - reader is gender neutral; the reader's looks are not really described either; the reader faints due to a pre-existing medical condition; the reader is mentioned to have POTS; this is Spencer during his Professor era; the reader is also a Professor at the University that Spencer teaches at; this fic uses Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); the reader loses consciousness completely and Spencer attends to them to make sure they are okay; some light fluff/romance; I think that's it? Not really proofread. This could be described as hurt/comfort (I found it very comforting to write) - even if you aren't chronically ill, I encourage you to read and enjoy!!!

...

Spencer didn’t really know you.

Since he had started teaching at the university, he had seen you around many times, and a face like yours - someone as gorgeous as you definitely stuck out in his mind. But he had never formally introduced himself. He could have used the excuse that he was busy preparing his lectures, and racing back and forth to the BAU between those lectures. But even if he hadn't spoken to you, he had been admiring you from afar for a long time. 

That was why, when he found a notebook that belonged to you sitting on one of the benches on the quad, he didn’t hesitate to bring it to your office. It needed to be returned to its rightful owner, and that owner was someone he had been secretly admiring for some time now. It was the perfect excuse to introduce himself to you. He thought that sitting on the notebook when he went outside to take his morning coffee break could be considered fate. Especially when he flipped open the cover, looking for some sign of who it belonged to, and he saw your name written on it. 

(Did he also flip through the rest of the pages, seeing the poems you had written, along with some beautiful sketches of birds and stills of flowers, and felt his stomach stir even more, realizing that he was falling for you before even talking to you? Maybe. He would have denied it, though.) 

He knocked on your door late, on his way out for the day, hoping that you were still there, and he was surprised to find the hinge creaking open underneath his fist. 

“Hello?” He called out. “Professor L/N?” 

“Oh, come in!” You called back. 

Spencer walked in and found the room to be a mess of papers - many open file boxes scattered about the room, with papers scattered everywhere in an utter hurricane of paper. 

You were focused on the file box in front of you, a frown knit across your brows as you flipped through them one by one, clearly intently looking for something. 

“I��m sorry.” Spencer apologized. “Is this a bad time?” 

“Oh, uh-” You finally looked up from your searching, and when you locked eyes with Spencer, you were surprised to find a doe-eyed, curly-haired, incredibly attractive man standing in the middle of your messy office. “I’m sorry. I- you’re that FBI guy, right? Reid?” 

You ignored his question in favor of being introduced to him properly - you had heard his name from the mouths of other people; gossip from your colleagues about how a real FBI profiler would be teaching a class about the psychology of serial killers and profiling. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. But you can call me Spencer, if you prefer.” 

“Spencer.” You repeated back, grinning at him. “I’m Professor L/N, as you said. But you can call me Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I just came to return this.” Spencer explained, reaching into his bag and pulling out your notebook. 

Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight of it. 

“Oh my gosh.” You gasped quietly. “Thank you so much.” You took it back, giving him a grateful smile. “I don’t even know where my head is today, I-” 

Spencer gave a small grin as he followed your gaze around the mess you had created in your office. 

“I know this looks chaotic, but…” You looked for an excuse. “A student asked me for a copy of an essay they wrote a few years ago as a reference for their thesis. And I thought I had everything well organized. But - apparently my head is just not on very straight.” 

The forgetfulness, and your inability to go through the files in an efficient way - the lack of focus, it was only compounded by your pre-existing condition. Which was only made worse by the fact that you had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was well past dinner time now. 

“Oh, that’s completely understandable.” Spencer chuckled. “I can help you look through some of these if you want?” 

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the notebook and as Spencer became blurry in your vision - you thought about going to sit down in your office chair for a break after it was too late. 

“Y/N?” 

He became worried when you didn’t respond, when the expression on your face became more distant and he noticed your lips paling from a healthy color. 

In the next moment, you were falling. 

Spencer rushed to catch you, his instincts kicking in - everything in his body screaming that he needed to keep you from hitting the floor, that he needed to keep you safe. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and the other arm wrapped around the middle of your back - he was surprised by how heavy your body felt when you were purely dead weight, your body entirely limp as you went completely unconscious, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a scary way. 

He knelt down slowly, taking you down to the floor in the most gentle way possible, not wanting to drop you accidentally and have you hit your head because of his incompetence. The more the seconds ticked on and your eyelids stayed limp, your lips almost purple and your mouth gaped - the more his own heart thumped in his chest with intense fear. 

“Hey, hey, come on.” He continued to cradle your head with one hand, but now that you were mostly resting on the floor, he moved his other arm from your back to gently rub across your cheek - hoping to rouse you back to consciousness. “Come on, stay with me. Y/N. Wake up. Please?” 

He gently tapped your cheek, no where close to slapping you - but hoping to stimulate your nervous system with touch in some way. 

A huge breath of relief sucked through his chest when your eyelids started flickering and your eyes began moving around, clearly searching for something in the room as you regained consciousness. You let out a moan, trying to form words, and Spencer put a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just relax.” He told you, trying to keep his voice calm - trying not to betray any of the anxiety that he was truly feeling. 

His first instinct was to call an ambulance - obviously you needed medical attention. What had happened to you? What if it was something serious? 

And while he was patting down his pockets for his phone, you let out another moan and lifted one of your limp arms, drawing his attention to the jingle of a medical alert bracelet on your arm. 

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved to grab the pendant on the bracelet, reading it carefully. 

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome 

There was an emergency number listed, but it wasn’t 9-1-1 - Spencer had to guess that it was a family member of yours, or a doctor. So he had to guess that calling an ambulance wasn’t the thing to do. The condition sounded familiar to him - he read medical journals on occasion because he found them to be mentally engaging, and - because of occasions like this; if he could use the information to help someone. 

He remembered that it was a condition in which the autonomic nervous system fails to regulate blood flow, resulting in fainting when too much blood pools in the legs. So elevating the legs can help a person with the condition regain consciousness easier. 

Spencer hated to rest your head on the hardness of the floor, but he rushed to take off his blazer, and folded it up to put it underneath your head as a makeshift pillow, and then he looked around frantically - and the only good thing he could find were the file boxes. He stacked a few of them and brought them closer, and then situated your legs so they were elevated up on top of the boxes, above your prone body. 

He took your hand and held it - again, simply out of instinct. Wanting you to know that he was there with you while you lingered on the edge of consciousness. But with his helpful first aid, it wasn’t long then - only a minute or two - before your eyes blinked open more confidently and you tried to sit up. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Spencer implored, pushing you gently to lay back down. “Just rest for a few minutes, okay?” 

Usually - you would have rushed to become upright again, even if it was against medical advice. But something about Spencer’s presence was gentle and soothing, and you found yourself actually listening to him. 

“Sorry,” You muttered out, the word practically turning into a slur on your lips - your face tingling and numb as the blood slowly migrated back to your head. “I - I didn’t mean to s-scare you.” 

“You did scare me a little bit.” Spencer chuckled. “Hopefully next time I see you, you don’t end up on the floor.” 

“Well, my condition gets b-better when I eat s-salty foods.” You remarked, telling him the truth about the medical advice you had been given, feeling bold to let this roll into a flirty opportunity. “Maybe you could t-take me to dinner-r next time?” 

Spencer grinned down at you, and let out a light laugh. 

“Sounds like a date.” 

...

A/N: I have to say that this was so comforting for me to write. The amount of times in my life that I have fainted and been terrified, or I have been berated by the people around me for ‘faking’ it when I was feeling incredibly ill and barely conscious. If I fainted and I woke up to Spencer holding my hand and treating me so well like this - I would feel so relaxed and comforted. This was so amazing for me to write, and did help to heal a small fraction in the huge lifetime of medical trauma that I have.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[tom-is-online]

MY CONTRIBUTIONS FOR THE @silverfanzine!!!

This has been such a fun project to be a part of over the however many past months, everyone else working on it are all lovely and its been a pleasure to talk and the final zine come together

You can see the final Zine HERE!!!! and i highly recommend it and it would mean the world to us!

I planned on making two other pieces but i lacked time, so the sketches are under the cut, maybe ill finish em one day who knows

But again, this project has been so fun to be a part of and I'm so happy with what I've made for it I hope you like them as well!

My contributions as wallpapers/ merch are allowed to be used but please credit me if needed!

[itslilacokay]

you thought i forgot? haaahaha no.

happy avexchange! auugh apologies for being sososo late,,, i didnt think id be this busy for this week and the last hahaaaaa.... uh here's the second (heh. second) third prompts which waaaaaaas quote

"King and Corndog guy or one of the sticks from the minecraft booth having a night out in the city or the snow" and "Have fun with the only AvA ocs I have"

i dont usually draw king, and i never drew cdg's gijinka before, sooo heres those two out in the snow talking about economy along with melo and glitch (also mara too technically but.yknow !!)

would have finished the other one as well but alas, dealt with a lot of outings, and i usually use my pc, so i wasnt able to draw while out i DID manage to sketch the first prompt though, and i like how it turned out so. maybe in the future ill post it as seperately??? if thats okay, i dunno

@celestialaviva get blasted /silly (again im so so sorry for bein late agh)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can’t remember the last time you had the house to yourself. Even if your mother’s just next door, it feels a little lighter around there. And you’re happy for her. Maybe having Steve around will be good. He can be an outlet so she doesn’t have to put all her frustrations on you. 

She was happy when she left, even excited. That’s another rarity in your life. 

You start your day off with a tea. The apple cinnamon bags are a bit old so you use two. You bring the cup into your room and get your table set up with your pencils and sketchbook. You open the window to let in the sunlight, the natural light much brighter than the yellowed bulb above. 

You know your mom would tell you to do something more useful than just scribble in your sketchbook. You got the dishes done last night. Steve offered to help but you deflected as you foresaw your mom’s disapproval. You can’t let company pick up your slack. 

You try to wipe away the anxiety of last night. It’s over now. You shouldn’t have worry very much about it again. 

You finish your tea. It’s cold by the time you get to the dregs. You sit back to look over your sketch. Your eyes feel a bit fuzzy from hyperfocusing on that one stamen. You rub your brow and yawn. The sun shifts and you look over at the old alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s close to noon. 

Something else catches your eye. You look up at the window across from yours. The curtain ripples around the gap before it’s pulled open from inside. Steve stands on the other side of the pane. Can he see you? 

You can’t tell as he turns away without acknowledgement. The glare of the sun should hide your room well enough. You never really thought of it as your blinds are closed more often than not. 

You get up to rinse out your cup. You stretch your legs as you pace in the kitchen. You’re restless. You’re so used to your mom and her demands and expectations, that having your own time feels aimless. 

You could surprise your mother with dinner. Have it in the oven when she comes home. It’s still early but you can make something more than boxed macaroni. It will be a good cushion to fall back on when you remind her about tomorrow’s appointment. 

🏠

When your mother returns, you can see the fatigue around her eyes. For as little as she goes out, you’re not surprised. What strikes you, is how happy she is. You help her to her recliner and she sighs as she leans back. 

“Such a nice man,” she keeps repeating.  

You smile and let her regale you with a recounting of her day. Still, you can’t help but wait for the pendulum to swing back to normal. She leans her head in her hand, her eyes distant. 

“I swear, the universe sent him to me,” she says, “it had to. It was how much I need someone.” She drops her hand and traces her finger around the armrest, “sick, got a lazy daughter, stuck in this damn house...” 

There it is. You frown. You mash your hands together and waver. 

“I made dinner,” you offer. 

“I don’t want KD,” she snips. 

“I made... I made shepherd’s pie,” you offer meekly, “should be almost done.” 

“Hm, wondered what that stench was.” 

You frown. “I can put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Be good to have something we can just heat up after the doctor’s.” 

“Doctor?” She grumbles, “eh... I forgot.” 

She slumps and her eyes dull. You can’t help the pang in your chest. Sometimes you wish it was you who was sick. It feels like you deserve it more than her. 

“Hopefully it’s good. If you can get the surgery--” 

“Surgery!? Surgery. You keep going on about the damn thing,” she barks. “They can’t fix me, girl, get that through your head.” 

“I know, mom, but they can help--” 

“Like you help me? Crittering around here like a rat!” She hits the armrest violently, “would ya leave me be?” She closes her eyes and turns her face away, deflating once more, “ruined a good day...” 

You sniffle and slowly turn on your heel. You should have known better. You should have just left her alone. As much as she rants about you staying in your room, she prefers you there. Out of sight, out of mind. 

🏠

The next day, your mother doesn’t say much. Her silence is just a bitter as her words. You don’t push it. She gets in the car without argument and you set off into town. Even if she says it’s a waste of time, she listens intently to the doctor and answers all his questions. It’s only when she has to go through the tests that she shows her agitation. 

After some hours spent at the specialist clinic, you’re free to go. Your mom is just as quiet. You feel her mood roiling in the air. Her hand is shaking to the point that she’s hissing at it. 

You steer down to the corner and linger at the stop sign. 

“Mom,” you squeak, “you want some orange julius? A treat for the way home?” 

“Don’t talk to me like a damn child,” she snarls. “Let’s just go. I’m tired. Got no blood left in me.” 

You nod and bite your tongue. Maybe you can just put her to bed. Her naps are a respite, though you find yourself anxious in the silence, terrified of waking her prematurely.  

As you pull onto the suburban avenue, you slow and approach your drive. You pull in and shut off the engine. You get out and go around to help your mom. You open her door and she hauls herself out, tisking under her breath. 

“Didn’t see him,” she mutters. 

“Good afternoon,” Steve’s voice answers your question before you can ask. You look over the hood as he waves from his porch, “busy day?” 

Your mother steels herself and forces a smile, “just went to the doctors.” 

“Oh, everything okay?” He asks. 

“Sure,” she chimes, “just some tests. Nothing serious.” 

“Good to hear,” he stands behind the porch railing, arches crossed, “day’s not over yet. Still lots of time to enjoy the sun.” 

“Mhmm,” you mom grabs onto your wrist, shaking you as leans into you. “Nice day out.” 

“I was gonna do up a milkshake, if you ladies wanted to join me I got plenty to go around.” 

“Milkshakes?” Your mother considers, “mm, I’d have to change out of these.” She looks down, “smell like a hospital.” 

“Sure, take your time,” Steve says, “how about you, honey? I got strawberry. You seem like a strawberry type.” 

“Eh, she’s more a vanilla type,” your other cackles. “Plain.” 

“Got that too,” Steve ignores the joke. “I understand if you’re tired out though. Don’t wanna be too desperate over here, just wouldn’t mind the company.” 

“I’ll be over soon,” your mom assures him, “she’s got some laundry to do.” 

She keeps hold of you and points you towards the house. You help her inside, even though she does her best to hid how she clings to you. Her steps are uneven and stunted. You get through the front door and help her sit on the chair you keep by the door, just in case. 

“Goddamnit,” she’s shaking pretty bad. “Help me, you dumb girl.” 

“I... I don’t...” 

“Get my goddamn inhaler. I forgot it this morning.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You hurry down the hall and to bathroom. It isn’t in the cabinet. You go back out and scan the table. Not their either. You find it next to her recliner. You wish she’d keep it one place. You go back to her and hand it over. 

“I’m gonna go over,” she says before she huffs from the canister, “you’re gonna stay here. Out of my way.” 

“Alright,” you agree. You prefer that anyway. 

She takes a minute before she gets up. She shooes you away and you retreat to your bedroom. You sit on your bed and wring your hands, waiting as you listen to her. She doesn’t say goodbye before she leaves. Only the front door slamming lets you know she’s gone. 

You exhale and pull the fold out table up to the edge of the bed. You open your sketchbook and stare at the pencil. You don’t feel like drawing but you have nothing else to do. You just sit, looking at the amaryllis. You can pick out every flaw in your work. You close the cover and frown. 

A knock startles you and you stand up. Oh gosh, it’s probably Marge. What is it now? Is the siding too stained? Are the steps crooked? You get up and shuffles down the hall. You open the front door, hiding behind it as you poke your head around. 

Steve has the screen door propped open against his elbow. He holds a tall glass filled with pink, “here. Figured I’d bring this over.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you accept the condensating glass, a wide straw poking out of the whipped cream topped drink. 

“Maybe next time you can pop over too,” he suggests, “I’ve been working on getting the pool going...” he grins, “it’ll be a good summer for it.” 

You nod and look down at the milkshake. 

“Really nice of you,” you say. 

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” he puts his hand on the door above him, looking down at you, “enjoy.” 

“Uh,” you look at him then at the straw. You don’t want to be rude. You put your lips around the tip and take a sip. “Mm, yup, good. Thank you.” 

His blue eyes stick to you and he drags his hand down the door, “I’ll make a deal. You come over to see the pool when it’s ready, and I’ll make you another. How about that, sweetie?” 

You push your lips out. It’s not nice to say no. He didn’t have to bring you the milkshake or invite you. You shrug. 

“Okay,” you agree, “erm, thanks again.” 

He nods and taps the door frame before he steps back. He gently closes the screen door and you watch him through. He turns and strides down the stairs. You shiver as the cold glass numbs your fingers. Hopefully, he forgets about the pool thing. You don't even have a suit.

[breezy141]

OMG YOUR CASEOH FIC WAS SOOOO CUTE🩷🩷

PLS PLS write more for him noone writes for him😭😭 maybe a jealousy? One ik it's basic but I think the jealousy trope is so cute BUT ILL LOVE ANYTHING 🩷🩷

of course i csn! also i knoww, i wish people wrote more for him! i hope you like it 💌 masterlist.

jealousy, jealousy | caseoh x f! reader

sum: you and case were currently filming a video for your youtube channel, you were at mcdonald’s chillin. however, case soon became agitated as a “fan” got a little to close to you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

overtime, you had been able to rack up 2.6 million followers on twitch, and 1.4 million on youtube. you were able to make quite a name for yourself, giving you opportunities to do brand deals for clothing brands, and tech-y brands. as well, you’d met some great people such as, jynxzi, his girlfriend breckie, sketch, and caseoh.

quite quickly, you and caseoh clicked. instantly becoming great friends, and hanging out every chance you could, as well as streaming together. such as, PO box openings, playing 3 scary horror games or even filming a few vlogs for your separate youtube channel.

it was obvious that you and case liked each other, but you were both to shy to make the first move. case knew he was yours, just as you knew, you were his.

currently, you and case were clutching at your stomachs as you were both laughing uncontrollably at the the camera. you had seen such a funny moment take place and neither of you could get it out of your mind. you were sat outside of mcdonald’s eating some nuggets, that you both shared.

“i’m sorry that was hilarious” case says while wiping the corners of his eyes, you breathed out slowly as you attempted to calm yourself down. after a bit you continued you talk about some random topics, making sure to address the camera every once and awhile.

while talking, a guy who seemed to be in his early twenties walked up to you and began talking. “hi! i’m a big fan i was just wondering if i could get a picture with you?” you placed does your drink down and nodded to the man. “hi! of course! what’s your name?” the man smiled sweetly. “adam” you smiled back, standing up and wiping off any crumbs.

you clicked off the camera really quickly.

this isn’t the first time someone has asked you for a photo, it doesn’t annoy you too much as you enjoy interacting with your fans. “can you take the picture?” adam asks, pointing his phone towards case, not very kindly either.

you frowned slightly, case sat there staring at the guy, before moving. “yup” he replied, as he took his phone and placed his half eaten nugget down and stood from his chair.

adam placed his hand on your hip and pulled you to his side. you were kind of uncomfortable, you didn’t expect for him to be so handsy, case continued staring not wanting to show his irritation.

“could you maybe put your arm on my shoulder maybe? sorry..” you spoke with a quiet voice, feeling uncomfortable by even bringing it up. “it’s only one photo” adam said, trying to justify his action.

“she said move your arm, do it your not having a picture with her” case spoke up, trying his hardest to hide the pure jealousy. that should be him holding your hips, should be him getting close to you and holding you close to him.

adam cleared his throat and did as he was told. you smiled sweetly, and case took the photo. almost immediately, case handed the phone back to adam. “thank you” he said quietly, walking away from you both.

you hugged your arms, and looked over to case. he watched the guy as he walked away, “are you okay?” he asked, making his way over to you. “yeah, i just didn’t expect him to do that” he nodded and took your hand leading you back to the table.

“i know, i mean he could of least gave you a warning, there was no need for all that” you raised your eyebrow at him “i mean really, he had no basic respect for you. and he should, especially in your presence” he spoke as he used his nugget to point at you. “i don’t like the way he held you, wasn’t right i m-”

“are you jealous, case?” he turned to you and shook his head. “no, why would i be jealous..” you giggled to yourself.

“i’m not jealous”

“okayy”

“don’t do that, i’m NOT”

“okay okay!” you looked over to him, smiling.

“okay maybe just a little, how could i not be though!?” case explained playing with his cap. you could tell he was nervous. “i just didn’t like how he held you like that, he was too close for my liking” he shrugged as he defended himself.

“it’s okay, i understand. i think i’d react the same” he sighed, feeling guilty about the way he reacted, he didn’t want to look you. his knee bounced as he thought about what he said.

you scooted closer to him, and wrapped your hand about his arm. “heyy, it’s okay i promise. i get why you reacted the way you did. no need to be ashamed” you flashed him a sweet smile, and kissed his cheek.

immediately his cheeks went a dark shade of red, you giggled to yourself as you watched him smile to himself. his knee had calmed down completely.

“thank you”

:)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

i hope you enjoyed. it’s currently 11:40pm and i have a maths exam tomorrow. i should be sleepin 🙏