#oh my god this post was about chrissy. she is one of my ocs and i love her🫶 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rckyfrk · 2 years ago

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3, 6, 8, 11, 21, 50 for fanfiction writer asks :)

I am SO very sorry for taking so long to reply to this. I double checked the date you sent this to make sure I was doing the right one.

3. Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I really don't do either. I usually stick with characters from the source material, so I don't end up having many OCs. There are only two stories I've worked on that include an original character - Claimed and Summer of Learning. In Claimed, I added in a high school aged girl in "honor" of the exchange student that was staying with my family at the time and she had a great big crush on Aaron Paul/Jesse Pinkman, so I wrote them together just for shits and giggles. Summer of Learning is based off a prompt (Imagine your dad's best friend is Sean Patrick Flanery and he teaches everything you want to know about sex.) So I ran with it as an OC (but it's in first person, so technically kind of a reader insert?)

6. If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Yeesh. I don't even know if it's still posted anymore, so... Anyway, it was from the very early days of Bethyl, and there was a song prompt for every day of the week, and I fell in love with "Poison and Wine" by The Civil Wars. I was a very new writer and I'd never done a prompt before and I took it fucking literally and made every reference to the song that I could. I mean, it wasn't cringey or anything, at least I don't remember it being so, but it was just so...very very literal to the song. Now I can look back on it and say, "Oh...prompts don't have to be word for word. That's just where you get the idea." Lesson learned.

8. Where do you take your inspiration from?

Anywhere I can get it. Inspiration doesn't seem to be a problem for me. It's motivation.

11.Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

The most I've ever amended was adding tags that I hadn't realized I needed. I've never actually changed any of the content once a story is posted.

21. Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

We are so fortunate in both the Bethyl and Hellcheer fandoms to have so many talented writers. I hate to leave anyone out, but you asked, so...in no particular order...

@gneebee for posting every single week like clockwork. I wish I had an ounce of your discipline? organization? time to yourself?

@piper1016 for how far she's come as a writer, and for never giving up, even when fandoms are waning.

@im-immortal for writing stories that suck me in, even when I have to read them in between my fingers because I can't look directly at them

@pipergirl17 for taking on that enormous task of creating 26 AUs in the yellow pages series. What I’d give for a fraction of that creativity.

@hangon-silvergirl @cunnninghams for writing stories that make me absolutely melt and swoon over Eddie and Chrissy

@majicmarker for taking my favorite characters and writing them as if I'm actually inside their heads, looking around at what makes them tick. And the smut. Dear GOD the smut.

50.If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Fluff. All the way. I don't think I'm great at writing angst (although, fluff without angst is just...kind of filler, isn't it?) I've gotten incredibly gun shy about writing smut. (I think it's been close to three years since I've written a sex scene. Not sure how to get back into the groove at this point...) But cute, fluffy moments between these idiots in love, showing them fall for each other over and over and making sure they get the happy ending they deserve? Yeah. That's my bread and butter, right there.

#rckyfrk writes #rckyfrk answers #rckyfrk cleans out her inbox #bethyl #eddissy #hellcheer #writing stuff #ask games #what are queue waiting for?

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julies-butterflies · 3 years ago

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“My personal space isn’t shared with just anyone.”- Alex and Christina? (pre or post death, whatever works)

ajdjdjdjd when i tell you this prompt excited me --- thank you for asking for one of my ocs, it was so much fun exploring the mercer siblings’ relationship, and alex as a big brother just hits hard. hope you enjoy this!!

He’s on the last page of his chemistry homework, when a knock at the door jars him from periodic equations.

He has to keep his door open now, at all times. It’s one of the new house rules; the same ones that declare Alex can’t go out wearing shorts, no matter how hot it is, and he can’t invite friends over after dark. Usually Alex would roll his eyes and shut his door anyways — he’s doing homework alone in his room in his Jem and the Holograms t-shirt, for god's sake — but if he tries that again, his parents will take his door off. For now, it stays open… and Alex has no privacy whatsoever.

When he looks up, his sister is staring at him.

Christina hovers in the hall, like she’s afraid of getting an electric shock if she steps through the doorway. (Does she know something about his parents’ latest plans that he doesn’t?) When Alex sees her, she stands up straight, bracing a hand against the frame.

Her posture is bold, sure… but her voice is small. “Can I come in?”

Alex raises an eyebrow. His sister is still in her soccer uniform. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, blonde strands flying loose to hang around her face. Her bangs are starting to frizz. She definitely hasn’t showered since sweating it out at practice. The grass stains covering her uniform prove she went for some tough saves today, and probably got in a tussle with the opposing team — her favorite part of soccer.

Chris is Chris, and she’s not afraid of anything… except, apparently, coming into her gay brother’s room.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “Can you?”

Chris’s mouth twists in annoyance. “I’m asking.”

“Oh. For permission?” He raises his eyebrows, waiting her out. “Well, I don’t know, Chris. My personal space isn’t shared with just anyone.”

Chris rolls her eyes. “Since when am I ‘just anyone’?”

She’s his sister — which means it’s her job to bother him, whether he wants her around or not. Without a second’s hesitation, she charges in. Once she’s standing in the middle of Alex’s room, she plants her hands on her hips, victorious… and stays that way.

An awkward second passes... and then an awkwarder one. Her plan clearly ran out at “annoy Alex by invading his room”, and she doesn’t know where to go from here.

In typical little sister fashion, she immediately decides to snoop. Chris breaks the staring contest by turning towards Alex’s bureau. It’s well-organized, with his walkman on one end, and his stack of favorite CDs on the other. Whitney, Bowie, Madonna… she looks them all over, then stands on her toes to peer past them, to the things taped on the wall around the mirror. There are a few pictures of him and the band… some spare Sunset Curve tickets, a flyer from their last show… a poster of Queen… magazine cutouts of John Bonham and Roger Taylor that, god, his parents are definitely going to take the wrong way…

And a tiny rainbow flag tacked on his wall, just above his middle school diploma.

Chris’s eyes linger on it. Alex watches her… watches her hover, watches her fidget. Like he’s some kind of stranger. Like they didn’t grow up in each others’ space constantly, before everything changed.

She turns, and Alex is caught staring. He raises one hand — the one with the brightly colored pride bracelet oh his wrist — to wave at her.

She flinches.

Something in his chest tightens, like the last spasms of a dying animal. He takes a deep breath, and pushes it out slowly, before he can meet her eyes again.

“I’m not gonna infect you, Chrissy.”

Her brows crinkle. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want. I’m your big brother.” The bed creaks, and Alex grunts like an old man as he pushes himself up. “I could call you ‘Rocks For Brains’ if I felt like it.”

“If that’s the best you can come up with, I’m not the one with rocks in my brain.”

It’s a flicker of old playfulness— the sort of bickering they could carry on for hours when they were younger— and Alex seizes on it, because it feels so familiar. A tiny smirk tugs at his lips. “You can do better? Okay.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her stare lingers on him for a minute, before falling to the floor. Alex drums on his knee, restless. “Hit me with your best shot. Come on, Chris, throw something at me. Make me cry.”

She inhales, and exhales something all in one breath, without looking at him. “Dad called you something really mean.”

Oh. That… that was a good one.

Silence fills the room. A boulder sinks to the very pit of Alex’s stomach, and ice water rises like backwash in his throat.

His little sister still can’t meet his eyes. She’s holding herself tense, like she’s going to explode. When Alex leans forward, a shadow passes over her face.

“He said it in front of you?”

She shakes her head. “I was hiding in the stairs again.”

A bit of Alex’s horror dissolves away. He ducks his head, exhaling, before shaking the hair out of his eyes. “You big snoop, will you quit that? You’re not five years old anymore, and you’re not stealthy, you’re gonna get caught…”

The more he rants, the more annoyed Christina becomes… but the more she relaxes. No longer does she look sick to her stomach, or terrified of Alex’s reaction (afraid? of him?). It’s some kind of victory.

Alex waits until she rolls her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder, before letting his big brother annoyance fall away. Inside, he just feels… empty. It definitely shows in his eyes.

“He shouldn’t be saying those things around you.”

“He shouldn’t be saying them to begin with,” Chris retorts. “You’re still his son.”

It’s funny, hearing this from the sister who’s forgotten how to act like a sister — ever since Alex told their parents “I like boys”, since he punctured the glass dome of their lives and watched the world rain down around them. He hasn’t changed, but he changed everything. It’s his fault, his fault. That’s their excuse. If he hadn’t been different... if he’d just kept it inside... if he’d let Mom set him up with one of the nice girls from church... if he’d just talk to Father Michael, Alex, please —

Their family is a mess of fragments now, a shattered figurine held together by children’s glue. Every day, new spiderweb cracks appear. Every day, they’re closer to breaking. They were damaged before Alex ever said a word, but his confession pushed it all over the edge. With their family in ruins, Chris has no one to blame but him.

She doesn’t even talk to him anymore. Barely even looks at him. And he tells himself it doesn’t hurt, but…

She’s his little sister, and she blames him for everything.

“Yeah, well… funny how he forgets that.” He clears his throat, and plays with the hem of his t-shirt. Suddenly, having Chris in here isn’t fun, isn’t familiar; it just feels like poking a stick in an open wound. “Is that what you came in here for? ‘Let’s bug Alex and ruin his day at the same time’?”

His tone is harsher than it needs to be. He wants her to recoil. Instead, Chris flares up. She takes two steps closer to the side of the bed, and crosses her arms in front of her. “I... did bad on a math test, okay? When Mom and Dad find out…” She swallows. Her gaze falls. “They’re gonna freak.”

Oh, yeah. Alex remembers how obsessive his parents were about their grades. Anything below an ‘A’ just wasn’t good enough. How did they expect to get into a top-tier university with grades like these? It must be nice to still be able to let their parents down for regular reasons.

“I think we already know who the family disappointment is,” Alex replies, looking back down at his homework. “You’ll be fine.”

Chris doesn’t speak; she doesn’t move. The silence hangs in the air until it’s deafening, and Alex is ready to crawl out of his own skin. Still, he doesn’t look up… until he hears his sister laugh.

It’s a bitter, cracking sound, like broken glass crunching underfoot. A fifteen year old girl should never sound like that — especially not Alex’s little sister.

“That’s it, then? You’ve really quit.”

“Quit on what, Chris?” He stares at her without flinching, even as her face twists in anger.

“On us! On caring. On… wanting to make things better!”

He doesn’t mean to react, but his voice bursts out before he can stop it. “You’ve really just decided it’s all my fault, huh?”

“I never said that! But you’re the one who had to come out and —“ Alex’s hard stare dares her to finish the sentence. Chris backtracks. “Everything’s messed up now, and you won’t even try to fix it! And where does that leave me?”

“I don’t know,” he shoots back, and the venom in his own voice stings. “You’ve pretty clearly taken your side!”

“I don’t have a side!”

“Against me, you do!”

“It’s not all about you, Alex! They still care about my grades! They care about me!”

Silence follows the explosion; it rings louder than the bomb. The air is too thick to breathe, smothering with rage that hasn’t had the chance to dissipate. Liquid magma pulses beneath Chris’s skin. Her eyes are wild; her shoulders heave; she inhales short, needy gasps for air, like what’s coming into her lungs isn’t enough. In contrast, Alex — who hasn’t moved from his seat on the bed — is completely still, and completely silent.

After an explosion, there’s always the moment of adrenaline… and, once that fades away, horror.

The horror sets in quickly.

“I didn’t... I didn’t mean...”

He can’t look at her — can’t watch her face change from simmering anger to horror, can’t watch the realization settle and fill her veins with ice. When he turns away, she makes a tiny noise, like he’s just hit her. Alex forces himself not to turn back.

Don’t react; don’t let it hurt; don’t feel it. That’s been his strategy for surviving since day one, since his parents decided they could no longer look at him.

“I know. Chris,” he says. “It’s... whatever.”

“No, it isn’t!” Her voice chokes, and that feels like a punch to his chest. Chris is hotheaded, dramatic to a fault… but even as a baby, she never, ever cried. No matter what Alex did, no matter how he took her toys, stole her food… the countless times they roughhoused, and one of them (usually Alex) ended up getting hurt… Chris never shed a tear over any of it.

Now, when she inhales, it wavers. Alex spins around before he knows what he’s doing…

Just in time to catch the body that slams into him.

“WHUH—“

She nearly knocks them both off the bed. Alex catches himself, somehow, and twists to the side, so they’re both balanced in the center of the mattress. From there, it’s just a challenge not to fall over.

“Oh god, what are you doing?”

“Hugging you!” Chris grunts into his chest.

She smells like soccer team, her uniform has to be filthy, and she’s wrapped around him like an anaconda. “Why?”

“Because you need it, idiot, and — and —“ She huffs into his chest, and her arms tighten. Alex hears his ribs creak. Hugging her back is more of a defense mechanism than anything else. He wraps an arm around her mid back, and starts massaging circles into her shoulders. Slowly, as Chris relaxes, her death grip loosens.

When she tilts her head up, her nose is level with Alex’s chin. If he moves too suddenly, he could give her a nasty bruise… so he stays very still.

“When's the last time someone hugged you?” she asks.

Alex huffs. “Literally three hours ago. You’ve met Luke, right? My best friend, kind of a koala bear?”

Chris is quiet for a minute… for so long, actually, that Alex gets used to the weight of her in his arms. His gentle massage turns less urgent, more earnest. It feels nice to be close to her — when they haven’t been, for the longest time— even if she does smell like gross teenage girl, and is probably getting grass stains on his bed.

“It’s not the same,” she finally says. “You need your family too, Alex.”

He tries to ignore the way that comment twists in his gut like a knife, tries to brush it off and say not worth it… but his sister is earnest too, and her eyes are glistening, and he can’t push it away.

“They don’t want me, Chris. Not as I am. That’s not my fault, and… there’s nothing I can do about it.” Except take the hint.

Her brows furrow, anger mixing with unshed tears. “So you’re just giving up?”

He doesn’t want to fight again. He doesn’t want to stir her up— to make her pull away, when this is the closest they’ve been in ages. Alex tries to soften his tone; he grips her shoulders gently. “I wish things were different,” he sighs. “I wish they were. But… I’m through wishing I could be different. That’s not something I’ll ever do again.”

He knows better than to think she understands — Chris, whose only exposure to gay people has been the sermons at church, the distant cousin they no longer speak to, and their parents’ newfound vitriol — but, to her credit, she doesn’t pull away.

“What about family?” she asks instead, sad eyes reflecting Alex’s own heartache.

“Family… isn’t always about sharing genes with someone. If Mom and Dad don’t want me as their son anymore... I can find a new family.”

Hurt flashes across her face, quick enough to miss. He sees her gates start to close again, the walls going up, even as she pulls away from him.

“Oh,” Chris says. “Good for you.”

Suddenly, Alex knows without a question in his heart — if he loses her now, there’ll never be a way back. There won’t be any fixing things. She’ll never trust him again; he’ll never get to hold her; whatever tenuous bond still exists between them will snap, and it can never be repaired.

“But it’s different,” he says suddenly, impulsively. His hands tighten around her shoulders before she can pull away, forcing her to look at him. “I can’t get new parents. Which... fine, okay.” He swallows. “But I can’t get a new sister, either.”

Chris stares at him, for so long, so hard; like his soul is a map, unfolded on the table and laid bare for her to read. Whatever she finds brings the sheen back to her eyes. Her lip trembles. When she speaks, it’s almost too soft for him to hear.

“Do you still want a sister?”

Alex blinks. His heart freezes in his chest. From a distance, he’s sure he hears the world grind to a halt, hears the breeze stop blowing and the oceans stop flowing… but all that exists is his sister, his pain-in-the-neck shadow since they were kids, sitting in front of him with tears in her eyes.

He thinks he says her name out loud. It’s hard to be sure.

The next thing he knows for certain, Chris is in his arms, and he’s holding her tighter than he’s ever held anything, ever.

His grip must be bonecrushing, but she doesn’t fight back. Chris’s arms are around him, hugging him just as tight. Her breathing is heavy against the shoulder of his shirt, like she’s fighting back tears. When he feels her back tremble, Alex hushes her, and massages a circle between her shoulder blades. No one makes his kid sister cry… not even him.

“No matter what happens,” he says. “No matter how bad things get, or how either of us get hurt — and I’d do anything to keep you from hurting, but sometimes…” Sometimes, it can’t be avoided. In a family like theirs, it’s guaranteed. Alex can’t change their parents, and he can’t change himself… he can’t control the future. “We never know what life’s going to throw at us next. But no matter what, Chris… ‘til the day I die, you’ll always be my sister. And I’ll always be your brother.”

When his sister finally pulls away to look at him, tears glisten on her cheeks.

“You promise?” she asks hoarsely.

He gives her ponytail a tiny tug, and blows at her bangs, ruffling them up. Chris’s face scrunches up… but she’s not crying anymore, and that’s the most important thing in the world. Chris isn’t a sentimental person; she doesn’t handle gooey, heart-to-heart feelings well for long. When he smirks at her, though, the tension is broken… and the last of it drains out of her shoulders.

“Don’t be a brat,” Alex mutters, and gives her shoulder a tiny squeeze. Of course I do.”

Chris leans into him, slumping against his side. Alex wraps an arm around her, pulling her in… and for a while, it’s enough to just sit like that, sibling and sibling enjoying the quiet of their house after nightfall.

It might be miserable… but at least they don’t have to face it alone.

#alex mercer #what youve lost verse #jatp #julie and the phantoms #my fics

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greatkinglulu · 6 years ago

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Claire de Lune [Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor] One.

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x female!OC

Warnings: none, I think.

Word count: 2529.

A/N: Hey! I know I said I’d post this by the end of December, but I’m the procrastination queen so... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this crap. Please let me know what you think!

And if you enjoy reading while listening to music, here’s a playlist I especially made!

“Hurry up already, Claire!“ A loud yell came from the front of the house, but the girl didn’t really pay any mind to it. It was her father calling, and the man had an obsession for being sharply punctual to any place he had to go. “We’re gonna be late, again!“ Another yell echoed through the length of the house until it reached Claire’s room, once again. She dismissed it.

The petite brunette was in a dilemma: she didn’t know which skirt to pick, and she knew that asking her mother for help would imply the wrong thing; well, not wrong, but not everybody needed to know why she was taking her outfit so serious this time.

You see, in any other mundane occasion, Claire wouldn’t have cared about her skirt, or any other piece of clothing for that matter. She would had put on the first thing she could find in her closet, but that evening she had an impression to make. Little did she know whatever skirt she ended up picking would go pretty much unnoticed…

“Oliver, dear,“ waiting in the living room, resting on the armrest of the armchair her husband was impatiently sitting in, she cupped his left cheek, making him meet her eyes. “relax.“ She smiled. “It’s not like they will be mad at us for being ten minutes late. You know how Claire gets every time she knows we’re having dinner with the Taylors. Just… give her her time to get ready.“ Alexine smiled once again, and kissed her husband’s forehead softly.

“She got that from your side of the family,“ Oliver complained. “all you French people care about are looks!“ He threw his hands in the air for emphasis.

His wife let out a curse he couldn’t understand, and made her way towards Claire’s bedroom.

“My darling Claire de Lune, are you ready?“ She barely opened the door, and waited for her daughter to let her in.

Claire motioned with her head for her mother to sit on her bed while she finished her hair. She was too busy and focused to speak. With a huff and a roll of eyes, she decided that her hair would look better let down, and so she let her curls loose.

“I’m done. Does this look decent enough?“ She stood up from her seat and gestured at herself, unsure. “And do I really have to go? You know it’s not the same anymore… and I get bored, mum.“ She sighed.

“You look stunning, dear.” Her mother stood up too, and stroked her shoulder, reassuringly. “You know it’d be rude if you didn’t go; you have already excused yourself a few times. Now let’s go before I have to kill your father.“ Her mother laughed at her own joke, trying to light up the mood, but it was no use.

After a few minutes, the door was opened, revealing an extremely cheerful, blonde woman. “How good it is to see you all again!” She kissed both adults on their cheeks briefly and engulfed Claire in a bone-crushing hug, as if it was the last time she’d see the girl. “Please, come on in.” She gestured the whole family to get inside.

”Roger!” The nice woman called. “Come down and say hello to our guests! He’ll be here in a minute.” She reassured the young brunette with a huge smile, but that never happened.

Mrs. Taylor closed the door behind her, complimenting Claire on her outfit while she led both women to the kitchen, at the same time her father disappeared behind the doors to Mr. Taylor’s studio, after he had said hello.

Claire felt her cheeks heating up and she tried to play it cool. “Oh, you already know me. Just trying to keep it casual.” She tried to glue the most confident smile she had on her face, and took a sip of her tea. She put down her cup on the counter and fidgeted with her hands on her lap, and bounced her feet against the floor; Claire couldn’t stay still for too long.

Lost in her own thoughts to make time go by faster, while her mother engaged conversation with Mrs. Taylor, she was startled when the blonde woman slightly touched her wrist. “Dear, Rog is up in his room with the boys. I’m sure they won’t mind you up there with them. Go have fun!”

Claire got up from her stool, the fakest smile spreading on her lips, even if she didn’t mean to, and unsurely made her way towards the staircase. “Sure…” she sighed, and as the sound of both women chatting away became lighter and lighter, she still caught her mother telling Mrs. Taylor how she had actually spent two hours getting ready for this get together, a couple of laughs following. She cursed her mum in her mind and rolled her eyes, while she hopped up the steps to the upper floor.

She was bored to death, hearing “the adults” as they referred to themselves, talking and laughing from downstairs and the boys gossiping from a few doors to her right. Sitting with her legs crossed in the hallway upstairs, waiting for the boys to leave, she sighed and looked at the clock. “Just fifteen more minutes”, Claire Reid thought to herself.

Time seemed to pass even slower just to annoy her. Thank God they left, eventually.

She waited a few more minutes after they were gone, and getting up from her spot, she straightened her skirt before approaching the door rather cautiously. It was slightly opened, but she knocked softly a few times anyway. Her older friend raised up his eyes from the comic he was reading, “Hey.”, he greeted, half smile on his face.

“May I come in?”, her voice had come softer than she intended, and she huffed to herself in annoyance for that.

“Sure,” Roger patted a spot on his bed next to him, beckoning Claire to sit. “take a sit.”

“Thanks, I thought I was gonna die out of boredom.”, she rolled her eyes dramatically and he chuckled at her comment. That made Claire feel slightly proud, she had made Roger laugh.

“C'mon, it’s not that bad!”, he cheered.

“You say that because you have friends. What were you all talking about anyway?”, she was half genuinely curious and half just wanting to know what the fuss was all about when she heard that “Carl had already kissed Chrissie, on the lips!”

He just glanced at her and pursed his lips.

“I heard about the kiss. And I’m not stupid, Roger.” Claire crossed her arms above her chest and turned herself to face Roger. She didn’t like it when her friend underestimated her, just because he was three years older.

“Fine. Carl was talking about how he kissed Chrissie after school. It’s not a big deal, though. Just a kiss.”, he didn’t give the matter much thought, and rolled his eyes as a response to his insisting friend. “They didn’t even snog.” He mocked.

Claire lowered her gaze to her hands that were laying on her lap now, and asked, “Have you… Have you had your first kiss yet?” She didn’t even dare to look up.

Roger had lost his interest in his comic, so he set it aside on his desk.

“Well, yeah.” Roger snorted, “‘Course I have. I’m sixteen. It would be lame if I haven’t by now, wouldn’t it?”

Claire just nodded, not being able to say a word, as embarrassment ate her up from the inside.

“Guess I’m lame, then.” Getting up from his bed as soon as she could, Claire was ready to make her way out of his room, when Roger grabbed her arm stopping her.

“Claire, don’t go. Wait!” He was quicker than her and closed the door, not moving from where he was standing now. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?, he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

She took her sit back in defeat. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.” If stares could kill, Roger would have been dead by now.

“Claire, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Is that, you’re thirteen…”, he explained, regretting his words from minutes ago.

“So? I know I’m lame, there’s no need to make me feel bad about it.”

“You’re not lame. I said I didn’t mean it like that. You could never be lame, Claire de Lune,” her head shot up at the mention of her special nickname that Roger had stolen from her mother years ago, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. “I just meant that for Carl.” He made his way back to his bed and sat once again. “It’ll happen when time is right. You’ll be having all the boys drooling because of you and they’ll be dying for a snog with you… and all the other girls will be jealous because you’re the prettiest of them all. You’ll see, Claire.” He patted her thigh affectionately and gave her a reassuring smile.

Claire wished she could throw herself out of the window because she was blushing like crazy. Did he say she was the prettiest girl?

“You’re lying, Rog.” She accused him, giving him a slight punch on his shoulder.

He pretended to be hurt, by both the accusation and the punch. “No, I’m not. I do think you’re really pretty, you silly.” Claire rolled her eyes. “In fact, I’m surprised there’s not a queue of guys right out this door, right this moment just waiting for a kiss.”, he joked.

“They make fun of me at school. They call me names. I don’t think I’ll ever have my first kiss.” The younger girl deflated, sighting sadly.

Roger clenched his fists so tightly, that his knuckles went white. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “What time do you get out of school exactly? I think I have to pay those assholes you have for classmates a visit. They’ll leave you alone for sure.”

“No,” Claire took one of his fists in her hands and he let it relax. “You don’t have to do that. There’s no need, Rog. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. I’m fine, anyway.” She drew patterns on his big hand with her tiny fingers. “I’ll get my first kiss sometime, ‘it’s not a big deal’.” She mocked him.

“Oi!” They laughed. “Let’s make a deal,” Roger proposed and Claire paid full attention. “if you don’t get your first kiss by the time you turn sixteen, I’ll give it to you. I’ll be your first kiss.”

Claire gasped, her eyes going so big, she thought they would fall out of their sockets. “But-”

“Ah, ah,” he interrupted her, raising his finger. “let me finish. You got to tell me if you get it before your birthday though, okay? Do we have a deal?”

Sighting once again to hide a smile, Claire rolled her eyes. “We do.” She thought he was just trying to be nice and that everything would have slipped his mind by the next morning.

—–

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR CLAIRE!” All the members from both the Taylors and the Reids sang in unison. It was a Friday evening when both families decided to have a little get together at the Taylor’s, as usual, and they all had lost track of time when the big clock in the living room struck at midnight, indicating that it was Claire’s sixteenth birthday.

Roger took her hand subtly and led her upstairs.

“Don’t be too long up there gossiping you two! The cake will be ready any minute!” Mrs. Taylor called. Her son just waved her off.

Roger let Claire inside first and closed the door behind him. His room was barely lit by his lamp on his bedside table and the light the moon was casting through the bedroom window.

He walked over her direction, but every step he gave, every step the girl would take back. That was until her back was almost touching the wall.

He cupped her face and caressed her left cheek with him thumb, Claire unconsciously looked down. Roger tilted her chin up with one finger and whispered, “Happy birthday, Claire de Lune.”, Claire shuddered a bit at the mention of her nickname for the first time after so many years. Right after, he closed the small gap between them. Now cupping her face with both hands, feeling her soft, hot lips against his; her perfume making him dizzy. He realized he wanted more. He craved more. But he had to let her go because he had just promised a kiss.

“Cake is ready!” A faint yell came from the kitchen.

Roger let go of Claire reluctantly, after a few seconds of hearing his mum calling them both from downstairs.

Claire opened her wondering, brown eyes startled, trying to get some oxygen back into her lungs, because she had forgotten how to breathe. Her gaze not leaving Roger’s, no matter how embarrassed she was right now.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?“ A smug smile on his face, and Claire could have sworn she had never heard Roger’s voice so husky before, not even in the mornings.

“There’s- You have some lipstick smudged…“ The curly haired girl couldn’t bring herself to answer, but of course that wasn’t so bad. That wasn’t bad at all. That was magnificent. Not that she was gonna tell him so; not that she was gonna tell him anything.

Her friend simply cleaned any red spots from his mouth and around it with the back of his hand, as if he knew too well the procedure. “Still,” He traced Claire’s lips with his thumb, since she too looked a bit… disheveled, trying to fix her lipstick as best as he could. “you haven’t answered my question.” Voice low, almost like a whisper.

“What do you want me to say? No, it wasn’t so bad.“ She just swallowed, and Roger couldn’t control himself so he gave her a little peck. She let a smile spread freely on her face.

“Good. ‘M glad you liked your birthday present from me, love.“ The blond took the brunette’s hand in his, unconsciously.

“Although… there are a few things for you to improve.“ Claire joked.

“Don’t get too cocky now, missy.“ Roger snorted and then both fell into laughter.

“We should get going…“ She trailed off, paranoia fogging her mind, and she knew neither of them wanted to, but they had to.

The two of them made their way down, hand in hand, until they reached the corner of the the staircase, and Claire let go of Roger, bringing both hands to fix her hair even though there wasn’t anything to be fixed. Roger gave her a look at that, and then his gaze glued to his feet; not for too long, he didn’t want neither his nor her parents to get suspicious.

“Dear Lord above! What took you two so long up there?!“ Mrs. Taylor had her hands on her hips and her eyes were swinging back and forth between her son and Claire.

“None of your business.“ Roger answered, getting a piece of cake for Claire, who just gave Mrs. Taylor an apologetic smile, and then got himself a huge chunk of cake.

“Oi! You better watch it, young man!“ She warned her son, not so patient eyes following him.

The blond rolled his eyes, making his way to the living room, subtly squeezing Claire’s back in the process, telling her to join him on the big, green sofa. She did.

Tag list: @drowsyroger, @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg, @rogerandhishair, @deacydeacy, @apinkwhisperscollector, @16wiishes, @i-am-sarah, @lizgarxo, @royalrhaposdy, @70srogertaylor, @lfcbvb, @thelottiebook, @rogerbuttersmyeggroll, @mclfanatic, @stanrogertaylor, @how-many-more-bloody-galileos, @wolverinesbeer, @freddiesstache

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mothraballs · 6 years ago

Photo

Sketchbooks From Over The Last Seven Years

I have a box of sketchbooks and random sketches that I’ve been adding to since I was about 12. Today I went through it all and I decided I’d make a post about it because. idk. why not I guess? So obviously its not every page of every book but like if anyone wants to go through about 7 years of bad sketchbooks and loose sketches and doodles its under the cut. Some nudity

.Going through this sucked a little because like who in the world ever wants to go through their middle school art??? Its hard not to get rid of that stuff because like not only does it suck but it makes me remember middle school and things like anime club and like. ew. But it’s nice to see how much less I suck at this, even if i’m not nearly as talented as I’d like to be. It also makes me sad to think of art i’ve lost, even if it was bad. I don’t have pretty much anything that I did digitally from like age 13-16 because I either deleted it or lost it when a computer broke because i didnt back that up since I didnt think id care but l kinda wish I still had some of that stuff, just like to compare improvement over such a big time period.

I wanted to find some of my actual finished art to post with this, but I couldn’t find it today, so it’s only sketchbook stuff (but I dont finish a lot of things anyway lol). Maybe I’ll make another post comparing old things I actually finished with new stuff once I can find it because I know it’s around here somewhere anyway heres sketchbooks!!

This is from 7th grade, so I guess I was 12. It’s god fucking awful, complete with drawings of memes (which I will spare u from), slenderman fan art, and a weird message about my middle school bike, which I still have in my garage, being stolen, which it never was. And the brakes do work.

why

This one is also from when I was 12, but it’s only about 1/4 of the way full.

i think i had a mental brakedown here lmao

@douche-mccoosh ‘s sexy page

This one was either from 7th-8th grade or just in 8th grade. Idk. Either way I was probably 13 years old. Just a warning: Mlp fan art starts here

1 (ONE) wolf

idk what this is supposed to be honestly

long forgotten OC

This one was also from when I was 13

I had this from age 13-14, I started drawing digitally a LOT more around age 14, so I guess I wasnt rly using my sketchbook as much

this was like straight copied from a piece I saw at an art magnet school I applied to (obviously I didnt get in lmfao) and I really did not understand how dark I needed to make the paper in some spots. And then I never finished it

A pony OC... she was a robot ok

I think I had this one age 14-15. The paper ended up being translucent so I stopped using it early on. Im kinda glad I didn’t fill it up because that actually might be kinda useful to me now

Sweet notes from @lmkno

This one wasn’t in the picture on the top bc I found it later. I think I might also be missing like 1 other one too tbh but oh well lol I think I had it when I was 15? really stopped drawing like a lot around this time, I wasn’t doing digital stuff either cuz my computer was broken at the time

This is also about when I stopped throwing away every single thing i drew on a loose piece of paper, so here’s some random sketches from the general timeframe

First sketches of my OCs Vonn, the fish man and Elliot, the girl with pigtails

Some of my art I’ve sorted correlating to the OC’s and the universe they belong in or whatever so here’s some OC’s that sort of came about around that time, some of the pictures are from when I was older though

Ginger

the TV head robot guy was named Seven

the guy with the fuckin,, circle head and weird face is Wolfgang, I still draw him a lot today but ive changed how he looks a l o t

I had this age 15-16, so like 2014-15. Maybe early 2016? There’s a lot of blank pages and scribbled out things. I

Wolfgang again

fukkin,,,, gaye ass furry roleplay oc

Sketches on loose paper from the time I think??? I honestly cant tell when all of these are from but they’re gonna go here.

first design of an OC named Eryl

A random D20 character

Eryl

Early drawings of an OC named Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy Lucy aka Lucy Ninetimes

Lucy & Wolfgang

And heres more stuff I had sorted by OCs/universe or whatever

main OCs here are Pidgenfinger, with the blue or possibly stylistic black hair, and Chrissy, shes like. A mouse or something

main OCs here are Roland and Ansel, they were like siamese twins and then one of them died at birth and now this guy just has a ghost twin idk it was stupid

Finally we’re at the point that my phone started recognizing faces in my sketchbook. I had this one age 17, i might have started it like right before I turned 17?