#scribbles by mike

[squidinu]

cryptid swap

[ashyy-slashyy]

howard moon my sun moon stars earth and sky

[fivemonsturzzzwowz]

this is the only thing i can draw and send anywhere without spoilering the movie for literally everyone i know. 10000/10 . i will be watching it 1000 more times

[fleetn-crab85]

for all my monkees girlies out there, I'm projecting my period cramps onto Mike Nesmith for you

[kurtmustdie]

Hello gay people in my phone

🇵🇸

[rugwurm]

its me... michael....

[fluffyfangirl]

I have a workshop at work, but Byler is always present in my head and my hand needs to be busy:

[sketch-pencilpoint]

I'm hopelessly addicted to taurs (it's a full au at this point)

Edit: commission info under cut

[spacy-snail]

Vanessa: if you actually want to survive this job, you’re going to need this *pulls out unlabeled VHS tape*

Mike: *confusedly and hesitantly takes the tape*

LATER

Mike: *at home, puts the tape into a player* *the camera zooms in on the static of the tv* *he presses play on the remote*

TV: HELLO EVERYONE! MY NAME IS MARKIPLIER AND THIS IS YOUR GUIDE ON HOW TO NOT DIE AT YOUR JOB AT FREDDY FAZBEARS PIZZA

[bramblepaws]

hey

*hands you this*

[squidinu]

i thought this was funny

[ashyy-slashyy]

theyre so annoying naboo cant even get a midnight hash cake

(meme this is based off below the cut)

[fivemonsturzzzwowz]

call mike schmidt nightmare foxy the way hes in that closet

[fleetn-crab85]

More Monkees Yellow Submarine content but now I reveal Frida! (The stand-in for Fred!)

[monpalace]

written with black reader in mind, but kept vague. no pronouns used (you/your). ooc mike/micheal. 700 words.

It was three hours past the agreed time and half of your body had long since fallen asleep.

It was a tight fit, but you and Abby had managed to find some awkward yet comfortable position on your old pull-out couch.

You both lay on your sides facing each other, Abby tucking her face into the crook of your neck and shoulder while her head found cushion on your arm. The thick blanket and closeness did well to combat the chill Autumn air and your hunk-of-junk heating unit.

The lights from the TV flashed throughout the living room of your too-small apartment, only confirming your suspicions that Abby had begun drooling on your arm. Her nose had begun to whistle with snores, somehow matching the theme to whatever after-hours adult cartoon was airing.

If she would've let you, you'd fix her so that she laid on her back instead. Every time you tried to gently nudge her away, she'd just tighten her snake-like hug around your waist and tangle your legs further.

If it were any other kid, you would've pulled away regardless.

Pushing a piece of escaped hair behind her ear, you call her a lucky girl under your breath and press a kiss to her head.

Time is relative when it's the dead of night and there are no clocks around. You can't even hope to try and gauge what time it is when a soft knock hits your door without doubting yourself a thousand times.

You know it's Mike by the way he knocks out a gentle nursery rhyme— Garrett's favorite, "Baa, Baa Black Sheep,"— before he slips the key to your apartment into the lock.

His eyes are both wide and close to sealing shut. His feet barely lift when he steps inside, scuffed shoes trudging against the hard, wooden flooring.

He's rubbing at his eyes like they were a stain he just couldn't get off, the flashing light of the room revealing the skin around them turning pink like quartz.

"Hey, turtle."

Mike jumps, knocking his head on the door and dropping the keys when he jolts. It takes him a moment to lift his head and look to where you and Abby lay, but he visibly relaxes when he does.

He waits until he's done locking the door to address you, eyes flickering to the TV before thinning his lips when it shines too brightly. "You're still up?"

"I'm in pain," you answer, the hand resting on Abby's back escaping the confines of the covers to pat the small sliver of space available on the ratty mattress.

The frame creaks and bends under his weight, but Abby doesn't stir. Her body finally rolls away from you (not off your arm, though) and towards Mike.

"How long?"

"A while."

Mike huffs out a laugh while he brushes Abby's hair away from her face with a knuckle. He lowers his hand to find your own, clasping it around your clammy one.

It's fucking frigid.

Your lips pucker as though you had eaten a lemon, muscles forcing your arm to not snatch your hand away and accidentally hit Abby in the process.

"Mike!" Your voice is hoarse and barely below a whisper, but it's still enough to convey both shock and anger. "You dick!"

There's a fox-ish smile on his face that still drips with exhaustion. He awkwardly leans over Abby to reach you, the hand that previously held yours instead finding purchase on the back of your head.

Honestly, he should consider himself lucky your headscarf kept the chill of his fingers from reaching your head.

"You don't mind it," he rasps while pressing his lips to your forehead. It's a more welcomed change in temperature compared to anywhere else on his body, yet you lean and yawn into the affection. "Where're my clothes?"

"Where they always are," either mixed with your clean laundry somewhere in your hamper or just as equally meshed together with everything in your drawers. "'re you spending the night?"

"It's three," he answers, pulling away and doing an awkward stretch as he stands. "Don't wanna wake her up."

"Carry us to bed when you get out the shower?"

Mike hums and you know he'll do it regardless of his eye roll.

[plushietoon]

The twins are a handful.