#skiddyyo

[finniestoncrane]

I found your blog through ao3 and even though I am a professional tumblr lurker usually, I had to jump in here and say I am absolutely obsessed with your blog and ESPECIALLY your writing ❤ You are SO talented and also I'm completely and hopelessly in love with arkham riddler so I'm always happy to see a kindred spirit in that lollll anyway best wishes <3 <3

i am going to SCREAM this is so nice and i also love you now like the parasite i am u-u

i hope the arkham ed nonsense i spew out here is adequate in your simping omg he's just so pretty, he's a superior calibre of goblin and i love him with all of my heart 💚 and plsssss i am not talented i am just so thirsty for so many villains it needs to come out in some form ;-;

[vicunaburger]

Hmmm I want to know your writing process! Do you outline first? Just start typing furiously and edit after? Spill the deets my friend.

AW MAN, GOOD QUESTION.

If I’m having a block, I try to handwrite it out on paper. Usually it’s just like the bare bones of dialogue and plot points, but it’s enough to to remind myself later when I go back and work on it.

If I’m super into it? TYPE FIRST, EDIT LATER. I just plop myself down and start tippy-tapping. I use this nice program called “Zenwriter”, which just like a fancy word processing program that has a dark theme and blocks out nonsense.

If I’m really frisky, I will sit there and act out the parts. Like, talk to myself and move around the room to get the logistics right. 8D

[freelance-bioexorcist]

Happy birthday!!! I'd love to see you draw the Maitlands ❤ nothing specific I just love them

Thank u !!!

They love each other sm ,,,

[elitespacefreak]

I love the idea that Zim bakes from scratch because he has such a hard time with the chemicals in most of the food. Gir happily sits on the counter with the cookbook and probably plays Spotify or smth. ~<3

[lafaiette]

I just wanted to tell you that "Give Yourself To Harmony" is AMAZING and by far my favorite piece of ME:A fanfic. The angst, the character interactions/dialogue, the romance; it is all perfect. I can't wait for more ❤

Ahhhh, thank you so much!

[agenttexsflippedshit]

skiddyyo replied to your post:

RONI ilu

EXCITED POINTING

OMG ILU2 

YALL SEE THIS BRO I LOVE HER V MUCH

[swan--writes]

Can you please write human by Christina Perry for Dewey please x

Look, I might as well tell you now that all of my remaining songfic requests are pretty angsty. Imma round it out with a fluffy non-request, just be aware: we have returned, my friends, to the angst corner.

Warnings: sad Dewey

Words: 975

I can hold my breath.

Dewey could handle this.

I can bite my tongue

He could.

I can stay awake for days…

He promised.

If that’s what you want.

When he was with his students, his fellow instructors, you, he could hold it in. It was just when he was alone that he crumbled.

It wasn’t that he was unhappy – that couldn’t have been it. He had everything: a partner who loved him, a job he adored, a nice apartment, steady cash flow. But for some reason, the dry February air was sucking his spirit dry. He was terrified you would notice, yet at the same time, he was hoping you would.

Dewey hated the part of himself that wanted you to notice. What kind of partner was he, if he actually wanted you to witness his misery? His despondence? You had already been having a hard enough month, and he knew that he needed to take care of you. He was hiding it as best he could, but was it enough?

I can fake a smile.

No, he could do this. He could get out of bed.

I can force a laugh.

All he had to do was stand up. Just stand up.

I can dance and play the part…

Why couldn’t he get out of bed?

If that’s what you ask.

“Dewey?” he heard you call. You must have been in the living room. He had noticed you were gone when he first woke up, and you had closed the door behind you. There was cold sunlight shining in the crack underneath the bedroom door. He wanted to snuff it out. “Honey, are you awake?”

For a split second, Dewey considered letting you think he was asleep. But a quick glance at his alarm clock told him that would be even worse. It was already 1:00PM.

“Yeah, I…” Dewey sat up in bed. “I’ll be right out.”

His stomach dropped when, rather than waiting for him, you walked into the room. You were wearing your PJ shorts and one of his t shirts, and your steps fell quietly on the faux hardwood floor.

“Hey,” Dewey rasped, and cleared his throat. You sat beside him on the bed, trapping him between yourself and the wall. Dewey’s stomach, already low in his gut, twisted when he saw the concern on your face.

I can do it.

“What’s going on?” you asked softly.

I can do it.

“What do you mean?”

I can do it…

“You haven’t been drinking as much, you’re on a normal schedule now, and you’ve got shit to catch up on.” Despite your words, your voice was gentle. Why did you have to be so gentle? “How come you’ve been sleeping so much the last month?”

Oh. So you had noticed.

You poked his hand where it rested close to your thigh. “What’s going on?”

Dewey looked away from you then, turning his gaze down to focus on nothing in particular. “I don’t know.”

You said nothing, but waited. He knew he couldn’t outlast this silence – you had the patience of a St. Bernard with a chew toy, you would sit there as long as it took for him to crack. So, Dewey tried a different tack.

“How are you doing?” he asked. “I know you’ve been going through a lot.”

You tilted your head, still watching him. “I’m doing well, Dr. Finn.” You smiled softly. “And you’ve been amazing the last few weeks. Now let me worry about you.” Dewey watched as you tapped a short rhythm on the palm of his hand with two of your fingers. “What’s going on?”

Even hours later, Dewey wouldn’t know what it was about the question that got to him. It might have been the way you asked, with your absurdly gentle voice and your impossibly serene expression, as if at that moment, he was the only thing in the world you cared about.

But I’m only human.

He broke down.

Before he knew what was happening, you had moved closer and Dewey was cradled in your arms. He cried into your collarbone, harder than he had cried in years. Your hand was so warm and steady on his back, your arms so strong and so supportive, that he couldn’t force himself to stop. He was dimly aware that he was choking out apologies, and that you were shushing him in that infuriatingly patient way you had.

I can turn it on…

And then he was shaking his head and pulling away and wiping at his eyes with frustrated hands.

Be a good machine…

“No, I mean…” Dewey paused to breathe, and you waited.

I can hold the weight of worlds if that’s what you need.

“You don’t need this right now, you’re already dealing with a lot, and I shouldn’t be–”

“Stop.”

Abruptly, Dewey wasn’t crying anymore. He stared at your face – still serene but with something bright and fierce behind your eyes.

“You don’t apologize to me, not for this.”

Be your everything.

Dewey sniffled. “But–”

“No.” The tears returned, and you took his hands.

How could you be so understanding about this? It had to be so tiresome for you, to be dealing with all this bullshit from the one person in your life who was supposed to be stable.

“Listen to me.” You paused, and Dewey reluctantly looked up at you. “You’re allowed to have feelings. You’re a human person, and you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. Okay? Between me and your students and living alone for the first time…ever.” You shook your head, and got that little crease between your eyes. The one you got when you were thinking about how amazing he was. Did you…?

I can take so much…

Dewey said your name and it came out as a whimper, but for once, that didn’t bother him much. You squeezed his hands.

‘Til I’ve had enough.

“I’m really proud of you, love, but I’m gonna need you to take care of yourself too.”

Dewey sniffled again and leaned forward. You met him halfway and leaned your forehead against his. You stayed that way for a few moments. When the tears became too much again, though, Dewey had to move to lean his head into the crook of your neck instead. You wrapped your arms around him again, and this time he found he didn’t mind.

‘Cause I’m only human.

.

.

please reblog if you are so moved, it really helps content creators

tags list: @skiddyyo @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

if you would like to get on the tags list, shoot me a message or an ask

[topshelfcityelf]

First attempt with my new digital art setup. Decided to doodle my bestie @skiddyyo ‘s OC Talea because she’s an absolute babe.

[swan-lite]

oooooh thank you for tagging me!

i tag @my-name-is-ash-ketchup @skiddyyo @pastelnacht and anyone else who wants to do this

mmmmm lets be spooky together

Tagging: @gravityflops @masterofswag213 @undertheknightwing @fishybehavior @zebra-all-the-time @elementalmasteroffakephysics @anxiousworm and everyone else who wants to!!

[elitespacefreak]

For the character thing: Gretchen! ❤

MY GIRL. YES. BLESS YOU FOR ASKING.

•favorite thing about themI love that she’s not conventionally pretty. Even though they’re middle schoolers, Jessica and her friends are pretty, but Gretchen is the awkward romantic and honestly I can relate.

•least favorite thing about themThat she doesn’t get much screen time. It’s middle school, there’s drama, I would’ve loved to see some of that. Like she somehow gets Dib to go with her to a school dance but she’s heartbroken when Zim ruins the whole night for her because Dib runs off to go save the world. I wanted more story with her in it.

•favorite lineHonestly I can so clearly hear her in the lice episode where the countess has her by the arm and she whines “can I go now???” Like there was so much sass and I was oddly proud of her for that?

•brOTPOkay hear me out. I love her and Zim getting real close because of their relationships with Dib. They both care about him and I think he could act as a catalyst for their friendship. Gretchen absolutely helps Zim acclimate to Earth and keep up with his demographic. Zim helps her win over Dib’s heart. They are Squad Goals™️.

•OTPI’m a shameless DibxGretchen shipper. They are my favorite power couple, they just would age so well together.

•nOTPUuuuuhhhhhhhh…. anyone who’s not Dib?? I guess?

•random headcanonShe won’t go to college on Professor Membrane’s money so she becomes the classiest stripper ever and pays her own way through college. Dib is very proud and supportive.

•unpopular opinionI don’t think she’s annoying, I think she is an accurately portrayed hopeless romantic for her age.

•song i associate with themRich Boy by Galantis. You know Dib would want to spoil her but she’d just want to go out and spend time with him.

•favorite picture of themMy phone won’t let me copy and paste one here but in the tale of bitters comic issue there’s a pic of her lookin real menacing saying “oh I’ll tell u how” and it’s really cute to me~

[agenttexsflippedshit]

❤

you are sweet and patient and kind and way too funny and amazing at video games and i wish we could play together more often because i totally miss u o3o

[swan--writes]

Are you still doing the Dewey fanfictions based off of songs? If so, could you do "Your Song" by Elton John please?

Listen, I love Elton John. I really do. That said I did have to listen to the Lady Gaga cover to get in the zone. I’m really glad you requested this song though, this was fun to write!

Warnings: none

Words: 990

You had never done this before. You’d never done anything like this. You didn’t confess your feelings, you waited for people to notice them, and if they didn’t, well, it was probably for the best. You certainly didn’t make grand gestures. This was so far outside of your comfort zone, you might as well have been in another country.

It’s a little bit funny…

But Dewey was worth it.

This feeling inside.

And you knew there was no way he would ever confess to you. At this point, you’d known him long enough to know that. You were about 85% sure he felt about you the way you felt for him, give or take a few percentage points.

There was, of course, the nagging 15% telling you to go home, change out of your fancy clothes, and go back to lounging on the couch eating a personal pot of mac and cheese like you normally did on Friday nights. But here you were, at your work’s annual gala all dressed up, with Dewey on your arm.

You felt like you were going to vomit. But it had to be done.

Your boss was up in front of the piano giving a speech. Your inner monologue was trying to be nice – it really was – but why was he taking so damn long?

“…and with that, one of our best managers wants to come up here and show off a little.” He called out your name and extended an arm.

Damn, couldn’t he have taken a little longer?

Of course, you smiled, and you glanced over at Dewey, who seemed to have forgotten how uncomfortable he was in his tux for the moment and was instead looking – slightly bewildered – at you, and you almost lost your nerve.

I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.

Your boss’s hand didn’t drop. You walked up to him and stepped onto the platform. He handed you the microphone and you set it into place, attached to the piano at the center of the hall.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself. Then, “Alright,” for good measure. Then you took a deep breath, then nodded at your audience because it seemed the thing to do. You tried not to look at Dewey’s face. “I wanted to do something special for my plus one, who’s missing his students’ band practice to be here. A grand gesture.”

My gift is my song, and this one’s for you.

Feelings were one thing, but you had been playing piano for as long as you could remember. This was like breathing to you. This, you could do.

You pressed down on the first three keys, and exhaled slowly.

The first verse was slow. Your eyes never strayed from the piano; the keys, the mic, the lid. It was a baby grand, and you couldn’t be more grateful for that. It must have been recently tuned too, the sound was extraordinary. You had been afraid you would have to try to stop thinking, but this was almost easy.

Dewey’s face was in your mind, but when wasn’t it these days?

Now you can tell everybody this is your song.

You had met at the grocery store, of all places. You had both reached for the last bag of pre-popped popcorn. He had insisted on playing rock-paper-scissors for it, and also insisted on cheating.

It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done…

Somehow, he had convinced you to buy him a coffee in exchange for the bag. Coffee had taken well over an hour, and you wound up splitting the bag anyway. He had become a quick friend.

I hope you don’t mind…

His whole child band, Roadhouse, basement-dweller…thing had been a bit off-putting to you at first, but you supposed that was a fair trade off. Your high-end corporate lifestyle was a bit much to him, even after you had gotten used to his lifestyle.

I hope you don’t mind that I put down in the words…

But the one place you could always connect was music. To Dewey, that was everything. And, after a few months of Chinese food nights, movies, lunch outings when he dragged you away from work, and crashing at his new apartment only to wake up to him quietly strumming his guitar in the next room, Dewey had somehow become everything to you.

How wonderful life is while you’re in the world.

Dewey was the softest, kindest, most fricking supportive person you had ever known and, God, you were crazy about him. There was, however, only one way you knew how to even begin to try to tell him that, and this was it.

“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do…you see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue.” You had thought about changing a word, but for all the time you had spent trying not to gaze lovingly into Dewey’s eyes, nothing was worth changing Elton John’s lyrics. “Anyway the thing is, what I really mean: yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen!”

You knew you were an expressive singer, and you hadn’t been able to get Lady Gaga’s Grammy performance out of your head anyway. Half of your coworkers were probably judging you. You didn’t care yet. After you were done? 50/50 chance you would.

“I hope you don’t mind--I hope you don’t mind that I put down in the words…” You took a breath. You had to. There were tears in your eyes.

Almost by accident you looked at the crowd, and your gaze landed right on Dewey. He was staring at you with an openness that almost stole the breath you had just taken. He was soft, and he was steady, and you knew--you knew how he felt. What were you supposed to do with that?

So you exhaled through your nose and finished the song. That, you could do. “How wonderful life is while you’re in…the world.”

Outro. Mandatory applause. Dewey making an incredibly loud ass of himself. You smiled at the keys, then stood and swept away from the piano. Dewey was making his way through the crowd about as gracefully as you would expect.

You did try to speak – you really did. You opened your mouth and everything. Before you could say a word, however, Dewey’s lips were on yours.

Well. This, you could do.

.

.

please reblog, my engagement is down and it’s really helpful for content creators

Tags list: @skiddyyo @geeky-marie @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

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[bubbliciousfearless]

Happy birthday, beautiful!

Aww, thank you so much, lovely~!

[raphaelhatesbugs]

skiddyyo replied to your photo “This show just keeps getting stranger.”

This looks like it could be someone's fetish fanart

YOU HAD TO GO THERE

[agenttexsflippedshit]

skiddyyo replied to your post: me, sitting straight up in bed: B̶̳̝͓̓̀...

Happy birthday!!!!!! ilu

thank u!!! i love u too!!!!