#very happy with progress on drawing eyes this year :)

[cata-strophes]

a bit late but!! here is my 2022 summary :} its all mcyt again :)

thank you all so much for hanging out this 2022 and chilling with me even when i went through severe art block and didnt post anything in weeks ahahhaha (*cough november cough*) so anyways!! thank you all so much again, i hope you stick around another year, i love you all a lot <3

this year i drew some things im very proud of !! i tried to get out of my comfort zone with some stuff and i just. i dont know, im very happy with them

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc short idea

Jason is Danny’s dad

Warning: Language

Jason had just returned to the family publicly about two weeks ago. It hadn’t even been that long for him to settle before something happened. The press weren’t even off his ass and he has Alfred requesting he return home for an urgent matter immediately, which is butler speak for get your ass here right now!

The family was happy but adjusting to everything. They had mandatory family dinners at least twice a month and voluntarily got together more frequently, mostly just the siblings, but every once in a while Bruce would sneak in for a movie in the family room.

Alfred was pleased with the progress the family has made over the course of many years. It finally felt like everything was coming together and maybe settling down. He knew he thought that too soon when he answered the buzzer at the front gate. They weren’t expecting any visitors and looking at the video feed it was a young woman with hands on her hips glaring back at the camera. There were two large bags with her and surprisingly enough a young child playing in the grass just a short distance behind her.

“Wayne Residence, Alfred Pennyworth speaking, how may I assist you, ma’am?”

“Lettin’ me in for starters,” she says back with venom on her tongue.

“My apologies, but you do not have an appointment.”

She snorts, “Nah, but ya see, I saw that bastard on the news and thought I’d drop off what he gave me.”

To get her point across, she turns and looks back at the little boy not paying her any attention.

“Danny!” She snaps and he jerks his head to look at, who Alfred is assuming is, his mother. “Come here.”

He hops up at his own pace and dusts off the grass on his knees before trotting over. She leans down to angle the young boy away from the camera and pushing back his hair.

He couldn’t see it well before by the way the boy was positioned before, but Alfred could clearly see a prominent patch of white hair on the left lower section by his neck. Just like the white batch on Jason.

“You gonna let us in now?” She asks rudely.

Alfred has already determined he did not like this woman. He still buzzes them in. He contacts Jason immediately followed closely with Bruce.

Alfred then helps the two carry in the bags, while subtly checking for any weapons or explosives. Instead he finds things meant for a child.

He really didn’t like this woman.

Bruce is the first one to arrive down the stairs, pausing towards the bottom. He glances at Alfred and can see the displeasure in the butler’s eyes.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you.”

“Fuckin’ everyone knows who you are, Brucie Wayne,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.

Bruce glances down at the very young child who is hearing the foul language. He couldn’t be more than five, and completely oblivious as the little boy runs a hand along the wall and looks around at everything. He particularly keeps going back to the shiny chandelier above their heads.

“Who might you be?” He asks the woman, coming back to her as she almost touches the vase on the entry table. She draws her hand back to fold her arms across her chest.

“Grace.”

The name seems ironic compared to her behavior.

“And how can I help you, Miss Grace?”

“Your thought-to-be-dead son left something of his. I’m here to return it.”

It took no detective to determine she was talking about the boy currently using the door frame to the sitting room as leverage to rock back and forth, holding on with his tiny hands. Bruce could see the splash of white among the dark hair from this angle.

Bruce hums.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve already contacted Master Jason. He should be arriving soon. Shall I prepare some refreshments in the drawing room?” Alfred informs.

“Thank you, Alfred. Right this way,” he says to Grace, directing her toward the left while pulling out his phone to ask Tim to prepare the proper equipment downstairs.

“Danny!” The woman calls with impatience. She glares at the little boy who calmly turns to look at her, then skips behind them.

Grace huffs but doesn’t say anything else as they enter the room. She sits herself in the middle of the love seat and Bruce takes one of the chairs across from her. The boy, Danny, explores the room thoroughly, walking around without pattern and investigating every nook and cabinet to keep himself entertained. Very curious little child.

Bruce tries to engage her in conversation to dig up more information, but she firmly wanted to wait for Jason before divulging anything. He did however find out that Danny is four and needs to be enrolled in kindergarten next turn. Grace works night shift but wouldn’t say where.

Alfred came with three waters, one in a smaller plastic cup for Danny, and a plate of crackers and cut up fruit.

Grace eyes the butler with a raised brow. However, the first words Danny has spoken in their presence is a cute, “Thank you, mister,” before munching on a cracker and sipping from his cup. His curious eyes flick over the fruit and wanders over to his mother who picks at a rip in her jeans. He taps her knee and she sighs.

“What is it?”

“What’s that?”

Danny points to the fruit.

“What’s what?”

He creeps forward to point directly at the blackberries mixed in with the blueberries and strawberries.

“Blackberry,” she answers shortly.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

He must have approved of that suggestion and reaches in to clumsily wrap a tiny hand around one of the dark berries. He flips it over in his hand for a minute, observing it at all angles, feeling the texture of the little bumps, before shoving it in his mouth. Danny leans his body over the coffee table to drag the bowl closer and rummage through it for more goodies.

Really looking at him, Bruce could see Jason’s freckles and the few other similarities like his square jaw and lip shape. He hasn’t seen it yet but Bruce bets Danny has the same crooked grin as his son.

He has the woman’s pale complexion and nose shape. His hair was straight like hers instead of Jason’s curls, but Danny took his dark coloring compared to her light brunette.

The boy was an adorable mix of both his son and this woman. He almost felt the test was unnecessary, but he didn’t stop Alfred from replacing the plastic cup and take it back to the kitchen where he knew it would be handed off to Tim.

Thankfully it was a day where there weren’t any meetings for either of them to attend.

Surprisingly, it isn’t Jason that enters the room first, it’s Damian coming home from school. The fourteen year old, almost fifteen, holds a leash in one hand with Titus standing patiently next to him, ready for his after school walk.

“Father, I heard we have guests.”

The teen stops in the doorway and Danny turns with interest until he spots the animal, then his eyes bug with excitement.

“Mommy, doggie,” he whisper shouts.

She just hums in affirmative, looking the new arrival up and down.

Danny grabs a blackberry from the bowl and trots over to Damian. He holds out the piece of fruit.

“This is a blackberry,” he states proudly.

Damian blinks down at the small child. Titus tilts his head, his nose working hard.

“I’m aware.”

“You can have it, if you let me pet your doggie,” he negotiates like he needed to give something in order to receive permission.

Damian looks up to his father for answers.

“Jason will be here soon,” is what he gets instead, his father’s lips twitch.

Damian looks back down in sudden realization when he sees the similarities between the man and this boy. He sighs tiredly.

“Pennyworth. A wet washcloth if you please.”

“Right away, Master Damian.”

“Next time, you only need to ask to pet Titus, you do not need to give me anything in return,” he tells the child.

Danny looks down at the berry sitting in his stained hands.

“So you don’t want it?”

“…Maybe later.”

“Okay!”

Danny skips back to carefully set the berry off the side on the tray, as if to save it for Damian for later like he said. He jogs the short distance back to them.

“Can I pet your doggie now, please?”

Damian takes the washcloth Alfred hands him with a nod and crouches down to get level with the boy.

“We must wipe our hands first. We don’t want anything sticky in his fur,” he explains as he holds out the washcloth for Danny’s hands.

The four year old looks down at the stains to see what he means and then places his hands on the washcloth for Damian to get the juices off.

The teen then calmly explains how to properly approach a dog he does not know by letting Titus smell the back of his hand first and then to always stay calm and confident.

Titus, the gentle giant that he is, had no problems letting the tiny child pat him and run small fingers through his short fur. It was endearing to hear the giggles when Titus used his big nose to sniff at the child’s face and neck. Sitting down, Titus was taller than the child standing up, which would have been scary to some kids, but Danny seemed to love Titus instantly. The little boy easily telling the dog what a good boy he is even with the dog sitting there doing nothing.

“Titus needs his afternoon walk now,” Damian informs.

Titus stands at the word walk, clearly ready to go.

“Oh, okay.” Danny turns to the big dog to reach up and pat his head twice. “Bye-bye, Titus. Have a good walk.”

The two leave and Danny skips back over to hang over the arm of the love seat his mother sits in, typing on her phone.

“Mommy, did you see the doggie? His name is Titus. He’s a good dog.”

“Uh-huh,” she comments without really listening.

“Do you like dogs, Danny?” Bruce asks with a smile.

Danny looks at him like he forgot the man was there, tilts his head as he studies him for a moment. Bruce waits patiently until Danny deems him okay and perks back up with bright eyes.

“Uh-huh! I love dogs! Mommy says we can’t get one ‘cuz our ‘partment is too small and they’re dirty. You’s guys are lucky,” the boy rambles as he wanders around the coffee table to get closer to Bruce and away from his distracted mother.

“How do you feel about cats? Damian has a black and white one around here somewhere.”

Danny shrugs and they continue to have a rather pleasant conversation about different animals and foods and each of their houses. It takes up the amount of time for Jason to walk through the door, seemingly already informed of the situation from Alfred.

Jason was… flabbergasted. Bewildered. Caught unprepared. He was a lot of words. Mostly he was scared.

Did he really have a child? A son? If that was true then he missed so much. He missed all of his firsts. First words, first steps, first laugh, first everything.

Would the boy even like him? What if he saw all his scars and was scared of him? What if he didn’t want anything to do with Jason after not being in his life this whole time?

But the boy might not be his. There’s that. That could be… Jason didn’t like the disappointment that thought brought.

Grace was the first one he noticed. Her ripped jeans and low cut top being out of place among the antique furniture and Persian rug. She scowls at him, putting her phone down.

“Finally decided to show up?”

He bites back a comment. He broke several traffic laws to get here, it wasn’t his fault he was fourty minutes away at the time he got the call.

He glances over at Bruce and instead his eyes zero in on the child standing by the armchair Bruce was sitting in.

Just one look and he knew the boy was his.

He looks to Bruce anyway for confirmation, since he has no doubt he sent off a sample to Tim hiding like the troll he is in the basement. The man nods. Jason sucks in a deep breath and suddenly needs to sit down.

He sinks heavily in the matching armchair next to Bruce’s, separated only by a round end table. Jason can’t stop staring at those big, blue eyes that are filled with such curiosity and innocence he almost breaks down right then. But he can’t. He has to be strong. He can’t just walk away to get a handle on his emotions. He’s a dad now.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Grace folds her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been busy,” he answers lamely.

She humphs and looks away with a shake of her head.

The boy, Danny Alfred said his name was, creeps around Bruce’s legs to get closer, obviously seeing something in Jason enough to investigate. The room is quiet as they wait to see how Danny will react.

Coming to a stop right before his knees, Danny stares up at the large man with lots of scars and muscles from what he can see. He wasn’t scared. There was just something familiar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He looks… he looks like… and he also feels almost like…

Furrowing his brows in a pout, he knows his Mommy doesn’t like it when he does it, but he still makes his eyes burn with green.

The man gasps and his eyes also swirl into an angry green.

“Daddy?” Danny asks with hope and joy.

Daddy swallows and then nods.

“Yea, buddy, I’m your dad.”

“Daddy!” The boy cheers, jumping in place with a wide smile. “Daddy! Mommy, look! It’s Daddy!”

Danny wastes no time climbing into the man’s lap and wrapping his arms around him as far as they’ll go (not very far) to press his ear to Jason’s chest over his heart. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and Jason makes sure to set a large hand on his back to hold him close.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Grace hisses, her eyes wide at the display earlier. Both of their eyes had returned to their calmer blue and teal color, but everyone in the room saw it. “I knew he got it from you.”

His eyes narrow in warning, pulling the boy closer to his chest. He sets a hand over Danny’s exposed ear to protect him from the harsh words he’s probably already heard before.

“Do you have any idea how creepy it is to deal with a tantrum when your kid has fucking glowing green eyes?”

“Did you hit him?” Jason growls, the vibrations seeming to settle Danny even more.

“Please, I’m not my mother,” she dismisses with a sneer.

Could have fooled him.

“Everything was fine until he started doing freaky shit. I don’t know how to raise a meta kid, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

Now he was just confused. What stuff was Danny doing that Grace thought he was a meta?

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t have powers too,” she points viciously.

“I’m not pretending. I don’t have powers. I don’t have the meta gene. What can he do?” He demands while being transparently clear.

She just glares back at him, obviously not believing him. That didn’t exactly matter at the moment.

“What can he do?” He repeats with emphasis.

She puckers her lips like she’s tasted something sour and then lifts her chin.

“Why doesn’t he just show you, huh? Danny- Would you stop babying him? Danny, show him the things you can do.”

After Jason takes the hand off the boy’s head, Danny turns to his mother warily.

“But you don’t like it,” he reminds, like she forgot.

“He wants to see it, so show him,” she waves a hand at Jason like he just asked for something he would regret.

Danny leans back to look up at his dad.

“You won’t get mad? Or scared?”

He sounds so unsure and scared. As if Jason could ever hate him. Jason really wants to punch something. Preferably something with her face on it.

“I promise I won’t.”

Another parent might have something more profound to say to reassure their child, but Jason was just starting out and honestly, it was more than Bruce would ever say.

Danny thinks for a second before wiggling to get down. He looks back once more at his mother who gives him a ‘get on with it’ motion.

The boy fidgets a little before covering his face with two hands like he’s playing hide and seek, then- disappears. Jason jerks at watching his son blink out of sight like a Martian.

“Boo!” Danny pops back into view, exactly where he was standing before with his hands out like any child on Halloween.

Jason blinks and then starts laughing. This was karma. Danny could literally become invisible, something the Bats train to do for years.

“That was good, buddy,” Jason chuckles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Danny hesitantly smiles back, a bit of hope and pride in those eyes.

“There’s more,” Grace interrupts, seemingly uneasy with how well Jason reacted.

“Yea?” Jason directs to Danny, his focus on his son.

Danny gives a shaky nod, glancing over worriedly at Bruce who is just silently watching. Jason could see the tension in his shoulders but also the intrigue.

The boy places a hand on the coffee table and focuses on his hand. It took a few minutes of concentration before Danny’s hand went through the table like he was just dunking his hand in a pool instead of through a solid object.

He pulls his hand out and they could see it be slightly translucent.

“That one’s harder to do when I want to,” Danny mumbles.

“You mean it mostly happens on accident?”

Danny nods.

“I drop a lot. And get stuck sometimes.”

Yea, Jason can see how that could be a problem. He can’t imagine how terrified Danny was the first time a body part got stuck in an immovable object. He really wishes he could have been there for him in his panic.

“The last thing is hard too. But I’ve been practicing. Watch!”

Danny jumps once, twice, and on the third time he lingers in the air, coming down slowly like someone in water or astronauts on the moon. Danny pushes off the ground a fourth time, this time floating steadily higher like gravity meant nothing to him.

Despite the kid obviously have done this before and enjoying it with his giggles, Jason stands under him in case he falls. And falls he does. Suddenly, like the strings being cut and gravity taking hold of him again, Danny plummets into Jason waiting arms. The boy grunts on impact and then smiled sheepishly up at his dad.

“Sorry, Daddy. I promise I’m doing better.”

“That’s okay, squirt. I’m glad I was here to catch you.”

Jason plops back into the chair with his child in his lap.

“Anything else up that sleeve of yours?” He teases but is equally as serious.

Danny shakes his head enough to make his hair fluff. Jason looks to Grace for confirmation and sees she is still recovering from Danny’s fall out of the air. How many times has she had to catch him? Or wasn’t able to catch him?

She clears her throat.

“I don’t know if it’s part of it, but he never gets sick. Never even had a cough.”

Children always get sick, that’s how they build immune systems. For Danny to have never gotten even a cold, Jason doesn’t know if it’s worrying or a good thing.

“Any allergies?” Is the first thing on his mind, thinking of what Alfred will need to know.

She shakes her head with a negative hum.

“In one of the bags is a folder with all of his documents. Birth certificate, immunizations, doctor visits. I also made a list of some favorite things and things he hates. It has foods on there too.”

That was… honestly more than he was expecting from her. But it also cements the fact that she intended to drop him off with him and then never see them again. She raised him for four years and she doesn’t even want visitation? Does she not understand there are legal documents she needs to sign to transfer custody properly?

“There are some things you need to sign, but it will take some time to get it sorted,” Bruce chimes in all business.

Long nails swipe through the air like signing her rights away was trivial.

“My phone number and address are on one of the documents. Just tell me when and where.”

She stands to leave and Jason can feel Danny tense up.

“Are we leaving?” He asks worriedly, climbing down from his seat on his dad’s lap. He didn’t want to go.

“You’re staying here. With your dad,” Grace says shortly, not once looking at the boy.

“Are you going home to get the rest of our stuff?”

“No. I’m going home. You’re staying here. End of story.”

Danny visibly thinks on that for a second then scampers after his mother as she leaves the room.

“Is it like Robbie where his mom lives in one ‘partment and his dad lives in a different one?”

Grace sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She’s clearly flustered and is showing it as irritation, but Jason can’t help but trail behind in case she says something that she shouldn’t.

“No, Danny, it’s not like Robbie. I- I am leaving you here and I’m not coming back, okay?”

Jason takes a step forward to draw her attention and send her a look that says ‘choose your words carefully, this is a conversation he will remember for a long time’.

“But- but why? Is it ‘cuz of my things? I’m sorry I scared you, Mommy. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do them again, promise.”

Jason grits his teeth at how desperate his son sounds, trying to keep his mother with him. Even making a promise he can’t keep.

Grace finally looks at her baby. Sees the turmoil and tears in his baby blue eyes. She gets down on her knees to get level and places her hands on his tiny shoulders.

“You will do them again and that’s not a bad thing. Your things are part of you. That’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. I just- I’m in over my head here, Danny. I can’t take care of you the way you should be taken care of, okay? But your dad can, I hope. So I’m leaving you here. With him.”

Danny’s lip wobbles and she has to restrain herself from not hugging him like she always does when he’s upset.

“Then- then you’ll visit, right? Like Chase’s grandma visits him?”

Why is this so hard?

“I don’t think so, baby. I don’t think you’re gonna see me again. I’m sorry.”

Danny is silent for a while. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.

“Are you goin’ ‘way like Jamal’s dad?”

The ten year old in the same building as them lost his dad in a wrong place wrong time type situation. Jamal had told Danny his dad went away forever so he couldn’t see him again. Grace had told him that when people go away forever, they get put among the stars he loves so much to be remembered.

Grace wears such a pained expression Jason half thought she was about to burst into tears.

“Kinda,” she nods. “So give me a big hug, okay?”

Danny was in her arms before she finished speaking. Jason didn’t exactly know why she wanted to stop all contact, but he had a theory that if Danny really was a meta (and with his powers he was leaning toward believing it) then Grace would want to distance herself as much as possible to protect them both. He met her in Crime Alley, he knew they didn’t live in a good spot. If any one of those crooks saw Danny use any of his powers, they could steal him easily from his single mother. She didn’t want to give those kind of people leverage to get Danny and sell him off. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, she was just trying to do what was best for her kid, even if that meant cutting her out of his life.

He had a strange new respect for her he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Grace takes a heavy breath and pulls away showing Danny’s tear stained cheeks. She wipes them like it would do anything.

“I gotta go now, Danny.”

“No,” he cries and Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

“We gotta say goodbye now. Please.”

Grace is just barely hanging on. Jason knows as soon as she walks out that door she’ll break down.

“I don’t want to. Don’t want you to leave,” Danny whines, trying to keep a strong grip on his mother.

She holds his hands in hers and gives him a serious look.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna be just fine with your dad.” She leans in and whispers, “You’re not alone, Danny. You are never alone. Just look up. Look at the stars, baby, and you’ll be okay.”

Danny pouts, but thinks about those words.

“I like the stars,” he mumbles.

She smiles, probably the first one in a while.

“I know you do.”

She kisses his forehead one last time and stands. Danny whines. She steps away.

“Bye-bye, Danny. I- I love you.”

“Mommy,” he cries, tears and snot coming full force now.

Jason can’t take anymore and picks up his son to hold on his hip.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” he assures. He turns to Grace who is having the internal battle of her life in the foyer. “I got him.”

It’s an assurance to her too, that he will take care of Danny, that he would be there for him. It was a promise.

Grace sees it for what it is and leaves out the front door without another word.

Danny screams and cries and struggles, but Jason holds on tight, scared he’ll fall or use his powers to get away and disappear. The man walks back to the drawing room so his son wasn’t staring at the door longingly.

As soon as Jason sits down, Danny struggles harder since they stopped moving. So Jason stands again, adjusting the boy in his arms and starts pacing a path around the room.

Bruce has already disappeared, not knowing what to do with a heartbroken child crying his eyes out. Alfred has cleared away the tray of snacks, leaving two waters on the table, one in a small, plastic cup. Jason spies Damian poke his head in for a second to see what the matter was, and upon seeing no immediate threat went off wherever. Other than that, father and son were alone to figure themselves out.

Danny was going through a lot for a toddler and Jason didn’t exactly know how to handle what happened either. He tried his best with speaking reassurances into the boy’s hair, but he didn’t know if Danny even heard him over his own crying.

It was a rough first meeting to be frank, but after a while (what felt like ages) Danny cried himself to sleep and Jason felt it safe to finally sprawl out on the loveseat with the boy laying on his chest. Compared to a grueling patrol, that was definitely worse. He never wanted to have to go through that again, but knew as a dad it was part of the job description.

[pipthegreat]

Info Cards‼️

These took a while to make but I fairly like how they turned out. These are all ordered from the oldest to newest member of Digital Fun Park!

Welcome to Digital Fun Park, a canceled VR horror game that was brought back to life.

When the company gave up on an in-progress horror game, it was left to fade away. But a virus inside of it came to life and couldn't stand being lonely anymore, so it brought people to its digital world.

Poster:

How abstraction works:

The Adventures:

The Solar Eclipse:

First designs + lineup:

I'll edit this post when I make "important" things about the au, also please ask me questions because I absolutely love this au!!

-----------------------------------------------

Comics:

* Jax's hatred

* What could happen

* First introduction

* Gangle's comics

* A silly mistake

* The Mask

* Bonding

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Info:

* Tadc / dfp

* Missing parts

* Outside the park

* Bubble

* Rest

* Abstracted

* Gloink Queen

* Fear of the park

* Defense

* Closed eye

* Jax.

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"Can I make fanart?":

Of course you can! I don't mind at all and it makes me extremely happy!

"Is there any ships?":

There are no cannon ships in this au but if you want to ship the characters you can totally go for it! Self shipping is also welcome! As long as it doesn't involve minor x adult though.

"Can I make NSFW?":

You do you, just don't send it to me alright? ^^

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity) Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

Chapter One: A Lesson In Kissing

warnings: kissing, exploring sexually, fluff, mentions of IRL creative licenses/pop culture references pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: after a few weeks of getting to know the shy and stoic Nanami Kento, you invite him over to your dorm to watch some anime. as things progress, you realize that you have taken his kissing virginity...

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @benkeibear @kenpachisbrat. @gennaray

MDNI banner and Support your writers banner by the lovely benkeibear!!!

Masterlist

Classes had begun fairly well and you were getting into the full swing of things. Moving to a different city and going to a prestigious university hadn’t been your initial plan, but when you won the bursary and the scholarship, you found yourself unable to say no. Your parents had encouraged you to go, praising you for your high grades and your charismatic nature. So with that in mind, you had been very excited about the prospect.

You had worked in a bank a little bit during your last year of high school. And it completely changed your mindset about money. You decided not long after that that you were going to study to become a financial advisor. You wanted to be able to help people with their money. You wanted them to see that they could make good, fiscal plans with their assets.

And taking classes in business and finance could open a lot of doors for you. Even if the financial advisor job fell through, you could make your way into a job in stocks. Anything in the financial and business field would make you happy.

This is where you met Nanami Kento. He’s shy, sullen and stoic. He hides in the back of your shared classes. You swear he’s not paying attention whatsoever, but he’s acing the tests and the quizzes. He’s at the top of the class, no matter the subject. He’s got his nose buried in a book or his notebook most of the time.

It was his amber eyes that drew you in. Most of the time you only got to see one as he covers the other with his bangs. He rarely smiles, which also draws you in. Everyone else is dressed in business attire, whereas Kento wears business casual. And he’s very heavy on the casual side of things.

But due to his academic successes and good grades, nobody is batting an eyelash at him. Seemingly you might be the only person in these classes that is even remotely interested in him. One thing that really caught your eye was his collection of pins on his jacket.

You approach him one day after class, and he shoots you a confused look. Everyone is leaving the classroom, but you wanted to get to know him more. You wanted to approach him. And the minute you do, you notice not only does he have a look of confusion on his face, but he’s also blushing.

“You’re Nanami-san, yes?” You inquire, even if you know the answer.

He pulls his bag over his shoulder, “Y-yes. That’s me.”

You introduce yourself and extend your hand out to him, “Nice to meet you. I really like your pin.”

When he doesn’t shake your hand, you point at the cute little GIR pin on his lapel. Not many people you know have watched Invader Zim. He sort of looks at you in shock for a minute before turning away. 

“Thanks, see ya.”

And you don’t approach him for another few weeks after that first encounter. You wonder if he’s just shy or if he’s abrasive. He seems so cute in your eyes. So you push yourself to make an effort to talk to him more.

The second time, you invite him out to lunch. He doesn’t outright say yes, but he also doesn’t say no. He begins to follow you to the cafe just outside of the campus. You both order a coffee and sit in silence for a little bit.

“How’d you find the test?” You ask him, taking a sip of your coffee.

He shrugs, “It was fine.”

“You must be very smart. You’re at the top of our class.”

He blushes and shrugs once more, “I don’t know. It’s just not too hard for me.”

The conversation dies down before you head over to the counter and order two sandwiches. Then you return with the two plates and Kento is confused. It’s been a long time since anyone has bought him lunch. He’s really not sure why someone as beautiful as you would even bother with him.

“Do you like the band The Used?”

Kento’s eyes widen, “Y-yeah! You like The Used?”

You nod. “Love ‘em! They are so awesome.”

This begins an acquaintanceship between you and Kento. You spend the lunch hour chatting about your favorite bands, your favorite manga and anime and of course, your favorite tv shows. You both discover very quickly that you have so much in common.

By the time lunch hour is over, you’re both upset that you’ll have to end the conversation. You see Kento in a whole new light, and him…he realizes that there are still some good people in this world.

The next time you two meet, you invite him to your dorm room. He’s never been invited to someone’s dorm since he enrolled, so he’s a little nervous about it. Not to mention the fact that he thinks he’s developing a crush on you. This coupled with the fact that he’s entirely a virgin scares him. Nevertheless, he makes his way to your dorm and knocks on the door. In his other hand is a bag of snacks and drinks to share with you.

“Kento-kun! Nice to see you! Come in,” you greet him in such a sunny way. Your demeanor was beginning to remind him of someone from his past.

He smiles shyly, “Thanks.”

He makes his way into your little space. Despite it being small, you’ve managed to make it feel so nice and cozy. It’s well decorated with band posters, comfy furniture and even a little kitchenette area. He’s surprised that you could make such a small place look so much like a home.

“Sit down,” you motion to the couch. “I’ll get us some cups.”

You return to the living room area of the room and join him on the couch. On your little TV, you have some old anime playing. Kento is immediately sucked in. You find the drinks in his bag and pour the drinks. Your fingers brush against his when you pass him the cup. He shudders from the sudden contact, hiding it by returning his attention to the TV.

“You like this?” You gesture to the TV.

He nods, “Yeah, this is Ninja Scroll, right?”

“Yeah! I didn’t think anyone was still interested in this sort of stuff.”

You and Kento begin a conversation about anime and the movie that’s playing. You both can’t stop talking to each other. It’s just like the conversation continues to flow so naturally between the two of you. The more you conversed., the more you found yourself liking him. He’s cute, knowledgeable and not like a lot of the other guys you’ve met.

As the conversation dies down, both of you sit in a comfortable semi-silence. The movie comes to a point where the romance is noticeable. You feel your heart pumping a little faster when you look at Kento again.

He’s blushing as his eyes lock with yours. He’s never even kissed before, but he’s not stupid. He knows where you want to take this relationship, but he’s so damn scared to fuck it up. There’s got to be some sort of false confidence he could display.

Yet the minute your soft lips press against his, he knows you’re going to be able to suss out his inexperience within seconds. He doesn’t know how to kiss you back, so he sits there stunned. His hands are shaking as you sit even closer to him. And then when you pull away, you notice the look on his face.

“Shit, I am so sorry, Kento. I thought…well, I thought maybe you wanted to make-out.”

Kento’s cheeks burn even more, “I-I do, I just… Idon’tknowhowto.”

You can barely make out what he’s just said. But the sentiment is there and you pick it apart. He’s never made out before. Your brain turns this information over a few times and then it clicks. That was probably his first kiss. You begin to blush and apologize profusely.

“I am so sorry, I thought that maybe…”

Then he surprises you. He kisses you. It’s sloppy and harsh, but you appreciate it all the same. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, and he shudders again. You’re so soft and you smell so good and the feeling of your lips on his makes his heart race. When he pulls away, he’s the one apologizing.

“Don’t even say you’re sorry. That was a sweet kiss.”

Then the two of you turn to face each other. The tension could be cut with a knife. You reach out to cup his face again, pulling him even closer. His hands shake as he tries to caress you, but he’s just not even sure what to do. You lead him through another kiss, this time you deepen it just a bit more.

His fists stay clenched at his side for the first part of this kiss, then you gently reach out to intertwine your fingers with his. The minute you do this, he melts into the kiss.

Then you pull away, leaning your forehead against his. Your hands are so soft against his face. He nuzzles his face into your palm before he leans in once more. This time, Kento takes the lead which surprises you. He pins you down on the couch with his body weight.

The kisses that follow are so tentative and slow. He’s learning how to be less sloppy and more precise. He’s gaining confidence the more you two explore, and soon you feel his hands on your sides. He caresses you so softly, almost like he’s afraid you’re going to slip away and end up being some figment of his imagination.

“You’re a good kisser,” you compliment him when you both pull away to breathe.

“T-thanks…you were my first.”

You cup his cheeks, “I know that, baby.”

Then your lips meet in another sweet kiss. But this time you surprise him by gliding your tongue along his bottom lip. Kento freezes for a moment, then he parts his lips.

‘So soft, so sweet…tastes so good.’ His mind is racing with thoughts like this. ‘Wanna taste her even more…’

Your tongues rub and roll together sensually. Soon you feel him grinding against you and you notice just how hard he is. His erection is poking against your thigh. And as much as you want to keep going, you think it’s probably for the best that you pace these things out.

So you pull away, leaving Kento panting and looking so dazed. He’s so sweet like this. This is the cutest look on his face you have ever seen. His lips try to chase yours a little, but you pull back just enough. Then you caress his cheek.

“Let’s slow this down, yeah?”

He swallows hard. “Oh uhm…yeah okay.”

You notice his disappointment, “I just don’t want you to rush into this. Let’s make this something special,”

He finally nods and smiles. His heart feels full of affection for you. This was exactly what he needed after all the trauma in his life. You were truly someone who cared and you were looking out for him.

You kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry. I really like you. I’m not kicking you out.”

He smiles shyly, “Okay cool. Can we maybe cuddle?”

You wrap your arms around him and bring him even closer. His head rests on your chest and you two fall into the blissful happiness of cuddles.

[thefandomsfervent]

Personal Pigments Viktor x Reader (Part 5) - Venetian Red

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. Introducing Mel this chapter! Also slight panic attack/PTSD mention. Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

Several weeks have passed since then and the three of you have found a routine. 

Jayce will be there early in the morning to usher Viktor to bed for a couple hours. The two of you would work in spurts of conversation or in silence. It just depended on who found their focus first. Viktor would come in later, sporting coffees and teas for him and Jayce. He eventually brought you some too and the idea that he was warming up to you made you happy. The day would go on, at some point one of you would leave for lunch. Jayce almost always had to bring something for Viktor, it seemed like he never left the lab besides to sleep. You would be in and out, preferring your room for a day or looking at catalogues for frames and other supplies. At night, you would stay there, trying to capture the way the lab changed. The atmosphere of it during the day versus the night, the sounds of the city out the window, of the halls of the Academy. Jayce always left the lab first, which made sense since he was usually the first there. That would leave you and Viktor until you eventually wanted dinner or went to your room for sleep. 

Those first few nights where it was just you and Viktor were not as awkward as you were worried about. He didn’t make small talk, something you noticed he rarely did with Jayce either. On occasion you would leave your desk and come up behind him, with permission of course. You didn’t want to startle him in case he was working on something that required extreme focus.

You even met Mel Medarda, the Councilor that gave the boys the opportunity to prove themselves. As things were still barely a year into motion, the memory was fresh and you somehow got Jayce to talk about it several times in these past weeks. Viktor didn’t add to that story, just a roll of his eyes at her mention. He didn’t seem to truly dislike her, as much as he seemed to have a distaste at Jayce’s swooning. She came in one day, like she was looking for something.

“Councilor Medarda, what brings your visit this time?” Viktor is polite in his question, but the look on his face shows annoyance. Jayce pats his back before walking up to greet her.

“Just checking in, I heard that there was a development from Heimerdinger worth investigating.” You study her, how she moves. She glides through the room, elegance and innocence.

“We are still adjusting the crystals, no real changes just yet.” Jayce sounds embarrassed at the lack of a real update. 

“Change takes time, you can’t rush progress. It has to happen when it’s ready.” She turns to face you. “But I was talking about Y/N here.”

“Me?” You don’t have time to hide the shock in your voice. 

“Yes, you were brought up at a meeting some time ago. It’s lovely to meet you. Perhaps we can talk art sometime, hmm?” Everything about her is beautiful. Her poise, her voice, her smile. You wonder if she’d ever let you draw her. You doubt she’d have the time for that, or to talk with you about art like she says. It’s nice to imagine anyway. 

“I would like that.” She talks with Jayce for several minutes after about presentations and the like before walking over to your station. You still hadn’t started the painting yet, but you had several sketches out. Your sketchbook is strewn open on the table. You resist the urge to hide everything under her green gaze. Embarrassed that you didn’t have anything to show her. Her very presence suggests the expectance of results. 

“Quite the talent,” she says tapping the sheet closest to her, “I paint some myself. You’ll have to join me one day.” Her smile seems genuine, and when your heart jumps to your throat you can see why Jayce brings her up so often. You nod dumbly doing your best to ignore the heat burning the tips of your ears. She looks to the men and nods, signaling her exit. When she leaves you try to not look at either of them. You’re not close enough for teasing, you don’t think. But you do not want to chance it either. The three of you all return to your own work in silence.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It only took one minor explosion for you to realize why their lab was so deep into the halls of the Academy. It was loud, and the evidence of it was in broken charcoal and a huge line across the drawing you were working on. Jayce was disappointed but laughed it off. Viktor, however, was so frustrated. The hurried words and theories spilling out to Jayce, the both of them reviewing notes and redoing calculations. You let them talk to each other, not really understanding much of what they were saying. As you stood up to dust yourself off it was Jayce who spoke to you first. 

“Are you okay?” The bits of charcoal rolled off your pants, their hollow clink barely audible on the tile floor over the ringing in your ears. They must be used to the sound, although this was the first time you were here for something like this. Jayce came up to you, his large hand warm on your shoulder. “Y/N?” You looked up at him, wide eyed. There was this racing in your ears, this energy rippling through your chest. You felt cold. You felt hot. 

“I-” You couldn’t speak. This feeling. It was panic. Panic? What were you panicking about? He was looking at you, his brows furrowed as he took you in. He turns to Viktor, who is just shaking his head slowly with an upturned shoulder. He is also confused it seems. “I’m alright, yes, just a moment.” You went to walk out of the lab. You push the door open, a handprint left on it as you pass through the threshold. 

Standing in the hallway you work on your breathing. No broken bones, no broken skin. Knees a little weak. Lungs sore, not enough air. But the air was cool, it was there, you could breathe. You were okay. You were okay. You know this. You know this, “make your body know it too”. Leaning against a wall, letting the surface cool your back, you stay there for several minutes. Just breathing. You feel yourself starting to settle back into your body. You swipe your hands on your pants, drying the sweat on your palms. 

Despite it being four years ago, that bridge still haunts you. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Viktor stares at your handprint on the door. When Mel visited earlier, he realized something. Neither he or Jayce knew your first name til that moment. The Professor simply said “Miss L/N” and they both had gone with it, even addressing you as such. You never offered it, or seemed upset at the lack of proper introduction. It rolls around in his head, and he finds himself wanting to say it. He doesn’t yet, but he wants to feel it roll off his tongue, make sure he says it correctly.

His amber eyes look back to where you were sitting. Charcoal sticks in pieces on the floor and table. You must have broken them from the shock of the explosion. It was nowhere near as bad as when they first had attempted to stabilize the crystal. The windows were intact, no buzzing sparks making their way through the air and forcing connections between materials. Jayce is also looking at the door, his arms dangling limply by his sides. 

“What was that about?” 

Viktor isn’t sure. And he convinces himself that he isn’t particularly sure he cares either. You were in a lab, their lab. There were going to be mishaps. He shrugs as he says, “Maybe she is not fond of loud sounds?” He walks over to your work table, leaving his cane propped up by where he was working. He looks at the sketch you were working on, it was much larger this time. It’s of him and Jayce, “No surprise there”, and a hex crystal. Tiny flecks and runes marked on the paper to form the crystal they were fidgeting with, it was less true to life, more energetic and fantastical. You had drawn multiple versions of them in different dark and light shades, as if you were sketching every time they moved around their space. A large, dark, crumbling line juts from the paper. From the center. It shoots off the edge, black powder dusting below the line itself. Like you had shoved your hand full force into the paper. He follows the line off the paper, off the board, he sees where your hand had smudged the last bit of the mark. Like you were pushing away from it. 

Although he knew it wasn’t intentional, the line fit the drawing. It captured the movement of time, the explosive energy those crystals harbored. He did not dislike it. He gestures for Jayce to come look with him. “Woah.” Is all he says before they hear the door open. Your cheeks were dusted in a light blush. Embarrassment or anxiety on your face. 

“Not my best work,” You joke, trying to make light of the situation. 

“On the contrary,” it surprises you to hear Viktor speak, “this one is my favorite so far.” There’s a smile in his voice. “You’ll keep it, yes?” 

Moving to join them, you grab one of the thinner willow sticks of charcoal. You try to mimic the silhouette of that jarring line in a few other places, sketching lightly in case they need to be wiped out. 

“It’s workable.” Jayce claps a hand on Viktor and your shoulders in response. 

“Seems like we all have work to do then.” And the moment passes. That night, you stay longer in the lab than usual. 

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--------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ Part 4-.-Part 6.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[isabellamagic]

Diana and 47 things I commissioned part 3, aka my favorite batch

Let's kick it off with the thing that actually started this entire "isa throws money into the fire for hitman commissions" journey

Airport chibis

I wanted a custom fourana figure so I made the drawing above for the clay artist to follow (I had more refs but this was the main part)

For the figure, I love the hair shading, it's super cool, the way the artist matched my chair design 1:1 was pretty neat, and the tiny bag next to Diana was so carefully made, it's impressive

One thing to note is that I wasn't given any updates during the figure making progress, so I'm a little bummed about it. The expression didn't 100% match my idea, and the way they sit wasn't really natural lol. I had to do some adjustments after I received the figures (paint smears, cracks, leaning issues), so I wish they had allowed me to give feedback during the process

This was the first thing I commissioned, while it took a while to be finished (sep 2023-july 2024), I do like how they turned out, quirks and all

Bonus agent burnwood and miss 47, and also my nails I guess

Tiny posable dolls

Once again, my drawing was used as a reference. These cost so much for such a tiny size that I would probably never do it again lmao ($150!!!!!!)

I do have nendoroid dolls in mind for the future though, but they will require more time since I have to source many parts like faceplates, hair sculpts, outfits, shoes ect

Despite the insane price, these are indeed very cute, and I'm glad my design was just slapped onto their faces, they look like my drawings have come to life and that's super cool

Last but not least,

Papercut drawing based on @/inuitaiyo's fanart:

+ desk setup, I finally found clothes for the plushies

I saw SUN's fanart years ago and it's been lingering in my mind ever since, so when I found an artist that can do papercut drawings, my mind immediately went to that artwork. It's my favorite 47 diana fanart, it's so subtle and amazing, and SUN's gorgeous style was the cherry on top. I'm glad that the artist I worked with managed to capture what I love about the original artwork

I had total control over the entire process of this comm, so I added a neat little detail: If you look under Diana's hair, you can kinda see her eyes looking down at 47's lips ehehehe. I made sure that was gonna happen no matter what lol. I'm so happy it worked so well

That's all for now. Next time should hopefully be me finally getting custom fourana nendoroid dolls + a 1/6 scale mendoza diana doll. We'll see, money is a limited resource after all

One more link to SUN's art to end this because I think it deserves so much more love

[owlyflufff]

Something about Bokuto growing familiar with Akaashi's handwriting throughout their high school years, whether it's through little notes on how to improve that Akaashi leaves for him or the way caught Akaashi writing little tidbits of writing in a notebook or two.

Still Bokuto Koutarou remembers Akaashi Keiji's handwriting very well, it's a lot more elegant than his. He can recognize the particular way some letters are written, signs of something so precise, accurate and careful. It's very Akaashi-like.

By the time they've parted ways (or if Bokuto graduating but still going into the gym regardless to see Akaashi and the new recruits is considered parting ways), Akaashi's handwriting is still as memorable and recognizable to him. Bokuto knows it the same way he knows Akaashi so well.

Though merely sending a text message is more convenient and easier by a long mile, Bokuto decides to write a letter to Akaashi during his college days. Nothing admittedly prompts him to do it (he's always been one to try different things afterall), but he does it anyway, picking up pen and paper and humming a little tune as he crafts little stories, tales and experiences with his words.

His rambles and thoughts only for Akaashi and Akaashi to bear witness to.

A few days after sending the letter, no response. Akaashi doesn't bring it up either in text messages or conversation and for a little while Bokuto considers maybe it was a bit too silly of an idea.

Until a letter slips underneath his door and Bokuto doesn't even need to read where it came from before he's swiftly opening the envelope.

There is something to be said about seeing Akaashi's handwriting again. He misses it.

His finger gently trails along the paper, a soft smile on his lips as he reads Akaashi's response and his own tidbits of stories and tales, the chaos that is being Fukurodani's captain now in his stead. It doesn't take long before Bokuto is reaching for his pen and paper once more, writing another letter with just as much enthusiasm.

The exchange of letters between them last longer than Bokuto expected, but it would be an understatement to say he was happy in regards to it.

There is one day however, that Bokuto notices something is amiss.

Perhaps his eyes are just deceiving him, but he notices how some of the words are tangled. They aren't written the same way Bokuto recognizes them, not as careful as he had remembered them to be. It's a little odd to say the least but Bokuto merely assumes that it's just a little off detail and goes on, pen and paper already on the table as he writes back a response.

It gets worse.

The soft smile that was once there draws into a frown on Bokuto's lips as Bokuto notices how Akaashi's handwriting gets progressively messier. With every letter that he receives the words on the letter are getting harder to read, ink splatters and smudges on the paper. It doesn't help that the paragraphs start to get shorter and shorter with each passing letter Akaashi sends back.

Bokuto knows Akaashi's handwriting far too well but he knows Akaashi Keiji even more. Something is definitely wrong.

He's a new member of the MSBY team by then, having not been able to visit Akaashi as frequently when Akaashi also graduated. However this time he doesn't waste time, purchasing a ticket and making it over to Akaashi's apartment.

He doesn't know if it's a blessing or curse that his hunch was right.

There is something to be said about seeing someone so dear to you, with far too dark and deep circles under their eyes, room as though a whirlwind had disrupted and destroyed the former order he once recognized and Akaashi -- Akashi who had order at the forefront of his mind, Akaashi who gave reminders and ensuring Bokuto was on track, Akaashi who was always so careful and steady, now huddled up by his desk with trembling hands.

And if Bokuto stays the night, hugging him close and whispering nothing but soothing words to save him from another breakdown. If he shares the bed, letting Akaashi get the sleep he so desperately needed against the crook of his neck, watching over him and pulling him closer into his embrace. If he visits more often than once, bringing food and stories that start to slowly put a smile on Akaashi's face once more, no one would ever need to know save for the two of them.

Well kept moments shared and cherished between them, just like each other's letters they've kept and collected throughout the years. A stack of them safe and sitting snugly in a corner of their bedrooms.

They don't write letters to each other anymore. Instead there are sticky notes on a refrigerator, of food that needs to be purchased, chores to be done and little reminders. Of little doodles within folded paper sneaked into each other's bags, consisting of owls, hearts and smiley faces.

There's no need to write about their everyday lives, not when they get to share it constantly now within the confines of their shared apartment.

And as Bokuto looks to the side, seeing Akaashi leaning against his shoulder and writing something on a few drafts for Udai's next manga, he notices the handwriting once more. It's not as messy as it used to be, but neither is it the same manner Bokuto had grown to recognize. It's getting there though, slowly returning to same careful, steady and eased handwriting he had cherished silently throughout the years.

He kisses Akaashi's head, and knows that it's enough.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

rich girl 1

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

Summary: your long awaited ascension to the Home Owners Association proves more than you bargained for. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, side of Cole Turner

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.

Marge plays with the perfect slip of her bleach blond hair. Her lips glisten a shade of pink that reminds you of watermelon and her long lashes perfectly frame her crystal blue eyes. She is the perfect suburban housewife, the leader of the pack. 

The other women look to her as a beacon; they dress like her, speak like her, even try to walk like her. As you look around the tables, the cookie cutter women are almost interchangeable. You don't quite fit the mould but you've contorted yourself as best you can. 

It's your first meeting as part of the Home Owners Association. In your three long years in the suburb, it's been your ultimate goal. Well, it was Cole's. Your husband says you need to keep busy and what better opportunity to make friends. Maybe a great opportunity but not an easy one. 

Your husband just wants the best for you. You know that. Otherwise you wouldn't be living in this gorgeous suburb and your dream house. How could you want anything more? 

Now, you can't. You've done it. You've achieved it all. An HOA member among the privileged and the pretty.  

Caroline clears her throat and you look up. She stares at your french tips tapping on the table. You give a sheepish smile and stop yourself. You can't help it, you're nervous. 

As exciting as it all it, you almost want it to just be over. You want to run home and tell Cole all about it. About how you're one of them.  

You fan yourself with your hand, the sun beating down on the green lawn set with at least half a dozen tables. You're sweating through your foundation and the highlighter and the layers you felt were redundant. Your mascara is starting to stick. You glance over at Mitzy, there is even a trickle of sweat along her dark hairline. How? 

You cross your leg over the other and focus on Marge as she calls attention to the front table. There, her closest allies break bread; Callie who you often mistake for Marge, Olivia and her strawberry blond locks, Eleanor, and older member who kept her hair highlighted and draws her brows on, and Shanice, the youngest of any member, even yourself. 

"Alright, ladies, let's get to business," Marge calls out. You reach for your glass and find the mimosa drained. Right, you drank it all. You set it back and press together your wet fingertips. "Today, we have a new member!" 

Applause rolls through the crowd and you sit up straight, unhooking your leg as you look around meekly. You smile, cheeks tight and your lips tremble. You're so happy but so terrified. 

"And we know how we welcome new members. Honey, please come down," Marge says. 

You take a breath and stand. You gulp and tense your calves as you make a slow progress across the yard, fighting to keep your heels from sinking into the grass. As you reach the front table, your fearless leader welcomes you with a outstretched arm. 

"Our new members get to take on their very own HOA mission," Marge explains as Callie stands, a clipboard in her hands. She comes around beside her longlost twin, "so, Calliope, what do we have?" 

Marge leans over and the two review the clipboard. They hem and haw, muttering. 

"No, Mary is handling that already," Callie says, "these are the new ones." 

They confer then peek back at their table mates, "ladies, please, 14.1b. Do we agree?" 

The women look down at the pink folders and open them, fingertips brushing over paper to find the point in question. The look at each other but something in their expressions is uneasy. Marge clears her throat. 

"Well?" 

"Mm," Eleanor taps her nail on the folder, "yes, I think it will do." 

The others nod, though Shanice does so hesitantly.  

"Marvelous," Marge declares and flips the pages of the clipboard, wiggling free a pristine white envelope with the stamp of the HOA on the sealed flap. She holds it up, presenting it to the audience. 

"By our next meeting, you will report back," Marge declares, "deliver this to the house on the label. Callie," she pushes the clipboard away, "give her the briefing of the issue before she goes. Now we will check in on action items." Marge struts away as Callie pulls loose a sheet of paper and hands it over, "good luck." 

You take it and fold it around the envelope as Marge calls up Erin to present her progress in getting Suzette on Oakfront to remove her Venus statue. You return to your own table, near the back, and sit. Caroline sighs and you glance over at her. 

"What house?" She whispers. 

You let the paper unfold and show her the envelope label. She sniffs and squeezes your elbow, "oh, honey." 

You frown and look down. You stare at the address, you're not sure you're familiar with it. 17 Willow Drive. That's not too far from Elmwood where you live. Should be easy enough. 

💄

You review the directive on the slip of paper. Instead of going straight home, you head a few streets past your house to 17 Willow. You stand across the road in front of 16 and chew your lip. ‘Warning to be delivered to front door. Have occupant sign to acknowledge receipt.’ 

You sigh. You don’t like being the bearer of bad news. You wonder what exactly the homeowner did wrong. Their lawn is tidy and trimmed, the hedges meet the standards of the HOA guidelines, and nothing else sticks out from the row of suburban mansions.  

You cross the street and flick the envelope with your thumb. You hover just outside the gate in your kitten heels. You feel bad already. 

You reach over the white pickets and unclasp the gate. You stroll up the walk, admiring the landscaping. Huh. Paint colour falls within the standard and no unseemly ornaments. You can’t figure out why you’re here. 

You climb the steps and approach the front door. You tap the doorbell and wait, looking around aimlessly. You clutch the paper and envelope tight as your heart races. Maybe all this isn’t for you. You thought the HOA was more a women’s club; they had a book club and social nights and all that stuff, you didn’t really think about the nitty gritty of it all. 

You lean on your left foot, letting your ankle bend.  

“What do you want, toots?” A voice asks from the speaker of the doorbell cam. 

You smile. You didn’t reapply your lipstick. You bend slightly and wave at the lens. 

“Um, hello,” you give your name before you continue, “I’m part of the HOA. I have um, I have something for you.” 

You hear a click. You wait. You check your apple watch as the time stretches on. You peek behind you again then turn back to the front door. You hit the bell again. 

“Leave it in the slot,” the voice growls, “busy.” 

“Oh, right, erm, I do need you to sign--” 

“Christ fuckin’ sakes.” 

The speaker dies out again and you wince at the profanity. Oh, great, he’s already upset. You bounce on your heels and sway. You don’t do well with anger. 

You hear the lock on the inner door twist and you take a breath. You steel yourself and plaster your smile in place. You see a shadow inside then the screen door opens to a naked man with only a hand towel to cover his most intimate spot. He drapes it just in front of his pelvis but you keep your eyes above board. 

“Sorry, I--” 

“I told you, I’m busy,” he snarls, his mustache bristling on his curled lip. 

You swallow and your smile threatens to break. Maybe you should’ve listened and just come back later. You’re speechless as all your mental preparation flutters away. 

“Sir, I, er, I--” 

“Enjoying the view, sweet cheeks?” He scoffs and sends you a wink, “should I lift the towel or what?” 

“Uh, no, please, don’t,” you put your hands up, the envelope nearly slipping from your grasp. “I...” You blink at him. His grey hair droops crookedly, the top longer than the trimmed sides. “Here, er, I just need you to read this and sign--” 

He snatches the letter with one hand and turns it over to look at the HOA stamp. He rolls his eyes. He brings his other hand up, the towel clamped between two fingers and you block out his lower half with your palm and look up. He rips the envelope in two and drops it. 

“You can tell the bimbos to fuck off,” He kicks the remnants towards you, “now if you’ll excuse me, lube’s drying up.” 

He lets the door fall shut and spins around, giving a view of his ass before he slams the inner door. You gasp and bend to gather up the destroyed letter. You quickly retreat, cheeks burning in horror. 

Now you know why Caroline seemed so concerned. 

[yallthemwitches]

A Hundred Visions and Revisions

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

Rated T, Read below the cut or on AO3 Here!

Like usual, she’s already splayed herself across the couch, too enraptured in her book to notice the portrait hole swing open. Spotting her, he makes a show of staggering across the room, dropping his broom idly to the floor with a groan while soaking in the way her lips twitch behind the page in an attempt to ignore him. Making it around the couch, he gives no preamble and collapses against her with an oof, enjoying her small squeaks of surprise as he nuzzles his face into her clavicle. 

“Practice was bad?” Her eyes settle back on the page and a hand finds its way into his hair, fingering the ends that have been shocked into fractured points by the winter wind. 

“Horrible, awful, downright contemptible.”

“That many adjectives, huh.” 

He grunts, scooting his body down further so his head is cradled into her chest, arms snaking around her sides to find the place where her shirt has gotten untucked to draw circles into skin. It has become a tradition of sorts—she waits for him after practice, holding court in front of the common room fireplace and making herself look too irresistible to not fall into the second he returns. It’s a shame they only have one year of school left to enjoy it. 

 She tries to go back to reading, but he continues to sigh, each more theatrical than the last, fingers starting to tickle and pinch at her waist rather than caress. 

“If you want attention, just say so,” she says behind the book, mouth pressed into a tight line but her eyes sparkling.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just lay here…suffering.”

She snorts, and he presses a victory smile into her skin. “You’re so spoiled.”

“Apparently not spoiled enough to get a little love from my girlfriend in my time of need.” He groans, wiggling his hips against her.

“When are you not in your time of need.” She murmurs, deadpan, but her hand moves to the back of his neck, slowly massaging the muscles that hide just under his tangle of hair. She feels him relax under her ministrations, finally abandoning his ‘woe is me’ act to let his body meld against hers. 

“What are you reading?” He asks after moments of silence, eyes fluttering closed from the rise and fall of her chest. 

“Oh, some book about sex magic. Some absolute nutter muggle wrote it—complete madness but fun to read.”

“Sex Magic you say?”  Suddenly he is wide awake, propping himself up and arching an eyebrow from over the book. She eyes him warily and tries to ignore the fingers that have wasted no time to drift upwards and play with the buttons of her shirt. He swoops down, pressing his lips to her neck. 

“Don’t get so excited, Potter. It’s a load of bunk.”

He hums, already undoing her topmost button and moving to kiss the skin there. 

“I dunno—-maybe we should test it out first…get a first hand account.” He gets another button undone and she makes a noise between a laugh and a moan. 

“I’m not very keen on being topless in the middle of the common room so if you could kindly quit it—-“

“You didn’t seem to mind it the other night,” he quips back and enjoys the view of her skin flushing from her cheeks all the way past where he can see under her uniform. 

“James.”

“Fine,” he whines. He stops his progress on her shirt and gives her exposed sternum one last kiss before settling his head back down, hands moving back to encircle her.

“You’re a tease, Evans. A dirty, rotten siren taking advantage of my poor knackered heart.”

She cradles him against her, letting one hand slide back through his hair while the other caresses his back. She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again. 

They lay in a comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling low beside them. She can feel James’ breath start to steady against her, somehow keeping his grip tight on her despite sleep setting in.

“Hey James?” 

“Hmmm?” He nestles his nose down into her, hands grasping tighter at her waist. 

“Have you thought about it at all?”

“Shagging in the common room? All the time.”

She snorts, shaking him a bit. “No, you git—about Dumbledore’s offer.”

His eyes remain closed but his mouth sinks into a small line against her. 

“Nothing to think about—-I’m all in.”

She fidgets under him and the bottom of his jersey rides up, exposing some of his midriff. Absent-mindedly, she runs her hand over the skin, rubbing anxious circles.

“And your offer from the Canons? That’s a pretty big deal.”

“When the war is over, I can try out again.” 

“And if they don’t let you?”

He props up on his chin, looking up to see her staring off beyond the common room. “Then I’ll look into another profession– like magical artifacts or becoming your indentured servant.”

He expects her to crack a smile at his joke, but her eyes continue to look away, seeing something that feels much bigger than job prospects.

“Lily?”

She shakes her head like trying to dispel smoke. He sits up, swinging her legs so they now rest over his, hips flush together. Taking her cheek in his palm, he forces her to look at him and he sees tears just harboring past the surface. 

“I know it’s silly—but can you tell me the future? The way you see it.” she whispers, curling into him so the top of her head can rest right under his chin, book falling abandoned down onto the floor. She knows he’s no divination master–she’s seen his grades to prove it—but they both know that’s not what she’s asking.

“Well–” 

He stares into the fire, watching as the embers slowly lower and diminish one by one. It’s hard to ignore the feeling of encapsulation–that they are just children needing to concoct stories to make it all worth it. Her fingers play with the bottom of his jersey, anxiously awaiting his turn to spin this night’s fable, probably one of many before the war lets up.

“Well, first and most important, we will still be madly in love—sickenly so.” 

She makes a noise and he can feel a smile break through for the first time that evening. 

“Sickenly you say? Says who?”

“Says everyone who is jealous that they can’t be us. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you as it is our current reality—obviously.”

“Obviously.” she echoes, before muttering arrogant under her breath. 

“We will fight for the Order, beat out Voldemort, and have an incredible victory shag afterwards—”

She hums against his chest and he can feel some of the warmth coming back to her.

“Who knew it was so simple—have you told Dumbledore this strategy?” She turns her head up to flick his nose and he kisses the tip of hers in return. 

“I did–he was shocked he never thought of it actually–said the last bit was particularly vital…”

She can’t help but laugh. “Sometimes it’s like your head deflated but landed right in the gutter.” 

She continues to look up at him, eyes getting more brilliant as her tension melts.  “Go on then—Voldemort’s miraculously easy defeat, victory shag…ok what else?”

He lowers his lips to her ear and lets them skim against the shell. “We get married.”

Suddenly both of their heartbeats fall into overdrive. He flashes his eyes down to see her cheeks are bubbling with pink, eyes wide and targeted right at him. 

“And what part of the sequence does that occur?” Her voice is barely a whisper and he notices her hands have stalled against him, frozen mid-fiddle with the fabric. 

“Well,” he knows she can feel his heart jumping against her, but he doesn’t care, “I was hoping during the exposition or rising action portion of the plot rather than the conclusion.”

Her eyes are dancing, surely from the fire that continues to drop beads of light into her hair and face. 

“And you don’t think that’s…unwise, seeing we’ve only been dating officially five months.”

His eyes meet hers, now devoid of jest.

“It’s not like being wise has ever been in my wheelhouse anyways.”

She could fight it—tell him it’s a mad idea to be thinking about marriage at a time like this, in a time where every passing day seems less sure than the last. But something about it feels too enticing to pass up—the image of them in a home all their own, sitting just like they are now but more solid and sure of themselves, leaning into the domesticity and adoration of it all because they can. 

 She worries if she ruminates on it too much, it will be painful to let go when the time comes.

“And we won’t bicker?”

“Not anymore than married people do—or we do now I guess I should say.”

“And you will make me breakfast everyday, in bed?” 

“Evans, if you’re my wife I’ll do anything anything you ask of me. My occupation is indentured servant, remember?” He is trying to stay light, but she can tell he means it. 

She wishes she could dream like he can—see beyond the rubbish and focus solely on the parts that can work. It’s simultaneously what she is jealous of and admires in him, the bright side is always where he wants to be. 

“James—” Its a warning: a warning that perhaps he is flying too close to the sun. A warning that perhaps it’s too tempting not to accept it. A warning that at this moment, it might be too much. 

But she doesn't need to say anymore. He pulls her closer to his chest, catching the top of her head under the crook of his chin and locking her there against him. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t me proposing—just…just dreaming.” He lets the last word hang there, and Lily watches the image of them in their house with their happy life become clouded and technicolor. A fantasy. 

Suddenly, the thought of losing it terrifies her. 

“A good dream—a nice dream.,” She doesn’t know who she is assuring more, herself or him. “Something I want too.”

She feels his body heat rise, hands finding the end strands of her hair and curling his fingers through them. 

“Yeah?” His hope, like most other aspects of him, is contagious.

“Don’t get too excited Potter—there’s a lot that can happ—“

“Shh, Evans,” he says, grabbing her face, hands shaking with unparalleled joy. In his eyes the dream still lingers and she doesn’t want to ever look away.

“Let me kiss you—our dream can wait, but let me kiss you now.” 

[f1version]

BARBARA ROBERTS ★ DTN SERIES

series’ masterlist

An old chapter is reopened, that force and distinction that drove Barbara Roberts to the top of F1 for two consecutive years, back home. Malibu Racing is a new temple, the extension of a legacy.

Barbara Roberts, Team Principal and CEO of Malibu Racing F1 Team has her origins tied to history books. A two-time world champion whose on-track abilities couldn’t be ignored. A fierce competitor who came back for more.

At the young age of four, Barbara began chasing the excitement behind the wheel, observing karting races closely, going home, and developing her talent with each lap of her uncle’s old kart. She found happiness in speed, enjoyed visiting the Phoenix Street Circuit each year, obsessed over the Indy500, and watched Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost challenge each other throughout the years. Suddenly, she began to dream about a hot-pink car, all her notebooks filled with drawings of it. She, as well as her family, then understood that racing was a fire that needed to be fueled.

Roberts made her kart racing debut at the age of eight, and after winning her first race, it was a matter of time before her name was engraved on several US-based kart championship trophies. However, further progress would require expanding horizons, which prompted the Roberts to move across the ocean in 1994, supporting Barbara for what could be a challenging career. 

Europe was fast, she stayed faster. By fourteen her collection of kart titles included national, international, and world championships. Every race and practice aimed for that unattainable perfection, being aware of the judging eyes on each step she took. At 16 years old, Roberts was fearless, deciding to pursue another dream of hers, an engineering career. She used to say that the pressure was a reminder of what was yet to come.

Pieces began to fall into place, Barbara embarked on single-seaters as soon as age allowed it. Her first title in Monoposto Racing Club was followed by titles in Formula BMW ADAC, Formula Renault, and the Formula 3 Euro Series — all consecutive titles. And bound to keep the momentum, she started hunting for a seat in Formula One, closing the deal with BMW Williams in a reserve capacity for 2004 and securing a race seat for the 2005 season. 

Debuting at 21, Barbara spent her year fighting at the midfield in struggling machinery, yet was able to finish 10th in the World Championship, once again pouring ink on paper for what would be BMW Sauber in 2006. An improvement in reliability for her sophomore season placed Roberts on track for her maiden Grand Prix victory in the streets of Monaco, an unbelievable, emotional, and well-remembered drive that holds her in the tracks’ spotlight to this day.

For the 2007 season, Scuderia Ferrari took the bet on two young talents: Barbara Roberts and Kimi Räikkönen, giving both drivers the exact same 3-year-contract and an opportunity to make history. 

The pair held a fiery battle all season, ending in one of the most astonishing title deciders in the sport’s history, where the world championship rested on their number of wins due to a tie in the points. The crown sealed on Räikkönen, but Barbara’s own would arrive that very next year, securing it after 8 wins and 15 total podiums.

In her final year of mastery, Roberts became a double World Champion after a year-long battle against Brawn’s Jenson Button, three points separating them. And despite being contracted to race in 2010, Roberts decided to leave F1 behind at the end of the 2009 season.

After her F1 retirement, Barbara has taken on different roles and challenges throughout the years. In 2011 revealing her retirement's original reason, Roberts announced her new position as CEO of her family’s emblematic automobile manufacturer, Malibu Motors, linking nostalgia with modernity. In 2016, they held the biggest car launch in history, presenting one supercar and seven SUVs which resulted into having six of those as the bestselling cars of the year. In 2017, Malibu Motors became part of the Formula 3 engine programme, making the public think that was her only form of a comeback to motorsport. Yet, one year later, a victory in the 24 Hours of Le Mans was waiting for her and former rivals, Fernando Alonso and Jenson Button. And, in for 2019, she begun sponsoring multiple young women across motorsport, mentoring those in the path to Formula One.

Important figures of the sport, old colleagues, and the public, believed Barbara would be back in the car sooner or later, but after fourteen years, she has opted for a different path. A decade-long project becomes reality in 2023, with two hot-pink cars flying on track, resembling Barbie’s old childhood drawings.

★ Malibu Racing F1 ⓒ 2023

THE PINK MEMBERSHIP — @lorarri @fefieverywhere @inejghafawifesblog @lenean7 @boiohboii @monacokisses @nyxblessed @whenelisefallsinlove @peachiicherries @folklorelvrr @spencerrxids @destourtereaux @lovelytsunoda @landonorizzz @love4lando @evans-dejong @cielolercs @mae119 @spacius @almostjollypizza @elliegrey2803 @thatsadsmallchild @formulaoneluver33 @obsessed-fan-alert @teamspideyman @mikauraur @goldsainz @iamk-shale @fefieverywhere @be-your-coffee-pot @asian-vulcan @schumacheer @opheliaas-stuff @satellitelh @sialexia @folkloresreputation . . . join the taglist here

[kellycataclysm]

Harvey's Birthday - a work in progress

I've been writing pieces of this fic for a while, have teased it in maybe four or five of my fics, and it is still very much a work in progress but in honour of our pixel husband's birthday, I thought I'd share a little of my wip Snowbound which takes place on the first birthday Harvey gets to share with Lyra. Spicy content under the cut.

He grasped her arms at her words, his thoughts grinding to a halt, his cock twitching. ‘Fuck me...' He all but groaned the words. 'Lyra...’ He rested his head on her shoulder for a moment. How did she do this? His body felt on fire, fingertips tingling against her freckled skin. She giggled. One of his favourite sounds in the world.

She spoke softly. ‘Now that’s an idea.’ Her voice so seductive, it made his pulse spike.

He held her close, his chest to her back. He pressed his hips against her ass, against her wrists, fastened securely behind her, a sudden need for the smallest amount of friction, just for the slightest relief. He snaked his hand slowly up her body, over the curve of her breast, resting at her throat. He felt her swallow, a breathy sigh leaving her lips, the slightest giggle.

She sounded excited, the tiniest hint of apprehension, and it thrilled him. He’d had her pinned to the wall, held her hands behind her back, felt her body trapped between his and his bed, but never this. His height, his authoritative tone of voice, his physical presence, the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, all lighting a fire in her eyes that made him burn for her. But they’d never done this before.

He spoke against her ear, as sweet as honey, but deep and dark, almost dangerous, knowing exactly what it would do to her, a flash of heat blooming over her perfect skin, her breath quickening, a rush of warmth between her thighs. God, he couldn’t wait to put his mouth on her, taste how much she wanted him. There were other things to come first.

‘As tempting as it is to hear more of that particular train of thought, I think you could be doing something so much better with that pretty mouth of yours.’

Her breath caught in her throat, desperation flooding her senses. She wanted him, all of him, to feel him press into her mouth, feel his gentle hands on her face, to taste him on her tongue, to feel his body moving against hers, brushing against her lips, drawing every last drop of pleasure from him.

‘Harvey… please.’

He whispered into her ear. ‘As you wish.’ She moaned softly.

She felt his hands move slowly over her body, sliding along her skin, cupping her breasts squeezing gently. She arched her back, leaning into him, goosebumps prickling over her skin. He slowly turned her around to face him, hands at the back of her head now, his gentle touch unravelling the knot in the blindfold. She blinked as he carefully pulled it away, seeing his handsome face, a flush just below his glasses, a knowing smile, a darkness in his eyes that made her weak. She loved him so completely, she wanted him to take every piece of her, as much as he wanted, to let go. She looked up into his eyes.

‘Hey you.’ She whispered.

‘Hello lovely.’ He leaned in, capturing her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she gave herself to him. He teased her mouth open, his tongue brushing against hers. She whimpered, wishing she could wrap her arms around him, the fact that she couldn’t stoking a fire in her. He pulled her body against his, hands at her waist, the warmth of his skin against hers, sending a shiver down her spine.

As they parted, her gaze pierced his. ‘Where do you want me, handsome?’

Snowbound will arrive sometime in the new year.

Happy birthday Harvey!

[seresinhangmanjake]

Birthday Boy

Dad!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: It’s Jake’s birthday and you have a very special gift for him.

Warnings: this is just a mega fluff monster (i think, anyway). Jake’s all happy being a dad and being in love with his lady and everything. Maybe cursing. Didn’t double check. Allusion to eventual smut that is not in this fic. Just to be safe:18+

Notes: can be read alone, but contributes to the Oh, Baby world as well. 

Words: 2422

Oh, Baby Masterlist

Masterlist

*turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing*

------

Thirty-four. The number was speckled throughout his house. It was strung together as part of a lengthy banner that was taped to his wall; scribbled in green icing across the center of the vanilla cake you’d baked him with an equal number of rainbow-colored candles sticking out the top; and in the form of two massive shiny, floating balloons in the corner of the living room—Rooster’s addition to the decor, supposedly meant to tease Jake but were obviously brought for your daughter, Eve’s, amusement. And the little girl loved them, immediately crawling across the carpet to stare up at the mirror-like mylar that reflected her fascinated face. 

Jake had joked two weeks prior that he was getting old, so you’d taken it upon yourself to plan a party that reminded him of his younger days…his very young days. You’d gone all out, including everything for a kiddie party but the clowns and ponies. 

Initially, you weren’t sure how he’d take the surprise—he could see the worry in your twisted features when you observed his wide eyes and gaping mouth—but Jake only grabbed you around the waist and kissed you until everyone grew bored of watching a couple so lost in themselves. No one had ever quite done anything like this for him before. He’d had birthday parties, sure, plenty as a child, but not a single one after his mid-twenties, and never thrown by a woman he loved.

You’d still kept it small. Inviting your shared friends, a few other pilot buddies, Penny and Mav and a couple of the Hard Deck bartenders—one of whom was the pretty blonde Rooster had yet to completely get over despite the year that had passed since first meeting her. Clearly you knew something the rest of them didn’t when it came to the woman because you spent a good bit of time trying to push her and Rooster together. And if Jake could tell by the occasional glances he shot the two, it looked like some progress had been made. Good, Jake thought. He wanted his friends to have what he had.

By far, it was the best party he’d been to, fully surpassing the unknown number of wild nights he'd dedicated to getting hammered in college. Jake liked the intimacy of it all, even more so after it had died down and most guests returned to their own homes, leaving just you and his team remaining.

“Well,” Rooster began after taking a sip of the beer that you’d made sure to pour into a polka-dotted plastic cup, “I hope you enjoy being old, Hangman.”

Phoenix tucked her finger under the elastic band holding the cone-shaped hat to Rooster’s head and pulled it a good few inches away from his face before releasing it. It slapped harshly against his skin and with a frown, he rubbed his palm over the fresh sting.

“If he’s old, we’re all old,” she scolded. “And you should be nice to the birthday boy.”

“The birthday boy’s got enough nice things. He’s got his lovely lady.” He winked at you and you rolled your eyes with a chuckle. Then he extended his finger to lightly tickle Eve’s cheek. “And he’s got this little nugget.” 

When his daughter giggled in his arms, Jake pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hair. He smiled contently before turning his head to connect his lips with yours. You both grinned into the kiss, that usual fluttering blooming in his stomach as you placed your hand on his cheek to draw him in closer. 

“Ok,” Payback just short of shouted, trying to pull your and Jake's attention back to the surface. “You know other people are here, right? And you’ve got a child in your arms.”

Separating from Jake, you looked back to your group of friends. “That was an innocent kiss.”

Fanboy snorted and took a bite of his cake. “It was no peck,” he mumbled around a mouthful of sponge and frosting. 

Jake reached behind you to rest his hand against your lower back, but it lasted there all of five seconds before traveling lower to settle on your ass. "Well, that’s as innocent as we get," he said.

“Pathetic,” Rooster playfully scoffed. “Be less in love with each other.”

“Not a chance, man.”

Everyone released a mocking groan at the sappiness, but Jake only snickered and leaned over to kiss your temple. It wasn’t the first time his teammates had joked about your supposed ‘nauseating’ obsession with one another, but underneath, their love for the two of you together was more than supported. 

“We should probably go,” Phoenix said. They all nodded in agreement, hugging you and Jake before giving extra special goodbyes to your daughter. Then they were gone—so much like a herd of wild animals or a school of fish migrating in one giant mass. 

Jake blew out a breath. He wasn’t old, but it didn’t mean the man didn’t feel the exhaustion of the long evening. 

“Tired?” you asked, extending your arms for Eve. 

He handed the girl over to her mother and shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Good, because your night is not over yet.” 

Jake’s eyes followed the movement of your finger drawing a line down the row of his shirt buttons. He looked up at you. “Is that right?”

You winked, and as you turned on your heel to go put Eve to bed, Jake began to throw forgotten used cups and plates into the trash. They littered the area but he expected no less. His friends had a habit of bringing a tornado with them just to vanish when time to deal with the aftermath. 

“You don’t have to do that, baby,” you said, stepping back down the stairs. He felt your arms snake around his waist a moment later and squeeze. “Come with me instead.” 

Taking his hand, you led him to sit in a dining chair and settled yourself onto his lap. 

He knew his gaze was burning as it roamed over the features of your face. The only time it wasn’t was when he made sure to tamp down his desire in front of his daughter. But his baby girl was asleep now, and nothing stopped him from unveiling the entirety of what he felt for you. 

He was fully prepared to capture your lips in a kiss, but you stopped him when you said, “I got you a birthday present.”

Jake cared; he did. But you’d already given him so much and his neediness for you blocked out any ability to think of what could possibly be more important than you on top of him; he inside of you. 

He hummed lowly. “Does it happen to be lacy?” he asked. His fingers slid along the smooth skin of your thigh, pushing up the hem of your dress. “And under here?”

“Yes,” you grinned as you tilted your head down to brush your nose over his. “But I got you something else, too. Something better.”

You hopped up, slipping from his grasp before he could blink and disappearing around the corner into the hall. He instantly felt the gaping hole of your absence; the chill now coating his skin from the sudden loss of your warm body. He wasn’t a fan.

“Honey, I’m not sure there’s much better than you all dolled up in lace,” he called after you. 

You returned with your hands tucked behind your back, a sweet smile on your face as you once again took your seat atop his thighs. Jake rose a brow at your barely contained excitement when you whipped an envelope out and held it in front of his face. He leaned back a bit to get a good look, but the crisp, white folded paper was blank. 

“What is this?”

“You have to open it and read.”

He did as told and took it from your hands, lifting the unsealed flap and pulling out another folded sheet of paper. One of his arms snuck around your waist, holding your body flush against his again—tighter this time so you had no chance of escape—as he began to read aloud. 

“Petition for a change of name of a mi—” Jake’s voice caught on the syllable. His whole body, organs and all, briefly froze within him. A swallow strained his throat. “Minor,” he finally finished. He let the word settle on his tongue and when his brain regained functioning and fully processed the weight of its meaning, his eyes flicked over to yours. “Are you serious?”

Nodding with surety and cupping his cheek, you said, “I want to change her name. You just have to agree and we’ll sign some papers.”

The tears began to cloud his vision, fuzzing the words on the page as he read them again and again. “So, she’d…”

“She’d be Eve Seresin.”

Jake had imagined it before, dreamed about it. His sweet family—a small unit of Seresins that might one day grow into a decent sized bunch. You and he outnumbered by a group of little ones. But since your baby girl was such a surprise and you’d had Eve without him there—without him even in the picture at the time—her name was yours. Jake was fine with that. Of course, he was. It only made sense, and he wasn’t going to demand his daughter take his name just because you and he were officially together. But he couldn’t deny how the thought of his baby girl being a Seresin in name delightfully tightened his chest. He wouldn’t be too terribly upset by his woman sharing his name, either.

With your free hand, you brushed away the escaped salty droplet that slipped down his cheek. He met your eyes again.

“Honey, are you sure? Just because she doesn’t have my name, doesn’t mean—”

You shook your head. “I know, but your family name means something to you,” you said. “Besides, I imagine we’d be doing this sooner or later, and with Eve starting daycare in a couple of months it’s really the perfect time.”

You’re amazing, you know that? He thought about saying it every time he looked at you. Every time he saw you walk through the door, or take care of your daughter, or when you crawled into bed and cuddled up to him. And moments like this, when you expressed your devotion in such wonderful, unexpected ways. 

Jake put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you down for the kiss he’d been desperate to give you. It was a pattern of long kisses between short kisses, with some kisses making their way to cheeks and jawlines, and eventually, his lips found the sweet, delicate skin of your neck, sucking red marks into the flesh. He liked those marks—made sure to give them to you often—a new one for every old one that disappeared. He was especially adamant about it once you’d started back to work at the bar, remembering all too clearly the wide range of drunk men that went far out of their way to hit on you. But you were his now. You shared a daughter, you had a future, and he didn’t need other guys thinking they were going to get lucky with his lady. And though you didn’t give him the satisfaction, he knew you secretly loved it, too.

You moaned, your head naturally falling to the side to open access to more of your skin, and Jake gripped your neck a bit harder, holding you still as he took a gentle bite.

“I love you,” he whispered against your neck, licking over the fresh mark to soothe the tenderness before lifting his head. “And you gave me a wonderful gift.”

The glimmer in your eye—he lived for that glimmer. That little shine of pride. “Yea?”

“Yea.” He smiled softly. “Any chance you want to get your name changed, too?” 

That smile morphed into a pout, his bottom lip slightly puckering.

“Don’t puppy-dog-eyes me, Seresin.”

“But Honey, I can get a wedding together so fast.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, but your lips were struggling to stay in a straight line. They begged to curve upwards; to part and bare your white teeth in the perfect smile that had taken him to his damn knees the first time he saw you. 

Jake loved when he could get your smile to break through any emotion you were feeling or trying to portray. He was convinced that was one of the reasons you worked so well together. Crying, irritated, exhausted—didn’t matter what it was, he could find some way to get you to crack a smile. Now was no different. 

He knew you weren’t going to say yes; your relationship was officially only six months old and you’d always lived by a hard line of being with a man for a year before getting married. He knew this before you even slept together, back when you were friends exchanging innocent thoughts about potential futures. But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy hinting at the subject every once in a while. 

“We’ll talk about it,” you said, moving one of his stray blond locks back into place. “But let's start with our daughter’s.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He accepted your kiss—your promise that when he asked you that question for real, you would say yes. That was enough for him. When you were ready, he would get down on his knee and present the ring he’d had made a month ago, and you would start another chapter. But for now, everything he had was enough. More than enough. More than he could’ve dreamed of. 

“Would you like to have your other present now?” you asked. 

Your finger slowly traced the neckline of your dress, pulling down just a bit to reveal the lacy trim of your bra.

Jake took in a deep inhale through his nose and let the exhale fill his cheeks as it left his body. Just under that dress was a layer of thin, intricate material in a deep shade of red just barely covering some of his favorite parts of you. Swallowing hard, he replaced your finger with his and pulled the front of your dress lower to expose more of the garment. The lace barely contained the swell of your breasts, and he instantly hardened beneath you, cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. 

With his eyes still glued to your cleavage, he nodded. “I would absolutely love to have my other present now.”

[comicaurora]

Hello! I wanted to send my appreciation to you as a longtime fan of OSP and Auroura! I am an English Major with ADHD and your content always makes me inspired and my English Lit. Brain very happy with how good your storytelling is.

My question is what stories inspire you to write or make you want to sit down and tell a story? Your content makes me want to work on my projects, but my Adhd only last as long as I am not disturbed (i.e. need to eat or get up and move). You have always been upfront about your Adhd so my second question is how do you keep focused on your story and not burn out? (Talking as someone who is writing a novel as their thesis)

You have been a great inspiration over the years and someone I look up to as a storyteller! I wish you focus and luck! => 💝

Woo! Interesting questions!

When it comes to inspiration, I haven't really found a pattern for what works and what doesn't. The majority of the time, only new experiences/stories I haven't seen or read before work for me - rewatches and re-reads, while much more comfortable for my brain, don't tend to translate into creative inspiration for me - but it's not like a specific genre, or even a specific kind of relaxation, consistently work for me.

The way my brain works is a bit "no take only throw", as it were. I want to just sit down and make solid, steady progress in a predictable environment with a routine, but what I need is to try new things, go outside, take risks - because all those things give me new material to work with and refill the creative gas tank. When I'm stuck, I can't just hit the gas and punch through the block - I need to back up and try a new angle.

The good part of all this is that whatever engine that's running my subconscious is actually pretty good at signaling what it needs. The ADHD brain will be repelled by activities that aren't working for it and drawn to the things it needs at the time, whether that's creative energy or exercise or cleaning or doodling or listening to music or suddenly binge-watching a show that's not even all that great, and once it's got what it needs out of it - whatever that is - it'll be repelled again, either spitting out a sudden burst of creative energy or retreating to its den to chew on whatever it got out of the experience for a more slow-building reward. Little bursts of motivation and creativity pop up all throughout the day, and if you can pivot to the activity in question - or at least note down the idea you just had - you'll be able to harness that pretty nicely.

This "system" really only works for me because I have an extremely unstructured schedule and nobody relying on me to be consistent moment-to-moment. If I'm following the creative needs of my inscrutable Better Writer In The Back Of My Head, I can't be worrying about things like a consistent lunchtime or classes or a 9-to-5. All of my observations are caveat'd by the fact that I am ridiculously lucky to have the kind of freedom of movement and schedule that I can focus entirely on getting to know my brain better.

When it comes to staying focused on any one project, I've reluctantly concluded that the only way to win is not to play. Creativity needs time and diversity to recharge, and when you stall out in any given work session, it's usually because you're out of gas. This is why I maintain several projects in varying stages of "for my eyes only"-ness - a sketchbook, private writing projects, patreon doodles, music practice; even in the large-scale projects like the channel and the comic I have multiple angles of attack at any given time, where I can as needed switch between scripting, research, drawing frames, storyboarding more plot onto the end of the comic's current draft and lining/coloring/background-ing the finalized pages of the comic chapters earlier. This lets me maintain semi-steady progress on average, even if any one facet of the process is left by the wayside for potentially even weeks at a time.

If you're working on one writing project, one novel, I'd recommend giving yourself some time to do small-scale side-hobbies. It won't feel like they're helping, but they are.

I've started to think of inspiration rather similarly to the way I think about nutrition and digestion. It's a somewhat arcane process that, despite being a part of me, I don't exactly understand what's going on under the hood. If you eat only one thing, no matter what that one thing is, you're going to end up sick because you're lacking all sorts of niche micronutrients. If you parcel out a specific space of the only things you're allowed to eat, you might not get sick (as quickly) but you're likely going to become increasingly miserable as you think of the things you're not allowing yourself to try, or slowly build up highly specific forms of malnourishment by avoiding certain things entirely. But if you start listening to your body and try eating what it says it needs at any given time - oh, I could go for a rice bowl right now, oh I don't think I'm feeling something sugary today, man I could really go for some grapes - you're likely to hit a broadly good balance of health because you're hitting a broad range of things your body needs, even if you don't know all of their names or calorie counts, and your body is putting those resources to good use without your conscious input. Between my brain and my stomach, I only trust one of those to actually understand what a stomach needs to do its thing - and between me and my creative brain, most of the time it feels like I just work here.

I hope there was something helpful in all this!

[little-sleepy-owl]

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

the reader is a sinner woman, who starts to act all motherly around the princess of Hell.

platonic, fluffy and wholesome.

originally I was going to publish this after Alastor x virgin!reader thingy. but holy hell, this weekend wasn't kind to me, and it seems this work week will not be kind either. so while it's still in progress, i offer you this little thing.

she's very quick to pick up on what's going on. she's is in so much doubts and mixed feelings it drives her crazy.

yeah, her mother wasn't around for seven years, but still… how can she betray her? how can she let another woman fill this role just like that?

but you're so good to her. she can't help, but feel safe and secure and happy, when you ask about her day, care for her and fuss over her in this way.

you support her on every step she takes and it sometimes genuinely makes her cry of joy.

oh, how she missed that feeling. she missed being a little girl in her mother’s arms.

sooner or later she'll definitely have a talk about this with Lucifer. a heavy one.

he's not happy with the whole situation at first, but still supports her feelings and urges to let her heart guide her.

she doesn't have to give up on her real mother to accept the found one, right?

she thinks of how your hands are so warm and welcoming. and how your eyes are so gentle when you look at her.

maybe... maybe it's okay to allow herself this happiness.

deeply nervous, yet somewhat exited, she'll come to you and ask if it's okay if she calls you “mom” sometimes.

and the warmth that spreads in her chest the moment your face lights up tells her that she made the right choice.

ooh, she wants to do so much stuff together now!! all things she was scared to allow herself before with you. go shopping, have little silly sleepovers in her and Vaggie’s room (you basically get two daughters for the price of one), draw each other, read books by roles, and go to Lu Lu Land of course! yaay, rides with hell's horses!!

she loves engaging in the silliest things. you gotta get used to this.

at one point Lucifer will come to have a talk with you. he sees how much genuinely happier and relaxed Charlie has become, and mostly now approves of your new role. still, he has to be sure you understand that he won't tolerate it if you hurt her.

“you're taking care of my little girl? Ỳ̴̲͈̻̒͊o̷̬̗̙̦͒́̇̂ͅŮ̸͍̺͝ ̵̣͎̼̖̝̞̋̒̃̾͋͘B̷͔̹́̐̉͌̚E̶̼̺͗͋͛̌̕t̵̛̛̜̮́͛͆Ṯ̵̡̢͉͕͉͇̋̈̋̏͝͠e̸͍͖̅͐̐̂́̊̊̌́ͅR̷̰͚̩̜̲͖͍̈́̓̃͗̐͆̀͐͘̕ͅ ̸͚̌̀͒̈̃̉̈́̃̋̕b̵̯̥͓̦̺͈̫̑É̷̩̤͕͈̂̂͒̕͠͝ 👹” basically.

don't worry, if there's ever some little dispute between you and Charlie, he won't just kill you for it on the spot. probably.

(the man will develop some soft feelings for you, so really. it's fine. he can't help, but be fond of someone who Charlie adores so much.)

Charlie will want a new portrait with you and her together to hang inside the Hotel.

just choose the place and pose, and a painter will be ready to start! you two can also drag Vaggie with you for this one.

maybe even Lucifer, too? or you can have a separate one with all four of you.

ah, what a nice family.

congratulations, now you're practically a new Queen of Hell, but by adoption of the Princess, instead of a marriage with the King.

although it only serves as a matter of teasing by other staff/patrons of the Hotel, still, kinda cool.

long live the Queen and her adorable loving daughter!

[thelunarsystemwrites]

AgereTale.

(An undertale AU all about agere, petre, etc!)

After monsters were sealed underground, many fell into despair. They all had to grow up and face the reality—They'd never be free again.

It was dull, a hopeless and bland land. Monster children were forced to give up their childhoods to help research a way out, and the adults were stressed out of their minds.

Everything was so tense, so serious...

Until a human fell.

The human was a teen, messy brown hair with fair skin and soft pink eyes. Rosey cheeks and stress visible on their face.

Chara.

Their son Asriel found them, and brought them home. The human... acted childish, after they awoke. At first it confused the royal family, but not necessarily... made them feel bad?

No, no... if anything, it awakened a new sort of emotion in them.

Care, they wanted to care for them.

The human's SOUL was a soft pink, the same colour as their eyes. It had a warm glow.

Wonderous. It had the trait of Wonder.

And from that day forward,monster kind was shown a new way to cope.

Age regression, or dreaming. Petre as well, along with their caregivers. There suddenly wasn't such a rush to grow up, and everyone seemed more than happy to exist while enjoying the joys of youth.

Years went on, and while progress on a way to break the barrier was slow. It was much easier to handle, now that they had some sort of escape.

Extra lore under cut!

In AgereTale, age regression/dreaming, pet regression/dreaming, caregiving—It's all very much normalized! Shops that carry baby supplies also keep adult/teen sized little/middle gear!

Another thing, Monsters have hearts on their face, each meaning a different role!

Pink means the monster is an Age regressor!

Blue means the monster is a Pet regressor!

Purple means the monster is an Age dreamer!

Green means the monster is a pet Dreamer!

And yellow means they're a caregiver/babysitter!

Monsters can have all five at once, or a mixture of various colours!

The hearts come and go as suited. So a monster that recently became a caregiver will have a yellow heart appear on their face!

Here's an example of having all five hearts, like Papyrus!

Also, the fallen human Frisk is a teen as well! And they also have the pink trait, Wonder!

@zombiestar1934 figured you'd wanna see the Paps drawing!

And yes, this is a Canon part of the UTMV Agereverse! ^^

[transformersandturtles]

Thought I’d share this WIP I don’t think I’ll ever finish which makes me sad cause I really liked drawing it, I just lost motivation after the base colors. I detailed the face and that’s about it. :(

Anyway redraw & original drawing under the cut.

CW for mild(?) robot gore, lots of (poorly drawn) eyes

This was meant for Halloween this year 💀. Last year I saw a TFA Season 4 Cancelled horror AU (IM SO UPSET I CANT FIND THE OP FOR IT. WILL UPDATE THIS WHEN I DO!!) and it really inspired me to draw Blitzwing more last year. And I did. Very poorly albeit lmao. Here is the OG drawing I made last year for Halloween (2023)

Again the redraw was still a WIP and I liked both drawings, especially at the time when I made the 2023 but seeing both of these drawings next to each other makes me happy to see the progress I’ve made over the year. ( IM SO MAD I FORGOT RANDOM & HOTHEADS FRECKLES IN THE REDRAW SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!!!) I so so so so so so so so love Blitzwing and he deserves to be happy but I love the fucked up horror that can come with him. He so needs therapy my little blorbo love.