#doodled several sweater boys ;)

[defectiveferalfreak]

lazy sweater weather ;)

#invader zim #iz zim #iz dib #dib membrane #doodled several sweater boys ;) #zadf #zadr #perhaps most zadrish thing i drew on account of them holding hands on third one lol

[sehtoast]

Satisfy Me (Homelander x Reader PowerSwap!AU)

18+ | 3.4k, stalking, masturbation, mostly mutual masturbation, graphic violence, powerswap au, gender neutral reader | Fic Directory

Ask Prompt: Non supe hl x HL reader. Like the reader has his powers, and he's just a regular guy.

You find him by chance. Could've been any of those little ants down on 36 assigned to your old suit's preservation, but it was him. 

What an ordinary fellow he was, too, running around in those little blue sweaters over his dress shirts, his soft box-dye-blonde hair, those pretty blue eyes behind dark framed glasses. It drove you nuts, but that was the best part. 

John was the best part. 

You fixated on him from the moment you saw how he handled a literal part of you, how he touched your suit with care and grace, expressed how much of an honor it was to be picked to take care of you. 

And you? You were bigger than life itself! The fucking Homelander, for crying out loud. Of course he should be honored to preserve and maintain your old suit; it's you for fuck’s sake. So why was it that his anxious little demeanor was so endearing to you?  What was it that made his promise to keep something of yours in tip-top shape turn him into the center of your attention?

Why did you find yourself lingering on 36 far more often? Going down with the excuse of wanting to see progress on the display, but really just wanting to see him, talk to him, learn about him. 

Your gloved hand on his shoulder makes him nervous. You can hear his heart beat as quickly as a hummingbird’s wings as he glances up at you. His cortisone spikes, but not in the wrong way. You rile him up. 

It's adorable. 

You begin to watch him. You follow him along the route of the subway, trail him from his stop to the school where he picks up his son, then to his apartment. You float up at the same pace that they ascend the stairs until you're lingering outside the window to his bedroom, watching him sleep. 

This becomes your routine, and god help anyone who tries to take you away from it.  

You sneak in a few times when no one’s home. Roam between rooms, investigating every little piece of his life. You borrow a sip or several from the milk in the fridge, peek at the living room, investigate the bathroom. You learn the boy's name is Ryan from the little wooden letters mounted on the wall above his bed. There's not much of note in the kid's room save for action figures, lego sets, and a few stick figure doodles labeled ‘me and dad.’

John's room is where you have your fun. You start at his desk, sifting through papers and soon-to-be-due bills. You wiggle the mouse at his computer and find his desktop background to be a picture of himself and Ryan. You're almost offended that it's not a picture of you and all your star-spangled glory. 

Almost. There's better things to do than care about that. 

There's a closet full of clothes to run your fingers over, a drawer of underwear from which you can pick your new favorite keepsake.  You settle on a pair of dark red briefs, holding them to your nose to inhale deeply, groaning as the scent of him fills your lungs.  You make your way over to the nightstand where you find a drawer with a stroker and lube hidden inside a ball of paper towels.  You smirk and toy with it for a time, tongue jutting out to lave over the inside, hoping and praying that there’s even a drop of him left in there. 

And then there’s his bed, full of his scent.  You lay on it and press your face into his pillow, breathing in several deep, focused breaths.  Underneath a smell that is so uniquely him, you find a hint of something woodsy and herbal.  It tickles your nose sweetly but you focus more on his natural aroma than that of his products. You want to stay more than anything. You’re surrounded by him in every sense of the word. All of your senses are bombarded by parts of him; the only thing missing is the man himself.

You roll on your back, eyes shut as you picture what it would look like to gaze up at him from that angle.  How he’d look leaning above you, sweat on his brow as he drives into you over and over and over again… How he’d pant and gasp, exerting himself just to please you, just to pump you full of his love and devotion.

God, you hadn’t even realized you’d snaked your hand into your pants during the fantasy.  You shut your eyes and continue anyway.

Your mind wanders back to him. You’d touched yourself to the thought of him quite a few times, but doing it in his bed?

Delicious…

You imagine wrapping your legs around him, featherlight lest you crush his pelvis.  You roll him, straddling his waist as you come down hard on his cock.  Beneath you is where he looks best.  Squirming and panting, hips thrusting to meet you in desperate, sloppy motions.  You’d be so good to him, too.  You’d ride his cock until he saw stars, until the only word that could come out of his mouth is your name…  

You’d let him pump you full of however many loads that pitiful, human body of his could muster, until you’re dripping with his come and he’s yours inside and out.

Maybe you’d mark him up, too.  Leave some handprints at his hips, some bite marks where he’s soft… Wouldn’t be hard… Wouldn’t take much to mar that perfect skin with your claim of ownership.  Some hickeys at his inner thighs, maybe an extra special one right where his cock meets his groin.

Your salacious fantasies come to a head at the same time as your pleasure.  You grind against your hand as you picture what it’d be like to milk his cute little cock.  Suck him dry, watch him beg and plead, let him squeeze your head with his legs as if he could possibly make you stop.  You’d eat up every ounce of him and spit it back in his mouth.  Make him go down on you with a mouthful of his own come.

“Oh, fffuck!” You howl, writhing on his bed, fist gripping and pressing his blanket to your nose. Your underwear are soaked, but you couldn’t care less.  Not as you pant heavy breaths, your body blissful and surrounded by him.

You linger for quite a while, only breaking away for your regularly scheduled visit with him. 

You had asked for a lesson about The Federalist Era - not that you really gave a shit beyond getting to consume his time. John was all too excited at your sudden interest and he offered to stay late just for you. Ryan would be with his mother, as was the case for every Friday to Sunday, and he’d have nothing but time for you. 

He meets you in your penthouse with a textbook and it's everything you've got not to devour him whole. He’s so precious.  You keep your gloves off, brushing your fingers over his as you point to parts of the text you ‘didn't get.’ You do everything in your power to keep him red and blushing.  You scoot closer, hover in his space, lean over his shoulder.  You practically eye-fuck him every time you look at him.  You toy with him all night until he finishes his lesson.

He stays for another hour just for the hell of it. Just to spend time with you. It's not until he's yawning that he entertains the idea of heading home. 

“Why don't you let me fly you?” You offer, smirking at how he deeply he flushes. 

“Oh, I mean... I don't- I just-” He stammers. “I’m just a little scared of heights, you know?” 

You scoff a laugh at his confession, taking him by the hand and leading him to your balcony. He doesn't resist you whatsoever. 

“C'mon, Johnny! I won't let anything happen to ya!” You wrap your arms around his waist and begin to hover. You whisper in his ear, “I'll protect you,” and you can feel the way he shivers before nodding.

His arms wrap around your neck, textbook dangling from one hand as he presses himself against you. The higher you rise, the tighter he holds on. 

“Good boy.”  You breathe soft and low, thumb rubbing circles at his lower back.  “I’m a much better ride than the shit they got down there.”

He clings to you the whole way home, only realizing after you've dropped him off that you somehow know where he lives. 

You drive him wild. You stir a feeling in him that he hasn't had time to focus on in so long, and it's to your absolute pleasure that you get to linger and peer through his roof that night as he takes care of himself. 

John fucks his fist with reckless abandon, then his toy that he just can't help but imagine is your hole. You focus extra hard, trying to make your senses pick up on everything happening in that room.  You can smell the salt of his sweat, the pheromones in the air, the scent of his precum.  You hear every little gasp and moan, every groan that rattles out of his pretty little mouth.  The sound of lube squelching in his stroker riles you up so much more, and you’ve half a mind to burst through the fucking wall and mount him.  

You tease yourself in time with him, knelt on the roof so perfectly that no one could catch you.  You gaze through matter with hooded eyes to watch him, and it’s the most beautiful, tempting sight you’ve ever seen in your life.  You can’t remember a time you’ve been so fucking horny as you are right then.

He comes near violently, shouting, “H-Homelander!” as he does. Your eyes roll back and a quivering moan rips from your throat as you come apart with him.  He called your name.

He called your fucking name.

He’s already yours...

He works the next day for some overtime pay. Nothing stressful, just some extra document filing. You're preoccupied with filming away from the tower, much to your heavily expressed ire, and he's bored. 

He's bored for the whole day, wishing you'd come by.  He stays extra late, hoping beyond hope that you’ll meander in like you don’t actively choose to come down to such an insignificant level.  

But you don’t.

He’s thoroughly bummed out as he steps off the train, walking the rest of the way home in the dark.   He knows you didn’t forget about him; you’re just busy.  Even the world’s greatest superhero’s gotta take care of their commitments, right?  He’s deep in thought as he makes his way down the cold street.  The yellow glow of the streetlights sets a somber feeling deep in his heart as he shuffles further along, passing the occasional stranger, hands in his pockets.  He should’ve worn more than a sweater and a scarf.  He had no idea it was gonna be so chilly.  Or maybe he’s just so used to running hot after spending time around you.

God, had he really caught the attention of Homelander?  Like, really caught it?

He’s heard stories– god knows there’s enough to go around.  Was told by more than a few of his coworkers in the archives that it’s dangerous to even be around you.  That there was a good reason that the loneliest spot was always at the top.

He didn’t like that, though.  What he did like, however, was you.  The way you look at him as though he’s worth wanting.  You give him your full attention and fuck, you always come back.  It’s like he matters now.  He’s not just some orphan-turned-moderate-success trying to raise his son and keep from drowning under the oppressive cost of New York’s rent.  Well, he still is, but he’s all of that and he’s got the attention of The Homelander!

And he finds you sweet.  Like a big, scary dog that only likes him.  He wants to know more about you.  As much as he likes history, he’d love yours even more.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he neither sees nor hears the man sprinting up behind him to grab him by the scarf.  John chokes harshly as he’s dragged into an alley, kicking and thrashing to no avail.

He’s thrown on the ground and he wants to get back up, fight for what little good it’d actually do, but there’s a clicking sound directly in front of his face and–

He freezes.  Eyes go wide, skin chills far colder than the air alone could ever turn it.  A pit forms in his gut and oh god he’s fucking helpless.

“Empty yer fuckin’ pockets,” demands the gunman, motioning down with the barrel of the firearm.  He can barely see them as more than fuzzy silhouettes and he realizes that he’s lost his glasses.

He pulls his wallet and phone free shakily, laying them gently on the ground before raising his hands up in surrender.  He watches the man who grabbed him go through his wallet, and he hears a scoff.

“Twenn’y bucks?”  The man slurs exasperatedly.  “Yer life ain’t worth twenn’y, son.  Ah shit… we could sell ya!  I got a guy needs a good piece’a meat to throw ‘round in his dog fights.  Should see the way the mutts fight over fresh food.  Y’look like good bait.”

John blinks rapidly, eyes wide and panicked as each word settles in.  He tries to shuffle backward, but he’s grabbed by the ankle and yanked back.

“Bet he’d go for a few hundred.  He don’t stink.  Not a ton of meat on ‘im, but there’s enough,” the gunman muses.  “Shit, Gordy, we might as well.  Fuckin’ twenty bucks… Ain’t even worth the effort to–”

John hears a sound like fabric flapping, and suddenly everything goes silent.

Silent, until he hears you.

“Howdy ho, boys!”  You greet, though your tone couldn’t be further from inviting.  “Say, what’s got two idiot fucks like yourselves out tonight, eh?”

John pats at the ground, desperate to find his glasses. He needs to see this- needs to see you. His heart pounds in his ears so loudly that he can’t hear what the men say to you, only the sounds of shrill, agonized screaming.  Something warm splats against his cheek and a deep, unsettling feeling in his bones tells him that it’s blood.

“C’mon, boys!  It’s not that bad!”  He hears you chuckle, followed by a flash of red and more howls of pain.  “You guys! It’s not like I’m, oh, I dunno, feeding you to a pack of dogs?”

As he scrambles, he feels the cracked lenses of his glasses and puts them on in time to see just what you’d done.

His assailants kneel on the ground, their arms laying next to them. He swears he sees bones jutting out of their legs.  

You’re elbow deep in one’s chest, smiling sadistically with every crunch and squelch as you rip free a blood drenched length of bone and shreds of muscle.

His stomach should churn at the sight of you shoving the gunman’s body to the ground.  It folds in half without a spine to support it, and it’s objectively the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen. The other man whispers to himself, which must really piss you off.  He sees it in your eyes.  Yet, he’s not scared.  Not of you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya?”  You muse as you stare down at the man.

John can hear him reciting a prayer.

“God? No.”  You kneel down to pat his cheek, staining his skin a deep red.  “No god. The only one in the sky is me.”

He watches you wedge your hands into the man’s mouth, effortlessly ripping his jaw and head apart, splitting him down the length of his neck.

John watches in a mix of awe and horror as you continue tearing all the way down through the chest cavity.  There’s a sick look in your eyes.  Like you’d done this before.  

Like you were comfortable doing this.

So why the fuck wasn’t he afraid when your gaze flickered up to him?  Why did the shakes of his body quell the minute your blood stained hands reached down to loosen the scarf still tight from when he’d been dragged?

You’re drenched in blood.  The pungent liquid soaks you, drips down your collar and into your suit. It’s all over your face, coating your hair, resting thick on your eyelashes.

His hands come to settle at your cheeks, thumbs smoothing through the viscera as he gazes up at you in awe.  Your grip on his arms is featherlight at most, and he’s amazed.

You are a creature of unfathomable violence.  You have ripped and torn through an incalculable amount of flesh, committed sins far greater than even his mind full of historical horrors could imagine, and yet…

You hold him as though you’re afraid to break him.

Even as you gather him in your arms and fly away, you’re so gentle with him.  Considerate and kind, courteous and caring as you bring him home.  Your boots leave bloody prints across the hardwood floor of his bedroom as you walk him to the bathroom.  You’re on autopilot and that nagging voice in your mind berates you for prioritizing some simple mud person over yourself, over the thrill of the kill. 

“Are you hurt?”  You hear him ask, and it leaves you deeply confused.  Are you, The fucking Homelander, hurt?  Are you, indestructible force that you are, in pain?

He forces you to sit on the edge of the bathtub as he scrambles around for supplies.  You’re not sure why you let him move you around.  Hell, you’re not even sure why you let him wash the blood from you.  

Worse yet, you let him strip your upper body bare.

You let him see the truth of your suit and what you lack beneath.  You’ve got the power of a god, certainly, but you’re so regular underneath the facade. But you can’t find it in yourself to care as he wipes you clean with a warm, wet cloth.  Not with the way he holds the back of your head and removes the evidence of just how far your love for him will push you.

At some point your eyes lock and his hands stop moving.  

Time stills, but he does not.  He leans forward and takes you in a kiss so soft that you wonder if it even counts.  Just a peck at first, barely even a graze of his flesh against yours.  When you don’t pull away, he comes back, this time brushing his lips to yours with the slightest bit of pressure.  His lips are soft, his kisses unsure until you finally reciprocate.

Then?

Oh, then he devours you with a need fit to rival your own.  His arm wraps around your upper body and pulls you against him, all while your own hands scramble to grab at him.  Your breaths mingle together, fanning hot and heavy against each other.  He tastes blood on your lips, and you taste the remnants of his afternoon coffee.  The scent of iron mixed with him surrounds you, and god it is the most exquisite aroma. 

His taste, his scent, his touch, his sweet little gasps…

You want it all.

He pulls away once he, fragile human that he is, gets dizzy.  John giggles breathlessly against your mouth, tongue sliding over his lower lip to lap at your lingering taste.  You smile in return, indulging in something you’ve never quite felt before.  His hands still roam, and you’ve a pretty good idea of exactly where this night will end up once he’s got the rest of that pesky blood wiped from you. For now, though, you’re satisfied even if you’re not entirely satiated.

After all, you’ve truly proven yourself to be–

“My hero…”

#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #antony starr #the boys #this is hands down my most fav x reader to have written #this prompt was so fun

[anonymouspuzzler]

oh boy it's a BIG SFM doodle post!!! i call this compilation: Old Man Tweets A Lot

bonus close-ups on those little non-tweet doodles, too!

(detailed image descriptions under cut!)

[Image 1: A large compilation of several black-and-white illustrated Dr. Habit tweets, plus additional miscellaneous Smile For Me doodles. Each tweet and doodle is cut out and showcased individually in more detail in the rest of the post, with detailed descriptions below.]

[Image 2: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "But soft! What rock through yonder window breaks oh no Putunia stop right there put the rocks away", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, wearing a ringer t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans, is smiling with one eye cracked open to look down nervously at Putunia, who is grinning mischievously with a rock held up in her right hand, prepared to throw. Habit is sweating and cautiously reaching up both hands near the rock as if preparing to grab it.]

[Image 3: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Tip-tapping around the room WITH a little cape on, like a gosh-darn vampire", which is screenshotted towards the right side of the image. The drawing shows Habit in a long-sleeved button-up, black pants and heeled boots, wearing Putunia's cape, which is comically tiny on him. He is grinning mischievously, tip-toing and holding up his hands in mimicry of a stereotypical vampire. Putunia is chasing behind him, hands in the air, shouting.]

[Image 4: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "VERY small girl with a cape, just called me a 'walking cringe compilation'", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, in a short sleeved button-up with a chest pocket and rolled-up sleeves, long pants and a belt with an oval buckle, standing with one hand on his hip and the other gesturing down at Putunia to his left, who smirking mischievously with her tongue sticking out. Habit looks lightly irritated, visibly blushing. In front of them both in the foreground is Kamal, looking down at Putunia and visibly trying to restrain laughter.]

[Image 5: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Oh okay so when a princess kisses a frog it's 'a charming film' but when I do it I'm 'ruining our day at the petting zoo?' How is that fair to me?", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. In the drawing Habit, wearing an open jacket with fluffy collar and sleeves over a sweater, hair in a ponytail, is gesturing wildly with one hand and the other on his hip, shouting indignantly. Kamal, to his right, wearing an open hoodie over a sweater, is covering his face with both hands, looking flustered and embarrassed. To Habit's right is Putunia, in a cute little cardigan, grimacing and sticking out of her tongue at Habit, holding a mildly alarmed-looking frog in her hands.]

[Image 6: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Watch this backflip! *does not successfully backflip*", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. There are two drawings of Habit, both wearing a ringer t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, flared jeans, and heeled boots. The first, on the left, shows him smiling and shouting, stance wide, gesturing at himself with both thumbs. The second shows him having resolutely failed to land a backflip, slamming onto his upper back, legs still flying in the air and visibly shaking with the impact, shirt riding up on his torso and hair flying everywhere.]

[Image 7: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "I just wanted free lasagna and now I have a computer virus?? Why am I being punished", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, in a ringer t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, looking extremely worried and yelling, with tears in his right eye. He is clutching a 90s-era computer monitor to his chest with both hands, the screen facing out, showing numerous pop-up and error windows.]

[Image 8: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "40+ singles in MY area? Looking for love?", screenshotted towards the top-left of the image, then, cut off and screenshotted towards the right, "Well that's nice I hope they find it (smiley face)". There are two drawings for each part of the tweet - the first, to the left, shows Habit in a collared button-up under a sweater, sitting at a computer looking at the monitor in confusion, head tilted and right pointer finger lifted towards his face. Kamal is walking by in the background, looking startled. The second drawing flips perspectives to show Habit from behind, smiling happily, while in the foreground Kamal walks away, blushing and looking somewhat haunted, with an arrow pointing to him reading "suddenly remembering to clear search history".]

[Image 9: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Why... Yes I WOULD like to put on our silly little outfits to go to the grocery store and look at lobsters", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. The drawing shows Kamal, wearing a baggy t-shirt, holding a notepad in his left hand and a pen in the other. Habit, wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, is behind him, with his right hand on Kamal's shoulder and the left cradling his face. He is bent over so the side of his face rests on top of Kamal's head, with a relaxed, closed-eye smile. Kamal is looking up at him and smiling back.]

[Image 10: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "due to personal reasons I'm hand stuck in the mayonnaise jar", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. The drawing shows Kamal in the foreground, turning around to see Habit, wearing a ringer t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, left hand stuck in a mayonnaise jar, with the other hand on his chest and expression serious, as if he were making an important announcement.]

[Image 11: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "'Just stretching my legs!!' I lie, embarrassed that you've discovered me stuck in the washing machine once again", which is screenshotted at the top of the image. The drawing shows Kamal, wearing a ringer t-shirt, in the foreground with his back facing the camera, holding a basket of laundry. In front of him is Habit, also wearing a ringer t-shirt, apparently stuck in the laundry machine, sticking out of the round front-facing door from the waist up. He has a slightly manic grin as if desperately trying to act natural, posing with one elbow on the ground, hand behind his head, and the other bent to rest on his hip.]

[Image 12: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "*slipping the waiter a four dollar bill* Mix my salad WITH my coffee thank you very much". The drawing shows Kamal (left, sitting in a chair) and Habit (right, sitting in a booth seat) at a table, apparently at a restaurant. There is a waiter standing between them, writing on a notepad held in their left hand; they are wearing a vest and long-sleeved button-up and have a short haircut with long bangs on the right side of their face. Habit, wearing a long-sleeved button-up, is smiling confidently at the waiter, tongue sticking out, as he slides a bill across the table towards the waiter. Kamal, visibly flustered, is hiding behind a menu held in both hands, with his elbows propped up on the table.]

[Image 13: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "What's your favorite thing about me don't lie (angry frowny face)", which is screenshotted at the top right of the image. The drawing shows Kamal, wearing a t-shirt and holding a toothbrush in his left hand, looking startled as shadow-Habit suddenly looms up behind him.]

[Image 14: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Pilot the Puppet, Kamal. Or Boris will have to do it again.", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, wearing a bulky sweater, flared pants and heeled boots, lying back on a couch with his legs over one of the arms. His left arm is folded over his torso while the right holds up puppet-Habit; he has his head turned away into the sofa, left eye cracked open, apparently "playing dead". Kamal is standing behind the couch, staring down at Habit with an amused expression as puppet-Habit caresses his cheek.]

[Image 15: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweets (transcribed minus spelling errors) "Anyone else eat their smoothie by dipping their entire hand in the cup and licking it off?", screenshotted on the top left of the image, and the follow-up "The people love when I post Relatable Content", screenshotted towards the right. There is a drawing for each tweet; the first shows Habit, hair in a ponytail and wearing a frilly tank top that exposes his stomach, speaking nonchalantly into a flip phone in his right hand, dunking his left into a smoothie held in Kamal's right hand. Kamal, also wearing a tank top and holding a second smoothie in his left, stares at this in horror. The second drawing shows Habit licking the smoothie off his hand with a smug grin, with a speech bubble coming out of the phone showing a bunch of heart symbols and smiley faces. Kamal, still holding both smoothies, just looks up at Habit in continued horror and disbelief.]

[Image 16: A black-and-white illustrated version of the Habit tweets (transcribed minus spelling errors) "At the parent teacher conference. Trying to keep a straight face and not to let on that I have a half-dozen angry squirrels nesting in my hair", screenshotted towards the top left of the image, and the follow-up, "It's not my fault that I am naturally charismatic and also I style my hair with peanut oil", screenshotted towards the right. There is a drawing for each tweet; the first shows Habit, left, and Kamal, right, both sitting in front of a teacher's desk in the foreground. Habit is wearing a short-sleeved button-up with a large tie, flared pants and heeled boots, sitting with right leg crossed over his left and hands clasped tightly over his knee. He has a tight smile and nervous expression, visibly shaking, with a few squirrels peeking out of his hair. Kamal is wearing a short-sleeved button-up under an argyle sweater vest, with baggy pants and sneakers. He is holding a paper in his right hand, the left resting on his knee, and looking over at Habit in concern. The second image shows a frustrated-looking Kamal shoving both arms into Habit's hair to try and shake out the squirrels, who are jumping out in all directions. Habit is flailing his limbs and yelling as this happens.]

[Image 17: A colored, illustrated version of the Habit tweet (transcribed minus spelling errors) "I care about you and. I hope you can tell", which is screenshotted at the top left of the image. The drawing shows Habit, seen from behind, wearing a light-blue long-sleeve button up and dark pants, crouched over Kamal, who has fallen asleep on the couch. Kamal is wearing a baggy green t-shirt and is lying on his stomach, left arm dangling off the couch holding a stack of papers, the right partially underneath him, bent at the elbow, hand resting limply over his face. There is a blue pillow behind him on the sofa. Habit is gently drawing a dark blue blanket over him, looking down at his peacefully slumbering expression.]

[Bonus 1: A black and white drawing of Kamal and Habit, both from roughly the shoulders-up. Habit, on the right, has Kamal in a tight embrace and is kissing him gently on the cheek. Kamal looks utterly lovestruck, with a wobbly smile, the eye closest to Habit closed and the other blown open with a big heart-shaped pupil, and two big heart symbols coming off him in the background.]

[Bonus 2: A black and white drawing of Kamal, wearing a short-sleeved button-up and smiling mildly anxiously, glancing off to his left side, standing with his mom to his right. Kamal-mom has an identical face-shape and nose and a similar build, though she stands about an inch or two taller than her son. She has long, wavy grey hair in a braid that falls over her right shoulder, with bangs on the left side of her face. She is wearing large cat-eye glasses that hide her eyes, a turtleneck sweater, and an open sleeveless cardigan over the sweater. She has simple round earrings, a necklace with two round charms, and a simple nose stud. She has a neutral smile with wrinkles visible around the edges and under her eyes.]

[Bonus 3: A black and white drawing of Habit holding up Putunia with both hands. Habit is wearing a long-sleeved button-up and has a big, slightly worried smile, exposing the gaps and chips in his teeth. Putunia is kicking her legs out and holding up both fists, and has a delighted, open-mouthed grin, exposing her own missing teeth.]

[Bonus 4: A black and white drawing of Kamal, posing with one hand on his hip and the other on his chin, one knee slightly bent, smirking confidently. He is wearing suit pants and a matching, open jacket with only his binder underneath, as well as heeled boots. The pants have flared, frilly edges and a belt with a round decorative buckle, with the jacket has embroidered cuffs and hem.]

[Bonus 5: A black and white drawing of Kamal with his hair in a ponytail, tilting his head to one side with a wide, silly smile, sticking his tongue out. He is wearing a v-neck shirt with the sleeves rolled up past the elbow, with the cut low enough to expose a bit of chest hair.]

#smile for me #kamal bora #boris habit #putunia mollar #habismal #anonymous puzzler art #long post #turns out habit tweets are extremely good for quick doodles that let me test out expressions and character dynamics #here's hoping the old man tweets more so i can draw more hehehe

[phantom-rats]

send help dear lord

[Image ID: The first image is a collection of sketches of Wally Darling from Welcome Home and my Welcome Home self-insert. In the upper left is a sketch of Wally staring at the viewer intensly, stating "I know what you are." In the upper right is a sketch of Wally with his hand on my self-instert's shoulder, talking absentmindedly. My self-insert is looking at him lovingly, listening to him ramble. In the middle is a sketch of my self-insert looking nervous and overwhelmed, shaking their fists in front of him. He recites a post that states "i want him so bad im gonna throw up i literally am going to explode if i can't have this boy like its genuinely life or death i need him i need him i need him i need him i can't breath make it stop please i want him", in reference to Wally. On the bottom is a sketch of Wally staring intensely and lovingly at my self-insert, with an arrow pointing towards him with text reading "STARES." My self-insert is glancing away nervously, blushing, with an arrow pointing towards him with text that reads "Nervous about eye contact". The second image is a sketch of Wally Darling and my self-insert. Wally is hugging my self-insert from behind, resting his head on top of theirs and ruffling their hair with his right hand. His left arm is wrapped around them. My self-insert looks nervous and lovestruck, patting Wally's arm with their left hand. Wally's head is surrounded by several small hearts. The third image is a reference doodle of my self-insert. They have short brown hair, pale skin, a small pink nose, and thick eyebrows. They are wearing a pink heart-shaped earrings, white undershirt, a pink bow tie, a pink sweater vest with a grid pattern and a small heart contained within every other square, pink heart-shaped cufflinks, brown slacks, white and pink striped socks, and dark brown loafers. END ID]

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #self shipping #self ship #selfship #selfship art #welcome home oc #mlm selfship

[jackobbit]

The evil bois remind me of my dumb ass friend group, you got the 2 idiots that would cause chaos every chance they get, the smart one that has to make sure no one dies and the clueless one who is there mainly for moral support /pos

Love those kinds of friend groups! Reminds me of that meme where it’s the person holding one-two folks on a child leash.

So have a recreation of that with the E.V.I.L. fellas! It’s not colored bc I am. Tired lmao

[ID: A digitally drawn, colorless doodle of characters from the Working for E.V.I.L. Au wearing child safety leashes held by Eclipse, the image has a white background color. To the far left is Bloodmoo, a circular headed animatronic who has devil horns, two tails, and wears a twin tailed jester hat. He wears an alternative outfit with several belts and chains adorning it. He stands with his arms out and his knees bent, he wears a mischievous expression. Above him is text that says ‘about to commit crimes’. To the far right is Solar Flare, a boxy robot with bent sun-like rays and blocky limbs, they are seen walking off to the right, next to them is text that reads ‘wandering off’. In the upper right hand corner is KillCode, an incredibly tall, circular headed animatronic with long limbs, blades stem from their forearms. She wears puffy pants and a long nightcap. Next to him is text that says ‘just happy to be here’ as she smiles. In the center of the image is Eclipse holding the leashes that connect to every other character, he wears a tired expression. Eclipse is a circular headed animatronic with Sun-like rays that decorate the circumference of his head, he wears a long lab coat, a turtleneck sweater, and a rope necklace that has a Star hanging from it. Next to him is text that says ‘Tired’. /End ID]

#asks #working for e.v.i.l. au #working for e.v.i.l. bloodmoon #working for e.v.i.l. eclipse #working for e.v.i.l. solar flare #working for e.v.i.l. KillCode #my art

[gooopy]

Look at my oc boy

[Image id: several drawings of an original character. He is a fat man named teddy with large round glasses and mid length hair that parts in the middle. The first image shows him facing forward. He looks distressed and is holding a camera and is saying "ermm hes right behind me isnt he..." behind him is a small drawing of soldier, rocket jumping and saying in small text "ONE MILLION ROCKET AMBUSH ATTACK"

The next image is a ref, showing teddy in colorm he is wearing a green sweater vest and is holding a bottle of water in one hand and some red string in the other. In the corner is a small doodle of him saying "whats wrong with this place" with an exasperated expression.

The next images are a small comic. Forst shows teddy looking up with concern and horror. The next shows him from behind, standing before a towering trash fire. The last image has him writing in a diary, saying "dear diary. Theres a massive trash fire just outside my apartment. Nobody cares????" End image id]

Hes just some fucking guy. He worked at binski paper (red affiliated sub-company) but got laid off, and whilst trying to find another job, he started to figure out just how much red and blu controlled as companies. Moving to a new place for work, he finds himself in teufort and a) learns that these people are fucked up and b) gets to be suspicious as to why the companies need to be fighting for no reason.

So he does some snooping. Takes some pictures and reads some books and does some snooping to try and figure out whats going on. This probably does not end well for him, what with him trundling around trying to snoop on the mercenaries business, but what matters is that hes funny and that hes lame and that hes in yaoi about fucked up men.

#ocs #tf2 ocs #described #i have been thinking about him a lot teddys awesome #teddy #hes lame. he tries to climb up a chainlink fence and falls off #then he goes to the store and buys chaincutters because he is NOT gonna climb thay shit #he gets a giant conspiracy board with red and blue string and everything #also i specifically picked binski paper because theres also binski logging (blu) which he would find odd #he sucks hes lame hes awesome he needs ti be beat up #tf2 #<- guess i should put that tag there too?

[cmdonovann]

quantum break appreciation month: a quick retrospective

so, first of all, wow, it was WAY more effort than i thought to just POST SOMETHING EVERY DAY. i put a lot of pressure on myself to only post The Good Stuff to this blog, and boy golly is my standard of "good stuff" higher than it ought to be! so this has been great practice for me in "finished is better than perfect."

second of all, i wanna put together a quick rundown of everything i did this month!

Announcement post

April 1st: My Bleeding Clock (My Immortal AU) fanfic for April Fool's Day

April 2nd: Playlist to go with My Bleeding Clock

April 3rd: Sketch of 2010!Beth

April 4th: Sketch of Jack and Beth

April 5th: Reblogged my old post about last year's anniversary zine, as well as a new little sketch to celebrate the 7th anniversary of the game's release

April 6th: Doodle of Beth in a skirt (with pockets!)

April 7th: I literally just posted a passage I like from the QB:ZS novel

April 8th: Started posting old art... completed set of the halo series here!

April 9th: More old art (Jack/Paul this time)

April 10th: More old art, LNEHH edition

April 11th: More old art, Will Joyce edition

April 12th: Some Jack/Paul art to celebrate me and my husband's anniversary :3c

April 13th: QUANTUM BREAK HOMESTUCK AU!!!

April 14th: Surprise! it's even more old Jack/Paul art!

April 15th: Wow! I can't believe it's more Jack/Paul art!

April 16th: Apparently I was busy this day because I just reblogged LNEHH, lol

April 17th: Quantum Break characters, but as Skyrim characters

April 18th: Some blinkie gifs I made using blinkies.cafe

April 19th: A sweater I made using the linocut stamps from last year's anniversary zine

April 20th: Another blinkie gif, hehe

April 21st: Meta post about color palettes and color usage in Quantum Break

April 22nd: A little QB divider I made for my fansite (WIP)

April 23rd: Some terrible glitter gifs, also for the WIP fansite

April 24th: Minecraft skins of a bunch of QB characters!

April 25th: I was also apparently busy this day, cuz all I did was make a stupid phone background for myself XD

April 26th: Took a swing at pixel art

April 27th: A promo for the Quantum Break Discord Server I run!

April 28th: Wrote another chapter of My Bleeding Clock...

April 29th: Art of Jack and Paul :3

April 30th: Started a new longfic: The Symmetry of Fear!

holy shit. that's a lot. i am retroactively impressed with my past self for doing all this, lmao. nice.

third of all! i wanna note that i started several projects this month that i have yet to finish. of course i'm not confining my quantum break posting to one month of the year (impossible) but i will take my time finishing the... uh... three fics and two meta essays i have unfinished, as well as the fansite i am working on. i want these to be GOOD, so i'm not going to rush them. i'm glad this month gave me to juice to finally get these projects started, though!

and lastly... why did i even do this project/event in the first place?

well... good question. i imagine i'm not the only one who has been Going Through It for a while now, and i just... really needed a big project to focus on for a while. and quantum break is like, one of the only things that i never get tired of thinking about, so... are you seeing my logic here?

all that said, i do genuinely want to work on putting more love out into the world. and i love quantum break! i want other people to love it too! (or at least, i want other people to look at my passion for it and be like "i dont go here but you keep doing your funky little thing my man," you know what i mean?)

so, big thanks to everyone who has encouraged me this month, whether it be in reblog tags, in the quantum break discord server, or elsewhere. also, big thanks to my husband, who i would not have married if not for our mutual obsession with quantum break, and who is always down to listen to me talk about my various theories and fic ideas. and finally, a big thanks to remedy, for making this dumb game that i love so so so much.

#quantum break #quantum break appreciation month #thanks yall for putting up with my qb posting seriously #i know thats not what most of yall are here for #but thanks for humoring me anyway! #i WILL make more people love this game so help me god

[daily-dipcifica-doodles]

What career choice do you see Pacifica taking when she's older? I could see her being a lawyer, real estate or even Mable clothing business partner with the company selling all kinds of sweaters.

oooh boy you made a mistake asking me that cause i'm gonna have so much to say JJDFJFDSKL

don't fret, this WILL include doodles, I'm a doodle sideblog it's my thing ✨

also dipper is gonna be included in little bits of this thing here and there cause dipcifica blog, par for the course 👍

sorry in advance, love!💖

ok SO

when thinking about careers for the kids, including mabel, i try to think about what their goals seem to be in canon vs their talents

for pacifica, her goal is clearing up her family name and her talents are... quite a few for her age. she's charismatic, she has an eye for fashion, she's great at golf though i severely doubt she'd be interested in that as a career, and she probably has a decent amount of knowledge on legality and things in that vein considering who her parents are and what they deal in

she could be an actress, a lawyer, a fashion designer, a model... lotta options there JFDDS

for dipper, his goal is... well he doesn't quite have one tbh. neither him nor mabel lol

we know what he likes! he really loves mysteries, he likes singing (as shy as he is about it) and has a decent voice imo, he's pretty charismatic as well when he feels comfortable and confident in himself, and he's a very analytical guy

but none of those things are a goal per say, and they could all branch off into multiple career paths: archaeologist, adventurer, scientist, novelist, detective...

different circumstances could also change his career path very easily because of his not very solid goal - provided he has enough motive, he could absolutely pull a stan and exploit the supernatural for monetary gain, if something happens to his family or pacifica that would require an easy way to make a lot of money

there's a LOT of ways to decide for dipper and they're all centered around what kind of story one would like to tell lmao

anyway, onto pacifica's options!!

careers for her would depend on how she wants to approach clearing up her family name i'd say?

if she were to decide to become a well-accomplished person so that her family name would be cleared because of how great and well-known she was, she could pursue acting tbh?

there's a lot of things she could do but idk i feel like she could be a great actress if she wanted to be

that or a politician, but i don't think she's interested in the mess that would bring lol, that's more within her father's line of interests

the nice thing about her being an actress is her bringing dipper to all the galas and premieres and stuff and him not knowing how exactly to act in that situation (of course, assuming he didn't pick a career that has him deal with large crowds of people daily - he'd already be used to it in that scenario)

hence: doodle

now, if pacifica were to decide that the best way to clear up her family name would be to take all legal matters into her own hands and go about that very literally, she'd absolutely become a lawyer or something in that vein

this could lead to a lot of sleepless nights especially while she's studying to be a lawyer, so - many fluff and flangst options there ;)

aaand that's all I have on Pacifica rn - it's 5 am so my brain's a lil mush

anyway sorry for the rambling, you activated the essayist in me 😔

i'm very talkative despite how it might seem JDFSKLSD w h o o p s

have a great day! ✨💖

#gravity falls #pacifica northwest #dipper pines #doodles #dipifica #dipcifica #dipper x pacifica #asks

[xoxopeter]

My first mutual! Can i request Peter walking in on you playing guitar and singing and he didnt know you could sing???? And he’s floored???? Thanks!! 🥺 - justnotforbread🕸🍞

A/N: thank you for this request I loved every second of writing this! Hope you like it!

Beautiful Stranger

Y/N was someone who was naturally very artistic and creative. Classes would be spent by drawing little doodles in her notebook or on whatever piece of paper was on her desk at the time. Teachers would often discourage it, knowing it meant that she hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She took art as her elective several times over even though she had been encouraged by school counselors to branch out and try other things. She always customized whatever she could to her liking, especially the things she wore on her body. Her room had been a wall of posters and art she made and photos of things she liked and people she looked up to.

She had a notebook full of little thoughts she had and poems of all kinds. There were some poems about her parents and some about whatever boy she was crushing on at the time and some about how hard life was. It wasn’t until her later teen years that she started writing songs.

They were purely for her and used as her own creative outlet as well as a form of therapy. The navy blue notebook that she kept these songs in was buried in her backpack and hidden under the mattress, never wanting her parents to find it.

It wasn’t until she was nineteen and moved out that she picked up her first guitar at a small thrift store. It was older and had more than likely seen quite a few hands but she was drawn to it. Her little song writing hobby could become a song making hobby and she could do something with the dozens of songs she had written over the years.

Learning how to play had been harder than she thought it would be but she persisted, spending nights playing the same three chords over and over again until she had them down to a muscle memory. Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water had been the first song she learned and was able to play without messing up once and that fueled her to persist with the goal of being able to craft her own song.

Months later and she was sitting on her bed, making her own music and writing down the chords as she went so she wouldn’t forget. More songs came after that and she kept them in the same navy blue notebook she’d had for years that was specifically reserved for songs lyrics, and now the music to go along with those lyrics.

Singing was something she enjoyed as well. She knew she could hold a tune but she didn’t think she was the best singer or anything, and it didn’t matter. She sang for herself so to her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t amazing. It wasn’t like American Idol was in her future dreams. So she never sang in front of anyone except her childhood cat who happened to be in the room when she was singing.

There had been a couple years that she went into a lull and didn’t write as many songs as she once had, especially not after her guitar was stolen when her apartment was broken into while she was at school one day.

Then she met Peter Parker.

Peter with those eyes that reminded her of fall leaves and warm sweaters and baked goods and his hugs that made her feel like she was stepping out into the sunlight and the way he called her sweetheart in the middle of the night when he was getting into bed after patrol and she was half awake and welcoming him into their bed. Peter with his desperate need to do good and a hero complex that was so strong it put the weight of the world on his shoulders. Peter who kissed the tip of her nose when it was red from the northern cold and woke up early before her to make her coffee for her so that it would be ready when she woke up and always let her have the last Oreo.

Peter Parker had y/n writing songs again. They ranged from the way he made her wanna crack her chest open for him and give him her heart and how he was like a sun drop that slipped from the sun itself to light up her world and how his pleasurable touch made her wonder if that was what dying felt like. Some got specific like the one titled His Jacket about the night they went out and she didn’t bring a jacket but got cold and he gave her his green one. It had been far too big on her and the sleeves went past her hands but it was so warm and smelled like him. It made her feel oddly safe even though he was right next to her and she hadn’t wanted to take it off. When he wasn’t home she would sometimes wear it and just feel so warm and safe. Some weren’t as specific and more about their relationship in a broad sense, going on about how they would sometimes just look at one another and know what the other was feeling. Some of the songs were proper songs with three verses and three choruses and some were quite short with just a short verse and a chorus and a repeat of the chorus once more before ending.

It was late February when y/n got her tax refund and she eagerly made her way to the pawn shop down the street after work, buying a used acoustic before heading home to the empty apartment. Peter had plans to go on patrol right after his work day was done due to a serial rapist who had started upstate and in the last few days made his way down to the city. It had kept Peter up at night. She was worried about him but trusted Spider-Man to make sure Peter Parker came home to her every night.

As soon as she was home she was grabbing her notebook and fishing a new pick out of the pack she had just bought and made a workspace out of the living room floor, notebook out and open.

The feeling of the strings on her fingertips was so familiar but still a little out of place. It was like visiting somewhere that you once frequented but hadn’t been there in years so it felt different yet the same all at once.

Forming the song only took a couple hours or so before she was running through her first play through. It took a few more run-through's before she felt comfortable with the order of the chords.

After a short break to get a drink and make dinner, she was sitting back down and putting the acoustic back in her lap, pick between her fingers. She knew it was getting late but she felt like she was just getting started and she knew Peter wouldn’t be home for a while longer.

Peter landed gently on the fire escape, not wanting to wake y/n if she was already asleep. It wasn’t very late but she was known to have early nights and be out by ten so on nights that he didn’t know if she was asleep already he was extra quiet.

Slipping in through the unlocked bedroom window, he found their room empty but he had already heard her moving around in their living room when he started opening the window. Sliding past the curtain, he was in the bedroom and closed and locked the window behind him before taking off his mask.

He had had an early night, catching the upstate rapist much earlier in his shift. He had been trying to catch the guy for the last week and finally got him before he could ruin another woman's life. He felt relief in knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed that night wondering if the serial rapist was out there and hurting someone. Spider-Man had made New York a safer place for at least tonight and that would grant Peter a good night's sleep- if just for tonight.

As Peter was heading to leave the room, he heard the strum of a guitar and stopped, listening and wondering why he was hearing a guitar. He only counted one heartbeat so it wasn’t someone else playing. It had to be y/n.

The strum turned into a song and he took the remaining steps to be able to see out into the living room past the corner. Y/N was sitting on the floor with an acoustic guitar in her lap, looking down at it and fingers moving nimbly across the strings.

Leaning against the door frame, Peter watched and wondered why she had never told him she knew how to play. How had they been together for an entire year and he didn’t know this about her? The guitar had to be new because she didn’t have one before. He had personally moved most of her stuff when they were moving in.

Peter’s breath fell from his lungs when she started to sing.

“I grab your hand and then we run to the car, singin’ in the street and playing air guitar. Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar and I wonder if it goes too far to say I’ve never recognized a purer face. You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place. Used to think that lovin’ meant a painful chase but you’re right here now and I think you’ll stay.” She sang.

He was just in awe; he was wonderstruck. Her voice was so soft and so beautiful and steady and he hated that he hadn’t been graced by it for the last year. Then there was the matter of the lyrical content that made his heart feel like it might turn into goo. It was absolutely her own original song that was about them because a couple months ago they had been at one of y/n’s friends’ parties and they were leaving when a song that they both loved came on. The music was so loud they could still hear it from outside and had jammed out to it together, air guitar having been part of that. It was one of his favorite moments in time with her and now one of his fondest memories.

He didn’t understand why she was working her current nine to five job when she had this talent.

He tried not to be a little hurt that he didn’t know anything about this but he also knew that he had hidden Spider-Man from her for the first six months. He couldn’t exactly judge her.

“Oh we’re dacin’ in my livin’ room and up come my fists and I say I’m only playing but the truth is this: I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss. And I’m terrified but the truth is this: I said beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I know that beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong. And I hope, beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe for me to fall.”

Peter’s eyes pricked with tears as he leaned against the door frame, throat tight and wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of her and kiss her so hard that it would be able to make her feel what he was feeling which was awe, astonishment, adoration to name a few. He was also incredibly overwhelmed by how beautiful she was; sitting there in that black NYU hoodie that he knew she’d gotten on her first day with a strand of her hair falling in her face from the bun that was piled on her head and her face clear of any makeup and singing about she felt safe enough to fall because she knew he would catch her. He would always catch her. At the end of the day his most important job was protecting her. Spider-Man meant nothing if he couldn’t keep y/n safe. The final strum made him wipe at his glassy eyes and he eyed the blue notebook that was open in front of her. He had seen it a couple times but assumed it was something to do with work like a planner or a calendar. It apparently harbored every feeling she had ever felt about him, about them.

Not wanting to startle her, he breathed her name.

Still, she jumped and her head whipped in his direction. “Jesus.” She gasped. “What the fuck are you doing home so early?”

“Finished early tonight. Thought I might come home and try to see you before you went to sleep.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before nodding. “How long have you been standing there?”

He smiled fondly. “Long enough to hear the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face behind her guitar in her lap.

Stalking forward, Peter sat across from her. “Why didn’t you tell me about…any of this?”

She looked up, ears red with embarrassment and lips pursed. “I’ve never shared it with anyone.” She shrugged. “Not even my parents. It’s something I do for me and when I met you…I was more inspired than I ever have been in my life. I may not be the best singer or songwriter but it’s so therapeutic.”

Cupping her face, he brushed the strand of hair away with his thumb. “I feel like I should have paid admission to see that that’s how beautiful your voice is. And that song? You wrote that?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Wrote it the morning after Anna’s party. You were still sleeping and I just…you make me feel so safe, Pete.”

“Well, I am Spider-Man.” he chuckled.

“That’s not it. I know you’re not gonna break my heart. I just know it. I don’t know how but I do. You have no idea how many songs I’ve written about us and-and about you. Last year this thing wasn’t even halfway filled and now it’s only got a few blank pages left.”

He closed the gap and kissed her hard in a mismatch of lips and the need to show her how much he loved her in a way he could. He didn’t know how to make a song but he wanted to so badly in that moment just so she could truly understand how he felt about her because what he just heard made him know truly how she felt about him.

“Play it again.” He breathed against her lips.

“I’ll play it as many times as you want.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrew!peter imagine #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield #andrew!peter fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #tasm #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #the amazing spider man #spider man #spider-man

[hartro-owns-my-heart-ro]

my stellarfirma brainrot has been Normal recently

[ID: Several digital doodles relating to Stellar Firma. The first is a family tree diagram that shows Imogen as David’s parent, and that she, Glados and Chell are married. There is a pink dotted line connecting Chell and Glados to David annotated “They’re stepmothers Harold!”. The second features Hartro, a thin woman with curly hair wearing a star of David necklace, The Face, a hijabi person with several symbols floating behind them including the crescent and star, and Trexel, a fat man in a bowtie with a note “raised christian” pointing at him. Hartro and The Face are smiling elegantly while Trexel is wide-eyed and disoriented, like a sad cat meme. A caption reads “The three horsemen of “how tf did earth religion persist on stellar firma””. The third one features me, a cat-boy in a sweater, holding an umbrella and crying as if at a funeral. Directly next to me is Imogen, a large woman with long fluffy hair, in the family guy death pose, letting out a speech bubble with the dead face emoji in it. End ID]

if you like my work, please consider reblogging! (i love getting nice tags!)

#stellar firma #stella firma #rqdescribed #I.M.O.G.E.N. #david 7 #hartro piltz #trexel geistman #chelldos #rusty quill #doodles #grem originals

[shepherds-of-haven]

I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint! 

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

#Shepherds of Haven #group #group dynamic #all characters #found family #drinking #cw: alcohol #drunk #shenanigans #party #parties #long #long post

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Five times the Marauders came out to Mcgonogall and the one time she had to drag it out of them and the one time she had to tell them to...

TRIGGER WARNING: Internalized Homophobia

ONE: Sirius - (Asexual) Gay

Sirius storms into Mcgonogall’s office in third year, bruises on his body and fire in his eyes. He plunks himself down across from her and declares, “I’m gay, I hate sex, and I want to spend the rest of my life in love with Remus John Lupin.”

Mcgonogall, who had been reading up to this point, slowly closes her book as she raises her eyebrow.

“Is that so?” She asks, and Sirius nods once, sharply.

“I love him,” he says. “And he loves me. And I’m gonna marry him.”

Mcgonogall hums, opening her book back up and leaning back in her chair.

“Werewolves can’t get married, Mr. Potter,” she says, and Sirius glares.

“I will marry him,” he says, and Mcgonogall sighs.

“There is no doubt in my mind you will, Mr. Potter,” she drawls. “I merely mean you may have to do so illegally. However, if your recent trips to the school library regarding only books on the process of becoming an Animagus are anything to go by, I daresay that will not be much of an obstacle for you.”

Sirius shrugs, dropping his chin down onto his arms. “Guess not. Whatcha readin’?”

Mcgonogall sighs.

TWO: Severus - Asexual (Queer)

Severus starts hanging out in Mcgonogall’s office in most of his free time. She knows him well enough by now, it being fifth year and all, but she worries about his severe lack of friends. Barring Lily, he doesn’t hang out with anyone.

He’s draped across her desk on his back, legs and head hanging over either side and holding up a book as he reads, when she asks him how he’s doing. He shrugs.

“Fine.”

She digs a bit deeper - “I notice you only seem to spend time with Miss Evans. Aren’t you lonely?” Severus shrugs again.

“She’s the love of my life. I’m good.”

Mcgonogall sighs. She doesn’t ask any more questions, but after a few moments have passed, Severus speaks up.

“I really am fine, Professor,” he says, sending her a small smile. “I’m best friends with the girl of my dreams, I know the fact that I’m ace as fuck and queer isn’t gonna change that, and I know who I am. I’m fantastic.”

Mcgonogall rakes her eyes over his body, taking in his loose posture and defiant eyes and the skirt he wears nearly every day, and she shrugs.

“If you’re sure,” she says, and Severus lets out a small laugh.

“I’m sure,” he says softly. “It’s just one of those things, you know? A fact of life. James Potter is a prat, Sirius Potter and Remus Lupin are in love, and Severus Snape is fine.”

He trails off. “Just fine.”

Mcgonogall smiles at him. Severus grins back.

“Being normal is boring,” he quips, and it’s that moment that Mcgonogall starts to question his feud with the Marauders, because honestly they could all be incredible friends if they just got past their stubborn pride.

THREE: Peter - Bisexual

In fifth year he develops a huge crush on the new transfer student Maxwell Needles, who came from Beauxbatons and is now a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts. They TA at the library and Peter loves them, and, naturally, panics to Mcgonogall one day about it.

He’s sitting there, bouncing in a chair and fidgeting, when she blurts, “Just ask them out.”

Peter’s head snaps up, his wide shocked eyes fixing on her.

“What?” He whispers, and Mcgonogall sighs, shaking her head.

“Ask them out. Everything you’ve told me says you’ve got a solid chance.”

Peter flushes bright red, looking down at his hands and shaking his head.

“No, no. I… they’re so cool, Professor. They have magenta hair and they wear leather and spikes all the time and they just… they’re loud and rebellious and so, so out of my league.”

(In her head, Mcgonogall facepalms.)

“Oh please,” Mcgonogall says, waving her hand in dismissal. “You’re a Marauder. Besides, leagues are nonexistent. But if you really feel so badly, here’s the test they took last week.”

She hands him a paper, with Max’s name signed at the top. There are hearts doodled all over it with the initials P + M and the name Pettigrew-Needles? Needles-Pettigrew? Maxwell Pettigrew? Peter Needles? written all over it. Peter pinkens, but smiles, and hands it back to her, shaking just a bit less.

“Thank you, Professor,” he mumbles, a grin slowly taking over his face, and Mcgonogall waves his words away.

“Nonsense,” she says, smiling. “Anything to help my favorite bisexual rat.”

Peter groans. Mcgonogall grins.

“Now go. Ask them out.”

Peter blushes, but nods.

“Yes, Professor,” he mumbles, and skitters off as she looks down triumphantly at the test, scrawling quickly next to the O on it, Congratulations on your new Marauder boyfriend. Come to me for therapy when you need it :)

(Max beams brighter than the sun when Mcgonogall passes it back.)

FOUR: Lily - (Polyamorous) Trans FTM

Lily is completing some Prefect duties (read: paperwork) in Mcgonogall’s office in sixth year when she suddenly heaves roughly and stands up, shoving her way out of the room. Mcgonogall follows her, concerned, and finds her emerging from one of the uniform closets in pants.

She raises her eyebrow at the sight, to which Lily sighs and waves her hand.

“Do you have scissors and a big sweater I could borrow? Oh, and some paint?”

Mcgonogall purses her lips, but finds Lily the things she needs. Lily shrugs the sweater over her shoulders, drags her pink, blue, and white fingers all down her cheeks, and lifts the scissors to her hair. Mcgonogall’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as she steps forward with an outstretched hand, her eyes wide as she watches Lily shear off nearly all her hair.

“Miss Evans,” she hisses, snatching the scissors back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Lily glares at her, running her fingers through her newly shorn hair and tugging down the hem of her sweater.

“Making myself Mr. Evans,” he spits, and stomps out of the room with his hands clenched into fists by his sides.

(Mcgonogall gifts him the scissors the next day, with the nonchalant explanation, “For whenever you need to cut your hair again, of course. Mr. Evans.”

Lily beams.)

FIVE: Remus - (Asexual) Panromantic

Mcgonogall has never met anyone who hates themself as fiercely as Remus Lupin does.

In sixth year, he starts to shrink further and further into himself, even distancing himself from Sirius. And then, one day, he slams his way into Mcgonogall’s classroom three hours after curfew and collapses into the chair in front of her desk, waiting for her to join him from her rooms.

“Mr. Lupin?” She asks. “What ever could possess you to -”

He thrusts his hand out, showing her a silver ring engraved with a black pawprint. Her mouth shuts like a vice. They sit there for a few moments in complete and utter silence until finally Remus mutters, “He wants to marry me.”

Mcgonogall purses her lips.

“I can see that,” she says, knotting her fingers together in front of her. Remus stares down at his hands in shock.

“He wants to marry me,” he says again, in marvel. “I’ve been pulling away from him because I’m a sexless werewolf who will end up whoring himself out on the streets after graduation because no person would ever reasonably hire me and I’ll probably off myself before I’m thirty and I’ve been pushing him away for three weeks trying to prepare myself for when he inevitably breaks my heart and instead he wants to marry me.”

Mcgonogall is readying to break down the mountains of bullshit that just sprang from her favorite student’s mouth when Remus looks up at her through teary eyes and whispers, “How do I take it back?”

Mcgonogall raises her eyebrow.

“Now why would you do that?” She asks, choosing her words carefully. “You were born to stand by Sirius Potter’s side, there was never any doubt in that at all.”

Remus shrugs.

“He deserves better than a piece of shit like me,” he mumbles. “My life has been a death sentence since I was five. I don’t want to drag him down with me.”

Mcgonogall feels her heart break in her chest. She doesn’t show it.

“Mr. Lupin,” she says, quietly. “I am quite certain he intends to lift you up. But if I may speak frankly, my dear - and I will whether you like it or not - that boy loves you more than I thought it was possible to love another human being. And Sirius Potter may be many things, but he is not an idiot - I am quite certain that he knew what being with you would entail long before he ever acted on his feelings for you, and I do believe that if you are truly to live such a life, not a day will go by he is not by your side living the same.”

Remus flushes. He fiddles with his ring, then shrugs.

“Thanks, I guess,” he mumbles, and stands to leave, never looking back at her. Mcgonogall simply nods.

“Oh, and Mr. Lupin?” She calls as he slips through the door. He freezes. She smiles.

“While your heart has the capacity to love all others, I’m not sure it will ever recognize a face other than Sirius Potter Lupin’s.”

As Remus flees, she catches just the last glimpse of his neck above his robes - scarred as ever, and flaming red.

ONE: Regulus - (Nonbinary Male) (Asexual) Queer

Mcgonogall comes back after rounds one night in seventh year (his sixth) to find Regulus Black asleep at one of the desks in her classroom. She shakes him awake, bending down to ask if he’s okay, and Regulus breaks into tears, burying his face in his hands.

“I’m queer,” he warbles. “I’m a piece of gay shit just like my brother and I don’t know what to do.”

Mcgonogall places a gentle hand on his back.

“That’s okay, Regulus,” she says, but he only shakes his head more violently.

“It’s not okay,” he rasps. “It’s not okay. I can’t be like that, Sirius is like that and look what happened to him -”

Mcgonogall opens her mouth to answer but Regulus just keeps babbling, trying to tear himself away.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t. You don’t understand, Miss, I can’t -”

“Regulus Lupin,” Mcgonogall snaps, grasping his wrists. He freezes, going pliant in her hands at the name, and she stares deep into his eyes as she speaks.

“You are queer, and that is okay. Your brother is a kind, wonderful person who loves you more than life itself and is already making plans with his fiance to take you in once he’s of age. I may not understand everything, but I understand enough to know you can love whoever you want to.”

Regulus calms. He deflates, turning to putty in her hands, and she gathers him close, hugging him until Sirius, Remus, and James come looking for him.

ONE: James - (Polyamorous) Bisexual

While James Potter may be one of Mcgonogall’s favorite students, he is also the one she most often wants to murder.

In the last week of seventh year, he gets up on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during breakfast and shouts, “I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!”

Naturally, everyone looks up at him, including Mcgonogall, whose hand is already on her wand. James pulls Severus and Lily up on the table with him, snogs Lily filthily and dips Severus into a kiss as Lily laughs, and then straightens back up and screams, “I’M SO FUCKING BISEXUAL!”

Sirius, obviously, decides the best course of action is to then scream, “I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING EVANS!”

James turns bright red, Severus starts sputtering, Lily guffaws loudly and Mcgonogall gives all of them detention for the rest of their lives, though she has a particularly hard time getting James off the table:

“Get off the table please, you can’t be up there - DiD yOU jUSt cALL mE HOmoPhoBIC JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER COME BACK HERE SO I CAN FUCKING STRANGLE YOU -”

(Ah, Dumbledore thinks. Good times.)

#marauders #harry potter #sirius black #severus snape #peter pettigrew #lily evans #remus lupin #regulus black #james potter #wolfstar #james x lily x severus #the seven marauders #they're all queer fight me #also for some reason i am super enamored with trans boy lily so that's here now you're welcome #this is basically crack and i'm only sort of sorry #minerva mcgonagall #mcgonagall appreciation #mcgonogall deserves a raise #like a million sickles raise #a billion even #she deserves better than this bullshit #internalized homophobia #so be careful kids #please enjoy my weird ass shit #have a nice day y'all

[kuroosweakness]

last updated: dec. 31st 2020 

all of karasuno:

karasuno as boba orders

karasuno boys as sweet treats

karasuno boys in haunted houses

karasuno boys as part-time workers

karasuno boys as students

s/o forgets their lunch

s/o wanting to wear matching sweaters :)

when their cute manager gets hit on

karasuno meeting daichi’s s/o for the first time

helping their s/o who wants to be a libero

karasuno’s manager who won’t hesitate to verbally murder them but cannot be mad at nishinoya and hinata

how the they’ll react to finding out about their adorable manager’s traumatic past

ukai:

s/o comes out as bi

kiyoko (my queen <3): 

with a chubby s/o who is insecure and feels like they need to change themselves for her

daichi:

when his s/o wants to do couple costumes

y/n questioning their sexuality

s/o has an anxiety attack

falling for their new manager

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

reassuring his s/o that they’re not annoying and that they deserve love

sugawara:

s/o’s self-harm scars

s/o accidentally gets period blood on bed sheets

s/o cheers him on in a game

s/o who cries a lot

s/o is having a really rough time

cuddling their stressed s/o

y/n questioning their sexuality

comfort hcs

s/o who has a toxic friend and feels powerless

when his s/o loses the will to live

comforting his s/o from family fights

with a female s/o who’s really similar to kenma

comforting s/o who’s freaking out over finals and major projects

s/o has a school stress related panic attack

s/o has a panic/anxiety attack

comforting s/o

s/o who has auditory processing disorder

s/o who has depression

s/o who’s insecure about their face

telling his s/o to slow down in school work and rest

sugawara comforting hcs with his tall gf

s/o when they lose motivation to do school work because they don’t understand

s/o who’s having flashbacks

reassuring his s/o that they’re not annoying and that they deserve love

helping his s/o who has trouble dealing with their self-harm addiction

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

acoustic guitarist s/o sings to him

s/o who’s usually stoic, cold, and shy but is sweet to him

asahi:

waking up a s/o who is fake sleeping

accidentally hit their s/o with a volleyball

when y/n’s ex talks trash about them

y/n questioning their sexuality

crushing on dancer y/n

looking after a worn out s/o

nishinoya:

when his s/o dodges his kisses

waking up a s/o who is fake sleeping

s/o who’s clumsy

“you didn’t give me enough kisses today”

s/o’s self-harm scars

s/o who doodles all over their own body

s/o shows up at their game in their jersey

their s/o wants them to teach them volleyball

s/o who has tics

s/o’s fresh self-harm scars

s/o with scars

with a tall s/o who can be really clingy and touch deprived

tanaka:

when his s/o dodges his kisses

s/o who’s clumsy

with a cutesy s/o

tough s/o breaks down

s/o asks if he loves her

s/o who’s in an art block

reassuring his s/o that they’re pretty

ennoshita:

s/o cheers him on in a game

s/o feels numb

s/o who has an inferiority complex

kageyama:

when his s/o dodges his kisses

random kags and hinata headcanon

s/o’s phone blows up with notifications

when his s/o wants something from the store

caught making out with s/o

s/o who sleeps with stuffed animals ( plushies )

s/o playfully says “i hate you”

x  suga’s short younger brother

their s/o wants them to teach them volleyball

kageyama when his s/o feels insecure

waking up with him

s/o is scared of thunder because it reminds of them of their parents’ yelling

“my boyfriend is coming” tiktok trend

with a s/o with body hair

with a s/o who gets a lot of confessions from others

reacting to his s/o singing “love talk” by wayv

hinata:

when his s/o dodges his kisses

waking up a s/o who is fake sleeping

when his s/o accidentally calls him bro/dude

random kags and hinata headcanon

x  suga’s short younger brother

their s/o wants them to teach them volleyball

s/o who has severe headaches

short s/o wants to reach the top shelf

s/o koala’ing themselves onto their lap

when he’s being very affectionate and cuddly with his s/o

tsukishima:

s/o has a school stress related panic attack

reassuring his s/o that they’re pretty

s/o feels numb

tsukishima’s lively, outgoing s/o becomes quiet and cold

s/o who has frequent breakdowns

s/o feels useless and like a bad person

s/o who has a toxic friend and feels powerless

comfort hcs

s/o who has an inferiority complex

when his s/o is in pain but won’t let him touch their wrist

falling for their new manager

when his extroverted s/o lets out her bottled emotions

s/o who is prone to panic attacks and stresses easily

comforting s/o who’s having a hard time

comforting s/o who got a bad grade even though they put in a lot of effort

comforting s/o struggling with home life

s/o who feels insecure and compares themselves to pretty friends/models

s/o who’s going through a depressive episode

s/o’s fresh self-harm scars

s/o whose parent just got diagnosed with cancer

comforting his s/o over a loved one’s death

waking up a s/o who is fake sleeping

when his s/o wants to do couple costumes

s/o accidentally gets period blood on bed sheets

“you didn’t give me enough kisses today”

s/o gives them a matching couple item

walking in on y/n changing

s/o’s self-harm scars

s/o shows up at their game in their jersey

s/o who has stretch marks

s/o who’s having issues with their best friend

s/o breaks down after bottling their emotions

s/o koala’ing themselves onto their lap  

tough s/o breaks down

s/o asks if he loves her

s/o who’s in an art block

with a moody s/o

with a clingy s/o

s/o having a hard time

s/o recovering from an eating disorder and is starting to count calories again

helping his s/o who has trouble dealing with their self-harm addiction

with a jealous s/o

comforting his s/o who is stressed out about finals

when his pretty and quiet s/o wants his attention

comforting s/o who easily gets anxiety and panic attacks

cuddling with his s/o while using visual triggers

timeskip! tsukishima coming home after a long day at the museum (scenario)

reacting to his s/o singing “love talk” by wayv

with a s/o who gets very clingy and affectionate when sleepy

with a s/o who is sad from losing one of their close friends

yamaguchi:

s/o has a school stress related panic attack

how he acts around his crush

s/o who has auditory processing disorder

s/o whose parent just got diagnosed with cancer

when his s/o wants something from the store

when his s/o accidentally calls him bro/dude

s/o cheers him on in a game

s/o who has frequent breakdowns

with a s/o who relapsed into schizophrenia

acoustic guitarist s/o sings to him

#haikyuu masterlist

[fandom-blackhole]

OK HOCKEY DIN BUT HOCKEY PAZ

just this HUGE, intimedating defense player and whos definitely given some guys concussions during his career

and then theres you, the sweetheart behind the snack counter who always has a hot chocolate ready for him after the game (his favourite, he once told you)

and hooooo boy has this big man fallen hard for you and your cute sweater and smile and the way you write his name on his little styrofoam cup of cocoa~

All I wanna to say is I know I have a bunch if older asks I need to get to, but THIS has been on my brain since I read it and I think I need soft Paz after posting the angst earlier.....

Also I know NOTHING about hockey, but I do like to watch it and think its hot af lmao...

The consessions job at the local hockey rink was only supposed to be a temporary job for you while you worked on your masters degree. In fact the position you had been hired for was only supposed to for a single hockey season. But said season came and went, and when asked to work at the hockey rink year round you had readily agreed, not because you liked the job, infact you found it stressful to add onto your schoolwork as well as agitating with having to deal with pretentious customers, but because the star defensive player of the Mythosaurs, Paz Vizsla, was sweet and caring and you may or may not have developed feelings for him over the course of the first seasons games.

The first time you had met the giant of a man, was after the Mythosaurs' first game of the season. You had been abandoned by the other workers to clean and take stock before closing and you had angrily been scrubbing at a mustard stain for five minutes when you had heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, ready to tell off whoever was there, knowing you had every right because you were technically closed, but instead you ended up staring silently with wide eyes and half open mouth as you made eye contact with a sweat(?) and large imposing figure wearing a tight shirt with the number 26 and the Mythosaurs team name stretched across his chest. Gulping you gave him a shaky smile when he had smiled at you. Before you could even say anything he spoke up, saying, "I know you are closed, but I was just hoping you may have any spare hot cocoa left over for the night," you found yourself only nodding and feeling a warm stirring at his deep breath. As you made him a large cup of the left over cocoa and handed it to him, you hand come to the conclusion, you either were terrified of him beyond comprehension or you absolutely and utterly attracted to him. After that first night you found yourself volunteering to close, just so that you would be able to see the large hulking figure and recieve one of his blinding smiles. You got so good at closing, that by the time Paz came around after a month, you had completely finished all the closing chores and had time to doodle little figures or animals or even the team mascot on Paz’s cups and have his drink ready for him by the time he walked out of the locker room.

After you had agreed to work year around, that was when you were shocked with a sudden revelation. You had been working one afternoon when the rink was open for skating lessons and just open to the public. Work had been steady, and you found yourself smiling as watched younger kids trying and walk past on skates, several loosing their balance and falling on their butts. You were slightly disappointed that from where your stand was situated you weren't able to watch the kids learning their way around. On your break though, you did manage to sneak out with a soft smile on your face, only to stop dead in your tracks seeing Paz bent over holding a young girls hands, keeping her steady as he skated through the rink with her. You couldn't help but place a hand on your lower belly trying to quell the heat that was rising there from the sight of the large man clearly whispering reassuring things to the girl. You had run back to the consessions after that, hoping to finish out the day and push the sight from your head. But nothing seemed to quell that warmth, and by the time your favorite hockey player came strutting up the the counter, you could only hand Paz his hot cocoa while looking away, flustered. Paz had instantly thought something was wrong, scared he'd done something to upset you when you didn't look at him. You heard him gingerly set his cup to the side of the counter and launched over it, landing in front of you, before cupping your face and making you look at him, instantly asking if you were okay. Gulping you knew your chest was heaving, and you let out a whimper before nodding your head, knowing your voice would not work in that moment. Then he softly lowered his voice, asking, "Then what is wrong, darling?"

Groaning you bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes, you said, "I..I saw you helping a little girl on the ice earlier...and..."

"And," he whispered as he brushed your cheek with his thumb, waiting patiently for your answer. You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut, "and i-it was probably one of the hottest and cutest things I've ever seen in my life. And I realized in that moment just how much I want you."

Paz froze and searched you face for any lie or deceit, be fore he slowly said, "Darling are you saying that...."

In that second you opened your eyes again and made eye contact, as you gathered up all your courage and said, "Paz, I have never felt as hot and bothered as I did in that moment, or as I still do. I cant shake the feeling no matter what I do. I...I want you so badly...."

What you hadn't expected was for Paz to pick you up and throw you over his shower. You yelped, as he launched over the counter again, pulling a worker who was wiping tables a few feet away telling them to finish your shift with a growl that did nothing but sent heat shooting through your belly. You didn't even have time to ask him what he was doing before you found yourself pressed to the locker room wall with his hot mouth on yours. Paz kept whispering about how much he had dreamed of holding you like this, kissing you like this, being with you like this. You were helpless to stop his onslaught of words or touches, only able to make pitiful noises and say Paz’s name as his hands finally started slipping under your thick sweater.

By the time the two of you walked out of the locker room, you both were overly pleased and had satisfied, happy smiles on your face. After you ran to grab your things from you work locker, Paz grabbed your hand and said, "I know I should have asked this before everything we just did, but, darling, may I take you out to dinner?"

P. 2/Prequel

#did i go overboard? yes #do i have so many thots about this? yes #do i have thots about how din is the offense star and be is head over heels for Luke Skywalker the local and famous figure skater??? yes #ask for more and I WILL write it #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Their Girl

Loosely based off of several cases that have, unfortunately, taken place in schools.

Mabel defends herself when a boy touches her, only to be the one to get in trouble. Not on her grunkles watch.

~~~~~~~~~~

“In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the - Anyone? Anyone? - the Great Depression, passed a - Anyone? Anyone? - a tariff bill. The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act, which - Anyone? Raised or lowered? - raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the Federal Government.”

Mabel leaned back in her desk chair to stretch. It was cold in the high school, but luckily her seat was right in the sunshine, warming her up like a lizard on a rock. Her baggy yellow sweater fell off her left shoulder and she let it without giving it much of a second thought, then watched some birds on a tree as the Economics teacher droned on.

“Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the United States fell deeper into the Great Depression.”

Tenth grade was too young to learn about something so boring. This was for suckers who paid money for it, like college students. Mabel held her breath to keep herself from snorting over her own inner thoughts. Grunkle Stan would be proud of her, she thought, and her thoughts wandered to him and Grunkle Ford, until she was snapped back into reality. Literally.

“Today, we have a similar debate over this, anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Laffer Curve.”

A boy behind her (his name slipped her mind at the proper moment) was playing with her exposed bra strap. It felt like he had grabbed it, barely pulled it back, and let go. At first, she thought maybe it was an accident. Unlike, but possible. But then it happened again, this time the boy pulled the bra strap far enough that when he let go it slapped against her skin a little. It didn’t hurt, and the teacher’s boring voice drowned out the noise, but still.

“Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the revenue curve you will get exactly the same amount of revenue as at this point.”

Mabel turned around sharply at once and gave him a deadly glare. “Stop it.” She whispered firmly.

The boy grinned menacingly, and sneered just as quietly, “Make me.”

Mabel whipped her head back, making sure her long ponytail hit him in the face, but though her actions stopped him for a moment, soon he was back to pulling on her bra strap, each time pulling back farther and farther.

“This is very controversial. Anyone know what President George H. W. Bush called this in 1980? Anyone? Something-D-O-O Economics. Voodoo Economics.”

A loud snap sound echoed, a yell of pain and aggravation, and then Mabel Pines stood so sharply her chair fell backwards, turned around, and punched the jerk in the face, left-hook boxing style.

“Ms. Pines!” The teacher scolded loudly.

The whole class was on the edge of their seats. All the kids had seen what happened; the ones sitting closest to the pair had been well aware of what was going on since the beginning. While they were hopeful the jerk would get what’s coming to him, they all knew that wasn’t likely. Not under the most sexist teacher’s nose.

“To Mr. William’s office. Now.” He growled.

“But he was touching my bra!” Mabel defended. “He was invading my personal bubble even though I told him to back off!”

“It’s a very small classroom, Ms. Pines. And maybe he wouldn’t have touched it if you didn’t have it out for the whole world to see.” The man said coldly and pointed to the door. “Now please leave my classroom.”

Mabel knew there was no point in defending herself. She did a quick glance around the room to see if anyone would defend her, but no one looked ready to jump into the line of fire. She understood why. This guy had a bad reputation. Mabel loudly stuffed her notebook filled with doodles into her backpack, took it and her small purse, and stomped out of the classroom.

She did manage to catch the blood coming out of the boy’s nose and grinned.

At Mr. William’s office, the sweet secretary with old-lady glasses offered her a mint and was very nice to her. But soon Mr. William entered the room and had Mabel enter his office. Apparently the teacher had called ahead so Mabel didn’t have to tell the principal what happened, leaving the girl to feel like she was walking into the Lion’s Den.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper left his Robotics class to meet up with Mabel, who normally would be leaving Economics, so they could walk to their last class, Language Arts 10, together. Economics emptied pretty quickly thanks to the boredom, so Dipper was a bit confused when he didn’t see his twin sister out in the hall, and wondered if she was in the bathroom.

He saw a fellow student who shared Mabel’s Economics class, Rose, leave the ladies’ room, and so he asked, “Hey Rose, is Mabel in there?”

She shook her head. “Nah, didn’t you hear? She got sent to the office for punching Jeremy.”

Dipper grinned with pride, but it quickly went away; Mabel would only do that if Jeremy was doing something. “What’d he do?”

“Smacked her with her own bra strap.” Rose pulled down the neck of her t-shirt and demonstrated, “Like this.” And she pulled her bra strap and let go, making it snap.

“Are you kidding me?!” Dipper yelled and his eyes landed on the teacher to his right, standing with his arms crossed and looking out for rule-breakers.

The young man growled in his throat like an angry dog, ready to tell the jerk off, but he felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his phone while Rose walked away. Dipper calmed down a little, sighed, and walked to the lockers to lean against them as he responded to his newest text. He had no intention of going to Language Arts. He’d be on his way to the office soon enough in case his sister needed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford re-read the maps and plans for Spring Break with an exciting grin all over his face. Soon the kids would be out of school and take a bus to the pier where he and Stan had docked the Stan O’ War II, then they would sail alongside the California shore, fishing, sailing, and occasionally swimming, for a whole week. They had been planning this since the holidays, when they had all facetimed for five hours while the old sailors were on the shores of the Netherlands. The kids had practically begged to go on the boat with them, and so they agreed to sail alongside Russia and visit California, planning to then re-visit Alaska quickly before sailing down to Oregon for the summer.

Stan climbed up from the cabin below as he pulled on his white t-shirt. “How much longer until the kids are free from prison?”

Ford rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “Ninety minutes. And it’s a twenty minute drive, so it’ll be about another two hours, Stanley.”

The youngest of the pair by fifteen minutes groaned and collapsed on the couch. “I could always hotwire a car and we could see them now. We can pretend one of us died and so we need the kids now.”

“Stanley, no.”

“Stanley YES!”

Ford chuckled and rolled up the map. “Text them if you miss them so much.”

“Maybe I will.” Stan snorted and pulled out his phone to text in the group chat. “Surviving okay, kids?” Just a casual greeting, and he and Ford were pleasantly surprised to get a little buzz back not a minute longer.

“Not really.”

Stan raised an eyebrow while Ford had his back to him and was organizing his papers. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Little dots appeared and reappeared. Stan knew what that meant. Dipper was being careful how he answered. Stan decided to check, and sure enough Mabel hadn’t even seen the texts yet. When he got a small paragraph back, Stan nearly crushed his phone in his fist. “WHAAAAAT?!”

Ford jumped a foot in the air and held his chest. “Christ, Stan, what…”

“Check your phone, Genius! We’re going to Piedmont. NOW!” And Stan slapped on his beanie and stormed out of the cabin of the ship with a slam of the door.

Ford picked up his phone, which had been lying face-down on the table, and once he was caught up on messages, he matched his twin’s anger and made sure his ray gun was in his blue hoodie as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel sat in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, letting Mr. Williams go on his tangent. According to the school nurse, she had broken Jeremy’s nose. Good. That’s what he gets for touching her. But apparently Mr. Williams disagreed, saying things like how her actions were unlawful and that she had no right to punch another student.

“Under no circumstances should you ever punch a fellow student, Ms. Mabel.” Mr. Williams said firmly.

“But he was touching me!” Mabel quickly injected, in some effort to defend herself. “He was pulling on my bra strap and smacking me with it! And I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Mr. Williams snorted as he reached into his desk. “Well maybe next time you won’t wear such revealing clothes? How else are people supposed to pay attention to the lesson?”

Mabel felt her heart drop. She looked back down at her sweater, her purposely baggy yellow sweater that she had knitted herself a few months ago. This sweater - in fact, none of her sweaters - had ever been a problem before. Mabel plucked at her top and said in a quiet, timid voice, “But I made this.”

Mr. Williams glanced up from what he was writing for a second, before mumbling bitterly with his cold eyes on his paper, “Let the professionals make your clothes, okay? If you don’t want to find yourself in trouble then try wearing suitable clothing.”

Mabel felt her entire face turn red. She was so angry and so hurt and she saw no possible way out of this, so she decided to bite her lip and hide the lower-half of her face in her sweater, shrinking in her seat and lifting her yellow sweater up a bit.

“Now, I am giving you three weeks of detention.” Mr. Williams said. “Two for violence and invading a student’s personal bubble, and one for breaking dress…”

The door opened sharply. Mabel turned and her jaw was wide open to find her great-uncles at the foot of the office. At first she was jubilant to see them again, but then terrified to see them so angry. She had never seen them so mad. She knew they could be scary when they wanted to, but they had always seemed like soft old teddy bears to Mabel, what with their fluffy gray hair and warm hugs and squishy tummy-tums to snuggle against. Mabel was a little unhinged to find their faces darkened with anger. She could see a vein popping out of Stan’s forehead. Ford appeared to try to be collected, but his aura was as black as an imploding star, matching his brother’s quite well.

Mabel stood on shaking knees. Her uncles softened, ignoring the cold look Mr. Williams was giving them, and Stan was at her in an instant, with Ford right behind him, rubbing her shoulders and looking over her. “Mabel, sweetie, are you okay? Did he hurt you? I swear to Moses if that…”

“I’m okay, Grunkle Stan, I promise.” Mabel soothed, trying to smile, but she was still really nervous. “I… Wow, it’s great to see you guys, I missed you, but why are you here?”

“Dipper contacted us.” Ford said softly. “Said you were in trouble. What exactly happened?”

“She pu-...”

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford growled at Mr. Williams. Mabel actually shivered. She was so used to hearing a smooth, warm, comforting voice come from him, that hearing it growl like an animal like that startled her. “I am talking to my niece.” His eyes moved back on Mabel and he was instantly much warmer and not as scary. “What happened, pumpkin?”

“I was in Economics when this boy, Jeremy, was plucking at my bra strap.”

“Please show us exactly what he did.”

“Does it matter?!” Stan snapped. “He touched her!”

“Stanley, please,” Ford gave him a firm look, then returned his attention back to their girl. “Humor me.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. She had pulled her sweater down so it had covered both shoulders and sagged a bit on her chest. Now she moved it so her left shoulder was completely exposed, and she pinched at her strap. “It started like this,” She barely lifted it up, having little effect or sound. “But then after I told him to stop, he did this.” And Mabel pulled back far enough that when she let go it made a harsh slapping sound against her skin.

“Wait a minute,” Stan had caught a glimpse of it the moment she lowered her sweater. He gently turned her to look at the back of her shoulder, and he saw red. Literally. Her skin was reddening from the aggression. Not enough to swell or require ice, but enough to indicate just how invading and violent the action had been.

Stan was growling in his throat. He squeezed Mabel’s forearms reassuringly and said, “We’ll handle this, pumpkin.”

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Williams said firmly, still acting professional and snobbish. “Your niece here has violated several school rules and even went as far as to break a student’s nose.”

“You did?” Stan asked and patted her back. “That’s my girl!”

Mr. William’s nostrils flared. “Gentlemen, that is not what we should be teaching young…”

“While breaking cartilage is unfortunate, sir,” Ford said coldly, stepping forward, “It’s abundantly clear that she was only defending herself. Not only did the boy have no right to touch her, in any sense, in any manner, she was even gracious enough to give a verbal warning before she acted as she had to to get the boy to stop.”

Mr. Williams crossed his arms over his chest and snarled, “Well maybe if she hadn’t dressed in such a distracting way Mr…”

“Oh HELL NO!” Stan marched forward and slammed his fists down on the desk so hard he actually left cracks in the wood from the impact. “YOU’RE NOT PLAYING THAT GAME, ASSHOLE! NOT ON MY FUCKING WATCH!”

Ford made no attempt to silence his twin. In fact, he was smiling cunningly, like a policeman letting his dog go after the target. He gently walked Mabel to the door and ushered her outside. “Why don’t you wait outside, my dear? Dipper is waiting for you with a snack and some water to calm your nerves, you look a little shaken.” He said quietly.

Mabel dipped her head and smiled, unable to find the words, but Ford understood and closed the door after her.

Dipper was, in fact, there with a package of peanuts and bottled water in his hands for her. They sat in the cool office, listening to the conversation. While exact words were muffled by the walls and door, it sounded like Stan and Ford both were yelling and cursing at the principal. While Dipper and Mabel probably should have been more nervous, they weren’t; they were calm and they both knew that everything would be okay.

About half an hour later, just when the old men’s throats were getting a little sore, they left, leaving Mr. Williams to try to kill a small fire on his desk. Stan swiftly pocketed his lighter and smiled warmly at his kids. “Let’s ditch this hellhole.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was sipping some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows while Dipper was in the shower and her uncles elsewhere on the boat. She rubbed her shoulder with her free hand, elbows on the table, as she thought about the day. While she was grateful to not be in trouble and that the whole situation was over, it didn’t feel over. At least, the feelings it gave her hadn’t gone away.

The door opened and she smiled to see her favorite uncles coming inside. “Hey there, pumpkin.” Stan greeted warmly, but grew a little concerned. “You okay?”

Mabel blinked and tried to make a more convincing smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“That principal rattled you pretty good.” Stan pulled out a chair and sat next to her, rubbing her back. “C’mon, what’s on your mind?”

Mabel looked down at her hot drink, sighed, unsure of how to properly express her emotions, but managed to settle with, “It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ford said firmly and stood on her other side. She looked up at him and the old scientist said, “What happened to you was completely unfair and should never be tolerated.”

Mabel nodded in agreement. “It’s just that… not only should Jeremy not have touched me, but you’d think people would have my back for defending myself, but… they made it seem like it was my fault…”

“Mabel Pines,” Stan moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently. “That was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. You dress how you want and punch any guy that touches you if you don’t wanna be touched, and don’t let anyone tell you you should act differently.”

Mabel smiled weakly and nodded. “Okay.”

Stan chuckled and ruffled her hair. “That’s my girl.”

“Now hold one minute, Stanley.” Ford teased and wrapped Mabel up in a one-armed hug, making her giggle and hug him around his waist. “You were always terrible at sharing. She’s my girl, too.”

Stan smeared playfully and tickled Mabel’s ribs to loosen her grasp on Ford, pulling her into a big bear hug as she laughed. “Nu, uh. My girl.”

Mabel rolled her eyes as the twins only kept up the charade for another minute, filled to the brim with appreciation and power.

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #overprotective grunkles #Thanks for reading!