#mostly just a neat little doodle page

[nyctophobia-au]

Anyways, I really like how this turned out. :] They're just so,,, dapper.

#Auri <3 #he <3 #the pale king #troupe master grimm #Gim <3 #Pale Nightmare #these two <3 #Auri and Grimm <3 #hollow knight #mostly just a neat little doodle page #sometimes I just have to draw them bein' cool together to cope with how fucked their relationship is in this au lmao #I love how angular and pretty Auri turned out here especially #he just gets pointier every time I draw him lmao #Also #they both look hella fly in opposite colours #I'm glad I made the decision to make Auri's suit black and Grimm's white #it is just... #it's a vibe :] #I'm rarely this pleased with my own art #let me have this #/lh #rot's art #nyctophobia au

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Three

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry last weekend’s chapter was late this week, I’m back to my regularly scheduled posting! I’m so excited so many of you like this series so far!!

Word Count: 1131

Series Masterlist

• January 25, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

My second day at Forks high school started much smoother than the first. It was pretty much uneventful until I decided to eat lunch alone outside on the picnic tables in the quad. It was an overcast day much like all the others and maybe a little chilly, but still decent enough since it wasn’t currently raining. It made for the perfect condition being that no one else really wanted to eat outside.

That is, until I spotted none other than Jasper Hale headed in my direction.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing to the opposite end of the table I’m currently occupying.

“Not at all.” I respond, idly tidying my area self consciously.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s a little overwhelming inside and I come out here to get away.” He says by way of explanation, laying down the sketch pad he carried with him along with a few pencils and a smudge stick. “Mostly I just come out here to draw uninterrupted.” He sits and flips to an empty page, tilting it a little away from my view.

“I get it, large crowds aren’t my thing either. Plus in the two days I’ve known Emmett I can already tell that he probably creates a hostile drawing environment.” I finish with a light chuckle, turning my attention toward the unfinished apple in my hand.

“You draw too?” He asks, eyebrows lifting as he begins a rough sketch on the blank paper.

“Oh heck no, I don’t have any artistic abilities like that, as much as I wish I did.” I frown, taking a bite of my apple.

“I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I took some classes, watched some videos online, and doodled around a lot. Finally got the hang of it although I still don’t really think I’m that good.” He trails off, concentrating on his pencil strokes. “It helps with the stress though, especially when there’s a lot going on.”

“That is… actually kind of neat. Having an outlet that’s also inspiring, creating art and it centering you in the process.” I muse out loud, watching a face beginning to take shape on his paper.

I’m about to ask who he’s drawing when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings out in the empty air surrounding us. I gather my trash and stand while he tucks his supplies away.

“Thanks for keeping me company today.” I tell him as I gaze into his beautifully golden eyes, not quite ready to part ways with him.

“Thanks for allowing me to disturb your peace and quiet.” And as if reading my mind, “Mind if I walk you to your next class?”

“Oh um, sure.” Trying not to seem too excited by the proposition of spending more time in this gorgeous boy’s presence. I tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear and walk towards him.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” He announces, sweeping his arm in the direction of the main school building, a smirk on his lips.

I laugh and shake my head at his antics, a blush creeping up my cheeks as I walk past him in the direction of my economics class.

Ditching my trash in the trash can as we leave the quad, I miss the way he grins at the accomplishment of making me giggle. I also fail to notice the astounded looks of his adopted siblings as we pass them unaware of their presence through the windows of the cafeteria. Faces reflecting their shocked thoughts at seeing their brother openly flirting with a female compared to his normal stoic facade.

“How did you do it?” Emmett asks, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, a little confused by his blunt question.

“You’ve been here less than a week and my brother is wrapped around your little finger.” He says, holding up his pinky to wiggle in my face.

I laugh and shut my locker, “Emmett, I’ve had all of like two interactions with Jasper, you’re looking into this a little too much.”

“He usually keeps to himself, this isn't the normal Jasper we’re talking about.” He falls into step slightly behind me on my way to the last class of the day, his large build not moving through the throng of students as quickly as I am.

I turn to look at my new friend, “I literally have no clue, it’s probably nothing Em!” My heart picking up speed at just the thought of Jasper. Is he actually interested in me? Is that what Emmett is getting at?

There’s no way, beautiful people like him don’t go for people like me.

I turn and leave Emmett behind in the hallway as students finish rushing through the halls, the tardy bell ringing.

American History, the class I share with Jasper Hale and it also happens to be the last class of the day. Unfortunately though, his assigned seat is on the other side of the room. At least it’s more forward than mine, leaving me to observe him for most of the class period without him seeing.

History is also my worst subject; whether it’s world or US history, I hate it all the same. So many mistakes and atrocities, I wish I could let it flow in one ear and out the other without having to remember it for tests.

Today though, I get the sense our teacher has had a difficult day since he’s decided to let us work together freely. Seeing as I don’t really know anyone yet, I’m forced to work alone.

As if he could feel my discomfort and irritation with the assignment, Jasper Hale appears at the edge of my peripheral vision, claiming the abandoned desk next to mine and turning a few heads of our classmates.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically hear it from across the room.” He mutters lowly without looking up from his worksheet.

“I’m thinking too loud?” I respond defensively as I cut him a look that would normally skin boys alive.

“Would you like some help or not, doll?” He asks, a grin sliding across his lips as his eyes meet mine in challenge.

“I-uh, I hate history.” I manage to blurt out, a little flustered that he so easily bypassed my frustrated facade without a blink.

“I do want that explanation eventually, but we have work to finish and only,” He breaks eye contact to glance at the clock above the board, “thirty seven minutes left before you’re on your own.”

“Alright Hale, what did you get for number four?” I deflate and accept his offer to save me from the misery of suffering through this stupid assignment alone.

Next

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #twilight fanfiction #twilight #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #bless-my-demons #redamancy series #slow burn #female reader insert

[chibishortdeath]

General Simon brainrot sketch page :3, as per usual, explanations under a cut. Apologies if my posts tend to be kinda huge and difficult to scroll past, I try to do the cuts to make sure they do the least inconvenience to anyone! (>-< ;)

Just the whole page in full ft. My thumb lol

Expression practice! Simon is feeling the weight of his situation rn alas :(. I’ve always imagined him being panicked the whole game; the overarching entire game timer really gives a pretty good feeling of dread imo. The two doodles at the bottom were attempts at multiple ideas I’ve seen floating around about the curse, but they’re kinda bad in execution looking at them no tbh. But the first one is based on the idea that the curse gives some vampire traits like sharp teeth and would probably lead to proper vampirism if he were to die from it. The second was general attempt at like skull practice and comparing facial features to skull structure, but oh my god the page kept smudging and I tried making it look ok with some random blood on there but it just made it look even sillier 💀.

These next two are based on two random like liminal space images I ran into on Pinterest and I drew them mostly because I suck at backgrounds and idk Simon’s Quest itself is like Castlevania: Liminal Space Edition a lot of the time, so it fits X,,,,D. The first one I really liked the composition of the path on the far side contrasted to the trees. Imagine the water is the purple cursed swamp :3. Hopefully Simon has laurels just standin around in there.

This second liminal space for Simon to be in was this neat nighttime photo of a graveyard! Trees are HARD TO DRAW, especially just in pencil and a solid black background. There’s blood on the ground and stuff cause he was just fighting some monsters, probably those two headed lizard guys. It’s the awkward stillness after clearing out an area of enemies.

The pose for this one is based on the LOL~lots of laugh Miku figure lmao 💀💀💀

Simon is very fun to put in exaggerated poses! Especially cause you have to exaggerate them more to get the same ratio of pose to negative space because muscles and armor. I had no idea how to make metal belt armor thingies sit in a like legs up floating sort of pose like this so they kinda bend a little weird but eh he looks cute otherwise. The other doodles present are one that says “brainrot” which is kinda making fun of my own dedication to an NES character 💀 and also cause haha rot like the curse. Also, teeny tiny Simon with a heart!!! :3

Yippie! Simon posing again! I think the first pose was inspired by this like random old anime style angel figure??? Idk I think she was just an original character figure and the pose was pretty different, I just used the reference mostly for the arm position. Anyway, he’s vibin, just sitting curled up and momentarily comfy. Alas, the horrors persist in the second doodle that was an attempt at showing how the curse kinda deteriorates him but he just kinda ended up having a scarily snatched waist and it looks more stylized than like sick. Also the armor kinda bends around him in a way that makes it look like it shrunk with him which is so dumb lmaooooo (XwX). I’ll have to revisit the concept eventually idk, just look at his face for this one XD. Hahaha tiny doodle based on Larval Rin on the left there, nothing to see here—

The main doodle is just Simon looking into the distance bewildered and holding the whip, standard stuff. There’s also a side profile doodle and an attempt at drawing crying again cause I was getting kinda rusty at both of those things.

Simon Belmont but if he was 2000s anime lol. A fun little style experiment, I might keep this as like another secondary art style. There’s also some doodles of a hanged man skeleton, the eyes of Vlad, a skeleton hand, and a couple little chibi Simon’s of various expressions.

More 2000s anime Simon, but in a more silly way like the art style change for joke sections. One is him just goofily holding up Dracula’s head, but it’s contrasted immediately with a more gritty usual art style doodle of him with harsh shading lol. Get you a man who can do both I guess 💀

I gotta practice more on backgrounds and composition and stuff, probably also get some curse effects consistent augh. Lately I’ve been on and off working on random things or just staring into space tired, getting back to using social media is hard and an exhausting uphill battle unfortunately (_ _ ;). Sometimes I feel like I should probably split these up into multiple posts to make things more visible and to put more focus on specific drawings, but idk I don’t really want to, it just feels weird to me breaking up a doodle page like that, if that makes sense??? Eh idk.

#castlevania #castlevania games #akumajou dracula #castlevania ii: simon's quest #castlevania simon’s quest #simon’s quest #simon belmont #art post #my art #fanart #sometimes I forget that the turtleneck addition to his undershirt was like something I added somewhere along the line 💀 #seeing the actual box art and staring at his visible neck like where your clothes at and then I remember oh wait #I did that ​I was the one that who made him cover up 😔 #ok also the hair lmaoooooooo hahahashshs prince of eternia lookin ass #Simon really out here with that fuckass bob Konami what barber did you send him to #I forget that like there’s not the sections and piecing I usually draw and that he really just has his bangs straight cut in that #I guess the way I draw his hair is like a middle ground between his manual doodles and the cover art? #yeah that makes sense I’m using that explanation of it now XD #anyway love him I’ve got another page of him I’ll try to post soon hopefully #past that is some really quick OC concept sketches and like idk dissociating #aaa I gotta talk to people but I keep losing all track of time and then can’t because of guilt augh it’s a miracle I’m posting this rn tbh #daydreaming is a horrible coping mechanism don’t do it guys I’ve been stuck with it since fourth grade 💀💀💀💀💀💀 #it’s addictive it starts out like ‘time to imagine a character to this song :3’ then it’s been two months #vent in the tags #but mannnnnnn 😔😔😔 #anyway here’s a whole sketchbook page of my comfort character who hasn’t seen a day of comfort in his life uh— #idk if posting at like 10 PM at night is a good idea but eh whatever

[oldmemoria]

Second entry, Previous | Next

Sketchbook dump because I’m hhwhwhwhwhwhww tired from school

Some of these are from today some are from a week ago lesgo

1st one: a little practice 2-page spread I did a week or so ago so I could get used to drawing hobies hair (I’ve just been struggling with drawing hair a little in general recently idk what’s been going on) but uhhh yeah :) I’m pretty happy with it, I like the one highlighted in yellow on the left page (ignore the foo fighters sticker I got a cd that day so I kept the label for some reason, also my brother gave me that sticker real neat, also the page is so smudged omfg 😭)

2nd: (did this one and the rest today in my online classes because I was bored 🥱) inspired by a post I saw going in depth about Miguel’s personality (go read it, I reblogged it yesterday!!!) he is so kenough this might be my favorite drawing I’ve ever done with him :3 also ace Miguel is canon I’m Sony trust me guys

3rd: random dragon I drew and just made an OC. No they will probably not get any lore. They just exist. Hold your applause /j

4th: warriors au doodles!! Mostly some lore related stuff so I’ll go from left to right with some lil’ tidbits and facts

- the top drawing on the left page is of Reclusebite (Miguel) and his littermate, Dusty (Gabriel, Miguel’s canon brother from the comics that I hear are really bad so I refuse to read them). I don’t think I’ll ever really include Dusty in anything since idk much abt him but I think he’s quite the silly guy. Probably misses his brother because he went on to go start a little kitty club.

- the drawing under that is just a kind of like.. filler thing?? I like the idea of warriors having more than one apprentice for some reason so I liked the idea of Reclusestar having to mentor both Spikepaw (Hobie Brown) and Nightpaw (catified Spider-Man OC, he doesn’t do much storywise.). I think it’s funny. They probably bother him a lot but he still doesn’t care enough to be mad, just annoyed and disappointed sometimes.

- the right page is just spiderdad content because it is canon in this au hehehe,, I like my Brightsky (Peter B Parker) design a lot hes silly and kinda reminds me of fanon harestar designs.

Anyway that’s it I’m gonna post some digital art + headcanons sometimes soon hopefully :)

#across the spiderverse #atsv #lgbt #I have this pack of mildly goofy pride stickers I’m desperately trying to use lol #miguel o'hara #hobie brown #peter b parker #spiderdads #warrior cats #warriors au #wings of fire #sketchbook art #he is kenough #I propped my sketchbook up on on the true lives of the Fabulous Killjoys national anthem because this book is huge Jesus Christ #now I wanna draw killjoys art 😦 #I need to take a nap but I am physically incapable of doing that #spideys sketchbook #british spider #✮ Spider scribbles ✮

[angel-inked]

If they kept a journal

{Headcannons}

Because I always want to give characters journals for some reason 😅

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

Tommy Conlon/Riordan

Venting. Lots and lots of venting and messy drawings (he's trying to work through trauma, leave him be)

Likes journals that are a little on the small side cause it's easier to carry with him

Writing alone in a coffee shop with his headphones on

"I'll slap you" after Brendan tried to look at what he was writing (aka nosey older sibling syndrome)

Writes after fights to calm himself

Shopping lists, schedule for the week, reminders, things he hears people say in public, his commentary on whatever he's watching/listening to, anything and everything

Self-loathing and cocky confidence all in the same paragraph

Writes backward, in circles, with his non dominant hand, or turns the book upside down to amuse himself

The quietest people have the loudest minds

Spaces out in the middle of a sentence/word, he's trying to think but his thoughts tend to get away from him and are often times uncontrollable

Fidgeting with his pen or whatever he's writing with

Tried to make it neat and tidy once, but it didn't last long

can't stand to write in the presence of people he knows, especially his family, although he knows most of his marine buddies will respect his privacy

Starts every journal with the info on his dog tags (which he refuses to take off 99% of the time)

Eddie Brock

Is a literal journalist!

Rambling in his notes, doodles when bored (same goes for Vemon), daily records, existential crises in great detail

Got Vemon their own journal on the condition that they wouldn't hijack his hand when he was trying to write

Journals via symbiote, Vemon's memory is far better than his "remind me to write that down later,"

Vemon is a literal five-year old with their journal, "Eddie look!"

Sometimes, their minds blend together enough that they write the same thing in unison with each other

It doesn't matter which journal is whose, they're both just as chaotic as the other!

Vemon has chocolate wrappers plastered over most of the pages, and a list of what they call "Eddie things" (it's a list of stuff Eddie likes)

Vemon occasionally calls journals "decorating books"

Vemon definitely loves "wreck this journal"

Happy host (usually!) Means Happy Symbiote

Alfie Solomons

The rambling of a madman, that's what Tommy Shelby called it anyway. Alfie prefers "Fuckin' work of art" but to each his own

It's basically a more personal business ledger. Lists of allies, potential businesses and business partners, people he wants to get rid of. Meeting schedules (courtesy of Ollie), talking points for said meetings, and God only knows what else he comes up with

The only person beside Alfie himself to see the inside of that book is Ollie, under Alfie's supervision of course

Keeps it in a lockbox with a gun

"You want to see the book? What the fuck are you on about mate?!"

Mostly writes in larger print instead of cursive because his eyes ain't what they used to be, and looking at cursive gives him an eye strain headache

Definitely had rum spilled on it multiple times

Won't deny (at least not to Ollie) that he's thought about putting it in front of someone's head and shooting it

"Sometimes I think I should've shot you the first time I came here" a note written in the book by Tommy Shelby, who, in his defense, was left unsupervised

Writing for a moment, standing up to pace around the room, sits back down, repeat

Messy drawings of Cyril

Farrier (and Collins!)

Farrier just simply enjoys writing, it's peaceful

Collins often steals the book, flips to a random blank page, and writes little notes/inside jokes for his friend to find later

Pressed flowers, fountain pens, and cigarette smoke

Often writes on his smoke breaks

A growth chart for all the garden plants and a map of what's planted where

Ends his entries with mood indicators, ie (: or ):

Tallies up dogfights between him and Collins to see who gets playful teasing/bragging rights

Started keeping a journal when he first joined RAF, after a chat with an older pilot who told him stories that he said he wrote down "so the good memories would last longer"

Likes to write in his cockpit, it's one of the places he's most comfortable

"There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there aren't any old bold pilots, mate!"

Cloud/brid watching and writing about what he sees

Collins likes to chat with Farrier as he writes, Farrier enjoys the company

They have definitely had conversations by writing notes and passing the book to each other

Detailed sketches of planes, especially spitfires!

Wondering through the woods and forests and documenting his adventure and exploration

Writes about how he'd like a pet but doesn't think he could stand to be away from it so much

Forrest Bondurant

Fountain pens and scuffed leather bound blank pages drowned in the sent of cigar smoke

Has definitely smacked Howard over the head with it

Poems, philosophy, metaphors, drawings and detailed descriptions of plants and what they can be used for, the different moonshine recipes the brothers use, short stories, bank balance cause he couldn't be bothered to find his legder

Craves his initials into the cover with his pocket knife

Howard calls his journals "a wealth of knowledge"

No matter how tempting, neither Jack nor Howard dare to trifle with their brother's journal

Morning stream of consciousness pages as he drinks his coffee

Sitting at his desk late at night, can't sleep, journaling in his office with a cigar between his lips

Documents the odd (lucid) dreams that he has on occasion, attempting to figure out what they are

Depictions of three wolves, each wolf representing one of the three brothers. Wolves are fiercely protective of their family, just like the brothers

#if they kept a journal #tom hardy #tommy conlon warrior #eddie brock/venom symbiote #alfie solomons peaky blinders #farrier/collins #forrest bondurant lawless #headcannons #hopefully writing out stuff like this will get rid of my writers block #hope you enjoy

[afunfunkytime]

Journals

Most of the states keep journals and have kept them for decades

They don't all use them the same

California mostly sketches scenes from his day alongside neat descriptions in different pen colours, Mississippi writes flowery descriptions of everything and anything with the words simply being written down mattering more than whether those words made sense, Florida's are crazy scrawls of little comic strips acting out his day with his stories playing out in picture format on scrap paper bound with whatever he could find

Some keep their old journals, others have lost theirs to time or deliberately destroyed them

Its a nice way for them to remember the past and avoid forgetting the little things over the centuries, such as people or places that haven't made it to the present

Sometimes they flick through them and just... remember. It's calming. Simpler times.

Not all the memories are nice, sometimes they stumble upon pages dedicated to lost mortal friends, or to wars, pain, suffering

Immortality is not kind to the soul

If you were to read through just one journal from one year from one state, you'd find a lot of emotions both positive and negative. I'm not immortal so I can't speak from personal experience, but watching your friends grow old and die whilst you don't has gotta hurt like hell

Alas, positive stuff!

Some states print out photos to add to their journals- especially Tennessee. Most of his is just pictures of his dogs.

Louisiana's journal is full of recipes, passed down from generations of Louisianans to him. He has a little section at the top of each recipe dedicated to the person who gave it to him. He has a few pages dedicated to his cooking experiments, little notes for things to tweak about his recipes. Most pages relate to his hijinks with Florida though, he always wants to remember those.

I mentioned California's before about the doodling, but his journal also doubles as a sketchbook. He paints, he draws, he doodles, he jots, he tells stories through art of any and every medium. It's therapeutic. Sometimes he'll stick photos of scenery in there. His journal is the most Pinterest-y. He likes to take aesthetic photos of less intense pages for his Instagram.

Nevada's has a glittery zebra stripe cover and he writes everything with an unnecessarily large glittery gel pen with a pom pom on the end. Don't tell me he doesn't. He draws clothing sketches in free space, little models and ideas for later. His journal is moreso in 'Dear diary,' format, he addresses a person instead of just putting his words down. He doesn't know who the 'you' he references is, but it feels right.

I'll probably post a part two to this. I think. I have lots of ideas for lots of things.

#ben brainard #welcome to the statehouse #welcome to the table #wttsh #wttt #the table #they're ARTSY #y'all cant tell me nevadas isn't glittery #louisiana my beloved

[your-local-grubdog]

Pikmin Fandom Monthly - March 2023

Welcome to the March edition of Pikmin Fandom Monthly! For anyone new here, this is just a little monthly series where on the first day of each month, I share neat fan projects from the pikmin fandom made in the previous month! Today's is a day late and shorter than ideal unfortunately; I had some technical hiccups this past month that resulted in most of my saved posts being lost :( so I spent yesterday trying to find some more to make up for my lost notes. This time, I was able to get some feedback as well so I got some suggestions here not from me!

On that note, please feel free to leave suggestions in the comments about what April 2023 works should be included in the next edition! Any creative pikmin fan work is welcome, so long as it was made during this April.

Just like last time, this was cross-posted to the Pikmin Park community on dream width!

Now, lets get onto the art! Fanart and One-Panel Comics

First up is a very cute drawing of a hairy bulborb staring up at the stars by Louivi on Tumblr! It's such a soft and pretty peice with an almost dreamy feel to it, I love it!

Piper on Tumblr drew this ADORABLE art of the pikmin with Oatchi and oh my god I love this so much, Oatchi's eyes are so big and cute and I adore this so much!!!

Pikmin OCs need more love! So here's a really cute doodle of two different yellow pikmin OCs by Spr1ngPeach! I don't know much about either character, but the drawing is very cute. I like it a lot!Pikmin are chaotic little beasts. Feral toddlers, if you will. So clearly, we should arm them all with knives (/sar). In all seriousness though, ikol-art on tumblr drew this adorable little red pikmin with a very large knife. I love it so much, it's great.

Pizza pikmin? Pizza pikmin! By extremelylost360 on tumblr. What more need I say? It's pizza pikmin!

This one is a bit different! Most art here is 2D, but this is an entire 3D render of the Forest of Hope by kinpraw on Twitter! I love the style, it looks like something out of a stop motion movie.

Cece on twitter drew us some more Oatchi cuteness, showing him with an adorable little ice pikmin on his back! The icemin's face is precious - you can say it's melting my heart! ... yeah okay I'll see myself out for that one -

But not before sharing this cute project! Heronin on Twitter is adding to a huge doodle page every day until pikmin 4 comes out! Here's the update for March 31st! I'll see about featuring it every month as an update, but I'll certainly share the final product come July! 

Hey!Pikmin also deserves some love, no? Well I say it does! And this fireflap bulborb was drawn by Taylor C on Twitter! I just really like the soft lines and warm colors. Other Works Firstly, we have this mixed media sculpture (mostly clay) of some pikmin growing in a pot by Tete's DIY! The link is to a video, so you can see how they made it as well! Last but certainly not least is Bikmin 269, a rom-hack of the second game (link is to the trailer). Honestly, I don't know much about it! It was recommended to me by a trusted friend, and I've yet to had the time to play it for myself. Most I can say is to check it out - and know that the creators say that it is best enjoyed as blind as possible!And with that, these are the April works that I wanted to feature (and that I was able to find again after the tech stuff -w- ). I'll hopefully see you at the start of May with April's works, assuming that my finals don't eat me alive! Seriously, though, while I'll try to get it out May 1st don't be surprised if it's delayed by a whole week on account of finals season! ^^;

#pikmin #pikmin fandom #borb screams

[noxchievous]

Almost forgot to post again LOL !!!!!!!!!! This is a little page I made to figure out what Cymophanes (Cateye’s type of gem) (my oc) would look like other than her. Explanation + another doodle below cut (ranted a bit more than intended)

The idea of people as props or furniture is something Rebecca Sugar wanted Homeworld to really embody, and I think that’s a really neat and cool idea, so I figure I’d make these guys little statues/figurines. They’re gifts to Pink from the other diamonds, mostly Blue, who gave her a new one every time she felt guilty for locking Pink up and stuff. They’re supposed to show off the brilliance of gem production, which why they’re all Chatoyant. Sort of showing off that the diamonds know exactly what each type of gem needs to form in certain ways. Maybe in the future I’ll make different kinds of chatoyant gems be structurally different instead of just different colors, but this is what I came up with at the time. It serves well enough and I like the idea.

+ here’s Pink’s little room where she keeps her collection of them + a height comparison (don’t mind they look bad. Just doodle for concept.) (I might make cymophanes wayyy smaller like just a hair taller than a sapphire)

I don’t think Pink would like the cymophanes. She’d think of them as a reminder for every time the diamonds hurt her.

#traditional art #su #steven universe #I checked and apparently I still don’t have a tag for these ocs life is HELL !!! #making one up on the spot one second …… #Lemmy&Cateye #Sorry for not being creative LOL !!! #concept art #Cateye was a gift from white btw

[gaygryffindorgal]

HPMA; Dawncey ficlets, part 7

Quincey and Dawn haven’t talked since the incident during the party. Then Dawn is in need of a nap...

Words: 2.5k

A/N: Nothing explicit in this chapter!

MCs included:

Dawn Harvelle by @potionboy3

MCs mentioned:

Jimmy Crouch by @potionboy3​

Lainey Bell by @gcldensnitch​

​Beginning ｜Previous Chapter｜Next Chapter

October 9th, 2012

Quincey was hardly listening to Professor McGonagall. It was the first class Hufflepuff shared with Gryffindor since the party, and Dawn was nowhere to be seen. Quincey was scared Dawn was avoiding him again, but he had his doubts even Dawn would go as far as to skip classes just to stay out of his sight. Quincey got his answer, when the classroom door flew open, and Dawn rushed in.

“Sorry professor,” he said, out of breath. “I was at practice and lost track of time.”

McGonagall gave Dawn an appraising look. “While I appreciate your dedication to your House team, I expect you to come to class in time, Mr. Harvelle.”

“Yes professor, sorry professor,” Dawn replied, looking for a place to sit. Quincey didn’t fail to notice that the only free seat was the one next to his. Dawn noticed too and locked eyes with him.

“Take your seat now,” McGonagall told him, and Dawn came over. He didn’t look at Quincey as he sat down. Quincey didn’t have any easier time concentrating for the rest of the class.

~

The minutes seemed to tick by painfully slowly. As the class was finally, mercifully, dragging to close, Quincey had all but given up taking notes. He tried to listen but mostly he tried not to be aware of Dawn’s presence right next to him. Dawn, apparently, had it in his head to make Quincey’s life unbearable. He laid his hand on the desk, right next to Quincey’s. Quincey glanced at Dawn from the corner of his eye. He was still taking notes, seemingly unaware of their hands laid out right next to each other. Except that he moved his pinky finger slightly, brushing against Quincey’s hand. Quincey looked at him. Dawn was still not looking back. Quincey felt his heart flutter in his chest. Then, to make matters worse, Dawn put his hand on top of Quincey’s. It was embarrassing how that was enough to send sparks down his spine. When McGonagall dismissed the class, Quincey didn’t move. Dawn pulled his hand away and started packing his things.

“Hey, Dawn?” Quincey asked.

Dawn turned to look at him. “Alderly.”

“Did you write down the part on conjuration?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Could I… see?”

Dawn pulled his notebook out of his bag and handed it to Quincey. “Sure.”

His notes were neat, and the page was decorated with doodles. Quincey examined the drawings.

“These are really good,” he told Dawn.

“I have a good handwriting, I get that a lot,” Dawn said.

“No, I meant the drawings,” Quincey corrected.

“Oh, those,” Dawn said. “I was bored.”

“They’re cool,” Quincey said and wrote down what he figured was important about conjuration.

“Were you distracted during the class?”

“Yes… Yes, a little.”

“That happens to me a lot,” Dawn said. “But I’m good at multitasking.”

“I’m definitely not,” Quincey admitted. He had enough trouble trying to get his brain to cooperate with one task.

“No wonder you suck at polo,” Dawn teased.

“I don’t suck… Well, maybe I do.”

The last of the students trickled out of the class. Quincey considered asking about the hand holding but he decided against it. He handed Dawn’s notes back to him. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” said Dawn and put the notes back in his bag. “Ready to go?”

Quincey stared at him.

“Hello…?”

“Uh, yes, let’s go.”

“After you, sweet prince,” Dawn said, and Quincey rolled his eyes but smiled.

~

They walked side by side out of the classroom. Quincey wasn’t sure where they were going but he wasn’t about to ask. It was Dawn who broke the silence.

“How are things?”

“Just fine… thank you for asking,” said Quincey. “And with you?”

“Busy,” Dawn said. “With Quidditch and such…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Takes most of my free time.”

“You were late today because you were practicing?”

Dawn nodded. He did look a little tired. Shadows under his eyes that Quincey didn’t remember seeing there before.

“That’s dedication,” Quincey noted.

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed. “I’m exhausted, though.”

“Oh?”

“It’s always like this early in the season,” Dawn explained. “Takes time to find balance, at least for me.”

“Yeah.”

“Slowing down and relaxing is really not my thing,” answered Dawn.

“You probably hear this too much, but you need to rest.”

“Not that much, really,” Dawn said. “People just assume I have limitless energy.”

“Well, you do seem like that sometimes.”

“Not today, I’m afraid.”

“Can I do something?” asked Quincey.

“Like punch me unconscious?”

“Well, no,” Quincey chuckled. “Maybe not that.”

“Are you offering to help me relax?”

“Oh, well, yes,” Quincey stumbled over his words. “If you want to, that is.”

“Are you offering to do yoga with me?”

“Yoga–?” Quincey started. “Oh, ha ha.”

Dawn laughed, grabbed his arm, and pulled him along to an abandoned corridor.

“I don’t think this is the best place to do yoga,” said Quincey.

“Then forget the yoga.”

“Excellent idea,” Quincey agreed and pulled Dawn into a kiss. Dawn wrapped his arms around Quincey and kissed him back. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, only that it was a bad idea and that he hadn’t wanted anything more in a long time. Dawn was going to snap out of it at some point anyway, but at the minute Quincey was prepared to have his heart broken, if it meant he could have this for just a little while longer.

“We keep meeting like this,” Dawn observed.

“Yeah, it seems that way.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re, like, my nemesis.”

Quincey stifled a laugh. “I think I am your nemesis, yeah.”

“Then why are you the one who’s always avoiding me?” asked Dawn, and he seemed to be serious. Jesus Christ.

“Come here,” said Quincey and pulled him into another kiss. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“Wait,” said Dawn and placed a hand on his chest. “This isn’t going to… change anything? Is it?”

Quincey sighed. “No, of course not.”

Dawn kissed him again.

“I have an idea,” said Quincey.

“Is it a dirty idea?” Dawn inquired.

“No, not really,” Quincey said. “Come with me.”

He started towards the Hufflepuff common room, Dawn following him. It was as stupid of a plan as any of his plans had been lately, but suddenly he didn’t care that much about spending Saturday in detention, if Dawn could get a couple of hours of sleep.

“Are you taking me where I think you’re taking me?” asked Dawn. He had that glint in his eyes again.

“You need rest.”

“Ooohh, rest, is it?”

“Yes, a nap.”

“Nothing’s going knock me out better than exhausting myself,” Dawn smirked.

“You’re awful.”

Dawn laughed and Quincey was stupidly in love with him and his life sucked.

~

It was surprisingly easy to sneak Dawn into his dorm in the middle of the day when there was barely anyone there. All he did was give him his Hufflepuff tie and hope no one took close enough of a look. There was no one in his dorm, thankfully. He suspected all the boys had classes or extracurriculars, so he wasn’t too worried they’d show up. Or if they did, that they’d particularly care.

“I’m bad influence, babes,” said Dawn.

“Or maybe I am?” suggested Quincey in return. Dawn scoffed.

“Is this a good time to admit I don’t really like yellow?” Dawn asked. He was looking at the canopied beds with disdain.

“Hey, yellow is nice.”

“I suppose it is sort of cozy, in a Hobbit hole kind of way.”

Quincey smiled and sat on his bed. “So, you like it?”

“I suppose I like it,” Dawn admitted. “The yellow compliments the wood tones nicely.”

Quincey laughed and Dawn walked up to him. “This yours?”

“Yeah,” said Quincey, nodding. Dawn sat on his lap and Quincey’s heart did cartwheels.

“Hi,” Dawn said. He had a soft, tired smile on his face.

“Hey.”

Dawn kissed him. They kept kissing for a while like that, and it was all kinds of exciting to have a boy in his bed, on his lap.

“What were you saying about a nap?” Dawn asked after a while.

Quincey laughed. “It’s why we’re here.”

“In your bed.”

“In my bed.”

“A very soft bed,” said Dawn got up from his lap and lied on his back, pulling Quincey along.

“Yeah…”

They kissed again, and suddenly Quincey was keenly aware of how intimate the situation was. Dawn and he had had their encounters in places much less private.

“Nap,” said Dawn.

“Yeah,” said Quincey and wrapped an arm around Dawn’s waist.

“Sweet dreams.”

“You too, love,” Quincey whispered and then immediately regretted it. It was vastly different to call Dawn love in a mocking way in the middle of an argument than… whatever this was. Dawn tensed slightly under his arm. Quincey buried his face in Dawn’s neck, he couldn’t look at him.

“Does anyone know?” asked Dawn after a beat of silence.

“Know what?” asked Quincey.

“That you’re gay?”

“Oh…” Quincey muttered. “No, not really.”

“No one?”

“Olympia might know but not because I told her.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t for sure, I mean Lainey might also know…”

“I meant how did you find out that you… were gay?”

“I... well a girl kissed me, and I didn't much like it,” Quincey said quietly. “I thought; hmm, maybe this would be nice if it was Brendon Urie or... Harry Potter,” he let out a small laugh. “Christ, I had such a crush on Harry Potter.”

“Funny,” said Dawn. “I’ve been compared to Harry Potter.”

Quincey sighed. Dawn could be so incredibly thick when he wanted to. “Yeah,” he just said. He didn’t have patience to explain to Dawn the implications of what he’d just said.

“Are you into emo music?” Dawn asked.

“That’s your takeaway?” Quincey asked. He was truly so baffled at how Dawn’s mind worked.

“It just stood out.”

“I like Panic! At the Disco, a prince can have taste, you know.”

“I don’t know if I’d call that taste,” Dawn remarked. Quincey laughed.

“Do you think you’re ever going to tell people?” asked Dawn.

“I don’t know, it’s all so complicated.”

“I bet.”

“I wish it wasn’t.”

Dawn petted his hair.

“I wish I was just a nobody.”

Dawn sighed. “I had no idea.”

“That’s the idea.”

“No,” Dawn corrected. “I meant I had no idea who you were, you just surprise me, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Quincey sighed. He was so gone for this boy it was embarrassing.

“So, kissing girls? That’s not what you do?” Dawn asked, changing the subject.

“I can if I have to,” Quincey said. “I’m something of an actor on that department.”

“Which one do you do more?”

“I don’t actually get to kiss that many boys, believe it or not.”

Dawn made a dissatisfied sound. “That’s unfair.”

“Well, I’m richer than God so that makes up for the homophobia, mostly.”

“I don’t think that’s true if it means you have to play a role for the rest of your life,” said Dawn.

“I’m good at it though,” Quincey said. “I mean, you believed it, and you’re brilliant.”

“Oh, I’m not very smart when it comes to these things,” Dawn said. “When Jimmy came out, I thought he was joking.”

“Your best friend Jimmy?”

“One of them, but yes. He’s bi.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“He just dropped it in a conversation, all casually,” Dawn continued. “I honestly didn’t think he knew what a feeling is.”

“I am kind of scared of him,” Quincey admitted.

“He’s all bark no bite.”

“Good to know.”

“I kissed him once,” Dawn said, quite casually, to Quincey’s amusement.

“You did?”

“I thought it might be fun, but he said I’m a bad kisser.”

“You…” Quincey laughed. “You’re not bad, but that’s still funny.”

“Ha, suck it, Jimmy!”

“Yeah, suck it,” Quincey said, smiling against Dawn’s skin. Dawn yawned and Quincey pulled him closer. “How about that nap, now?”

“Yeah,” Dawn said quietly and pressed a kiss on Quincey’s head.

~

They slept for too long. Quincey was woken up when he heard noises from the stairs. He poked Dawn and told him to hide under the bed, which he did with the agility of a Quidditch player. Quincey made small talk with his dormmates who didn’t leave, so Dawn was stuck under the bed until after dark. It was hilarious and awful at the same time, and Quincey knew he was never going to hear the end of it. So, he did homework, revised his Charms essay, and bided his time. Once he was fairly certain he could sneak Dawn out without further complications, he peaked under the bed.

“Dawn?” he whispered.

The boy was asleep under the bed, using a book as a pillow. It was open on the last pages, so he must’ve spent the hours reading, until falling asleep. He looked very different asleep, still, calm. Quincey forced himself to stop staring and poked him.

“Dawn.”

Dawn stirred, lifted his head and hit it on the bed. “Ow…”

“Are you okay?” Quincey asked.

“Uh… yes, I must have taken a nap…”

“Yeah,” said Quincey, smiling. “You must’ve. Come on, we have to sneak you out.”

“Best hurry, I don’t want to go back down there, although the nap was relaxing.”

Quincey smiled and headed out. There were a couple of people still in the common room and he was pretty sure Barbara Katz gave Dawn an odd look, but she didn’t say anything.

~

Once outside, Quincey could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was something,” he said.

“I guess I got what I needed,” said Dawn. “Plus, a sore back.”

“Christ, I’m sorry, it was a bad idea.”

“Not your fault.”

“It was my idea,” said Quincey.

“You didn’t count on us sleeping for so long.”

Quincey sighed. “Yeah, okay, but… still.”

“It was kind of exciting, actually.”

“Exciting? What if one of my dormmates turned out to be a twat and turned us in?”

“What can I say, you’re Prince Charming, I’m just daring.”

Quincey rolled his eyes. “Oh my god…”

“I’m joking, you’re not charming at all, you’re Prince Pisses-Me-Off.”

“Watch out, you almost said something nice to me,” Quincey observed.

“I know, you’ve cast a spell on me.”

“A spell,” said Quincey. “Sure…”

Dawn pushed his arm gently and Quincey pushed him back. It almost felt like bantering with a friend. Dawn laughed, and the sound echoed in the empty corridor. A few paintings shushed them, annoyed. Quincey kissed Dawn and felt like on top of the world. It really was an emotional roller coaster in his head.

“Good night, Prince Pisses-Me-Off,” Dawn wished, when they pulled apart.

“Good night, idiot” Quincey said, smiling like an idiot. He watched after Dawn as he headed towards the stairs leading up from the dungeons.

#hpma fic #dawncey #dawn harvelle #quincey alderly #*my writing #*mine #she's here; part 7 #just fluff this time

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Cool People Don’t Draw Bees: One

Read on A03!!

Main character(s): Tubbo

Reblogs are a writers best friend, y’all! They really do help out a ton!!

~~~

Tubbo waits.

He swings his legs on the bench, counting all the cracks in the sidewalk. The other kids say that if you step on one it'll break your mum's back, but that can't be true, because Tubbo has stepped on many sidewalk cracks and his mum's back is just fine.

There's a trail of ants by the bench. They traverse the concrete in a neat line, each carrying crumbs on top of them. Probably heading back to their home to stock up for winter, or to give to their babies. Come to think of it, how do ants feed their babies? Do they mash the crumbs up first, like baby food? Hand it to them whole? Line it up like a buffet?

Tubbo will have to find out soon. Maybe he can get a magnifying glass and peek into an ant hill tomorrow. 

Tubbo sighs, glancing up and raking his eyes over the park. It's mostly bare. There's a few people walking around, wearing hats and sweaters, some walking dogs, but all the other kids who'd been waiting to be picked up are gone.

Hm. Tubbo wonders what it's like to ride on the big yellow buses; they're probably quite loud. And smelly. And chaotic. Fights probably break out inside. Lunches thrown every which way. Kids crying. Overall, it's likely a very miserable experience. 

But still, Tubbo can't help but think it would be preferable to spending so much time on this bench, waiting for his parents to show up.

They're always late. They've always been late, for as long as he can remember. Not that they mean to, of course; they're just busy. They have all these grown-up things to do, and sometimes that gets in the way of picking up Tubbo.

Which is fine. Tubbo doesn't mind waiting, especially when the weather's nice. He can swing his legs on the bench, or draw in his notebook, or watch ants, or find shapes in the clouds, or splash in puddles if it recently rained, or sniff flowers, or pet bumblebees. 

Bumblebees are actually really friendly, despite how freaked out the other kids seem to get when one flies close by. They're big and round and fuzzy, and don't sting when Tubbo gently strokes his finger along their back. All bees are friendly, actually. It's the wasps and hornets that you have to watch out for.

A wind blows through, and Tubbo squints into it, his hair flying out of place. Maybe he should get it cut soon. It's starting to get tangles, and it's painful to brush through them.

Yes. Yes, he should get it cut. He'll tell his mum when she gets here. 

Tubbo glances up at the sky. The sun has sunk significantly lower since he last checked; he guesses that thirty, maybe forty-five minutes have gone by. 

He sighs, sinking lower into the bench. At least it's not cold. It's not fun at all when it's cold.

He still wishes that his parents would show up, though. 

He bends down, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his green notebook. He doesn't actually use this one for school—he has other notebooks for that. No no, he uses this one for doodling. 

Tubbo really likes to doodle. It's fun to sketch out little comics or bees; they're not complicated, or overly detailed. Some would say that they're not even that good. 

But Tubbo likes them all the same. Besides, doodling means he doesn't have to write. He hates writing. He hates the way all the letters get scrambled and jump around the page like acrobats. Doodling doesn't have any of that; doodles stay right where they're supposed to stay. 

Clicking his mechanical pencil, Tubbo sets to work. 

He draws a bee sniffing a flower, with it's eyes pinched closed in happiness. The sun beams behind it, and Tubbo wishes he had colored pencils or crayons to add a bit of life to the page.

He finishes, pulling away and looking over his work. It's very good, if a bit bland.

Tubbo flips the page and starts drawing something else.

The sun drifts ever lower in the sky.

____

Tubbo finishes seventeen more pages before he's forced to stop, the setting sun having gotten rid of most of the light. He'd drawn more bees, more flowers, a few comics, some pizza, and a stylized version of himself, waving towards the camera with a big smile on his face.

Maybe he should've made his smile a bit less big, though. After all, he's not smiling right now.

In fact, he's a bit cold. 

Tubbo wraps his arms around himself, staring up into the sky. He can see a star up there. At least, he thinks it's a star. It could be an airplane. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. 

Regardless, the sky is dark, and Tubbo's parents still haven't shown up. 

Briefly, he wonders why the other kids parent's show up on time while his don't. Is it because they're not as busy? Not as slow? Less forgetful?

Do they... love their kids more than Tubbo's parents love him?

He supposes it's possible. The other kids do better at school than him. They have more friends, higher grades. In almost every way they're better than he is. Maybe that's why their parents show up on time, and why his don't.

Tubbo bites his lip. He doesn't like that idea very much.

He shakes his head, getting rid of the thought like an etch-a-sketch. That can't be it. His parents aren't like that. Surely not.

"Surely not..." Tubbo mutters to himself, swinging his legs again. The ants have long since disappeared, headed back to their home in the ground. It sure would be nice if Tubbo's flat was closer to the school. Then he could walk there, instead of waiting at this bench.

But his apartment is not within walking distance, so he doesn't really have a choice. 

So Tubbo continues to wait. 

More stars appear in the sky, blinking on, one by one.

Tubbo's still cold.

#Dream SMP #DSMP #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fanfiction #Tubbo #dsmp tubbo #DSMP au #my stories #c!tubbo #crime boys modern au

[asexual-spongebob]

The Waves That Lap The Shore - Chapter Ten - Peso and Shellington and The Angel Shark

Chapter Notes

PEARL MY BELOVED!!!! I love her so much!

All im giving away for chapter 11 is that there’s gonna be some hurt/comfort stuff!

ALSO FUCK YEAH ANGELSHARK !!!(im surprised there isn’t a episode abt that tbh, unless their is and I just missed it)

I’m really excited to post chapter 12 bc something will happen >:3 I love sublime and weezer so I added some references :’3 sorry that this is so short btw Im not giving context to the artwork in this one lmao 😭

Tweak and Kwazii were playing Super Mario Brothers on Tweak’s Nintendo 64 while Sublime was blasting from the speakers.

Peso and Shellington went down to the Launch Bay “I smoke two joints in the morning. I smoke two joints at night!” Kwazii and Tweak chanted. 

“what are they singing?” Peso asked, glancing at Shellington “a sublime song” Shellington answered. 

•••

Peso and Shellington went for a swim out of boredom.

Shellington and Peso swam around on the sea floor, until Shellington heard some strange noises “what was that?” Shellington questioned, Peso just shrugged its shoulders, Shellington whipped  out his magnify glass and figured out what was making the noise. An Angelshark! 

“I know what’s the making the noise!” Shellington proclaimed, “it’s an Angelshark! They’re critically endangered! Come on Peso let’s go see what’s wrong!” Shellington guided, dragging Peso over to the hurt creature.

Shellington carefully swam towards the shark, he knew not to disturb it “hey there, is something wrong?” Shellington asked softly, the Angelshark nodded “well we’re the Octonauts! I’m Shellington and this is Peso! We’re here to help!” Shellington informed “Hi Peso! Hi Shellington! I’m Angie and my tail hurts” she frowned, showing the injury. 

Her tail was bruised. Peso took a closer look “now hold still Angie!” Peso stated,  wrapping the bandage around Angie’s bruised tail “that feels so much better!”  Angie remarked “thank you!” she said before swimming off into the distance “Bye Angie! Take care!” Shellington called, “adiós!” Peso called, both waving goodbye. 

•••

By the time Peso and Shellington got back Tweak and Kwazii were still playing video games and blasting Sublime and singing it at the top of their lungs, Peso went to the sick bay to restock some of it’s supplies and Shellington went to his lab to read a book about Lion Fish for fun.

Shellington was very invested, taking long pages of notes and doodles as a slowed reverb version of “Why Bother” by Weezer played in the background. 

However, the sound of his phone ringing interrupted his train of thought.

“Oh!” Shellington jolted up Pearl was calling him! 

Shellington picked up the phone “hello!” Shellington greeted “hey there Shellie! How’s it going?” Pearl greeted back “it’s been going great!” Shellington beamed.

The two talked for a bit, mostly catching up and infodumping, Peso and Kwazii were also with him. However Shellington had almost forgotten to tell her one thing. 

“Hey I think there’s something you should know.” Shellington began Pearl went silent, Shellington guessed she was confused “Im a fish.” Shellington dropped the bombshell “huh?” Pearl mumbled “merman..” Shellington clarified “yeah he went to these weird ass sea caves and they turned him into a merman.” Kwazii added “oh! Neat!” Pearl replied. 

“We’re not sure why it happened but we think it’s pretty cool!” Peso chimed in, after Shellington and Pearl talked for a little longer they said their goodbyes and hung up. 

“That went better than I expected.” Shellington put simply, placing his phone in the desk, Tunip waddled into the room “dinner is done!” He said “what did he say?” Kwazii mrrped 

“he said dinner is done” Shellington clarified, getting up from his chair and rushing down to the Octo-chute, Peso and Kwazii following behind.

The Vegimals had made garlic buttered noodles with some water  on the side, Shellington sat down, along with Peso and Kwazii.

Captain Barnacles and Inkling were talking about something, Kwazii and Tweak were having a conversation about Sublime, Dashi and Shellington were talking about clams and Peso was playing with the Vegimals.

#kitty giggles #octonauts #the waves that lap the shore au

[doodleybugg]

regulus black hc's that have ✨nothing✨to do with canon (heavy jegulus)

showers daily

and uses a TON of hot water

it drives sirius mad

also can't eat anything spicy

but insists he can

tried to do so to impress james because sirius said james liked spicy foods

cried for hours afterwards because his tongue hurted

james actually got him a big glass of milk and assured him that sirius was definitely lying and that james doesn't care for spicy foods

reg is still embarrassed to this day

whenever reg gets upset he likes to draw

nothing in particular, just mostly either doodles or scribbles on a blank page

he's exceptional at hands and noses

he draws people's noses

one time he was hanging out with pandora

and she saw one page of his sketchbook

"is that my nose?"

"what?! no, no of course it isn't! you're crazy"

it was her nose, really detailed too

he got everything, the tiny curve from when it was broken it second year, he even drew the scab from when they'd tried to pierce it in third

he draws james' nose the most

or sometimes his hands after quidditch practice

he somehow knows how to draw texture, but not making it creepy

if you look at his sketches, you can easily tell which body part belongs to who

he draws the one mole on james' left thumb, and the bruises from that one particular time james fell off his broom and his palms caught his fall

he'll only ever show you the book if you're really close, he thinks it's weird and judges himself

the only people that know are evans and pandora

maybe lily but he doesn't know she's seen it

moving on cuz i could talk about that for hours lolz

he talks really quietly

not on purpose, he just doesn't have a volume switch

but sometimes when he's excited he'll laugh really loud, or talk all jittery

it makes james blush

he writes little stories, is thinking of being an author when he grows up (oh sweetie..)

he bases the characters off his friends and classmates

the main villain is based off sirius, and the henchman is his mom

but (spoilers for his book!!) the man villain joins the good guys in the end, the henchman was the bad guy all along

ofc remus helps proofread it

he's got like 32 chapters so far

with more to come

some days he skips morning classes to write

meaning his attendance isn't as good as he'd like it to be

but he swears he does all the work and understands everything! (see, marisol in the first episode of mr. iglesias)

speaking of mr. iglesias, he makes me think of mikey

marisol being james

he actually took swimming lessons when he was younger

but he wasn't so good

still, he knew how to (kinda) doggy paddle

he looks likes he's drowning every time he tries though, with all the splashing

his animagi is a cat (i think i've read this off of someone's hc's, or maybe it's canon in the headcanon world or something, but lemme build on it)

he turns into a black cat with long, neat fur and piercing blue eyes

nobody knew about it

he went out into the woods every full moon after figuring out that moony was a werewolf and the marauders did that to help him

they barely noticed him, but he was mostly in the outskirts of the forest to keep watch

if anyone tried to go in, he'd distract them and lead them back out by either hissing, growling, or straight up clawing

he accidentally brought it up in an argument with sirius

they were fighting over god knows what

"you know what, you're just like our parents" sirius shouted, and it felt like regulus had barbed wire clenching around his chest

"i'm nothing like them at all! they would let you kill those children" regulus regretted his words, but knew that he couldn't take them back once they were out

"what the fuck are you talking about?!" sirius doesn't sound angry anymore, startled though, he truly is oblivious

peter glances anxiously between the two

"who do you think that cat is?!" regulus says shortly, harshly

it dawns upon them

"i sit in the forest every month, cold and alone! i make sure to lead all those people away from where you and your fucking friends are all goofing around so they don't fucking die! a thank you would suffice, you- you selfish asshole!"

regulus recoils at his own words, he didn't mean to tell them like that

that was the loudest he's ever spoken (maybe not including the one time he yelled at his mom to distract her from crucioing sirius

she just crucioed him instead)

the marauders all look at him, remus looks like a deer in headlights

sirius doesn't know what to say, he just thought it was a wild cat, maybe someone's pet

"regulus" james starts

"save it"

and regulus is gone, walking very quickly down the hall, hoping he can make it to the safety of his bed before he cries

that night, he drew a cat's face

he's not as good at drawing animals, he admits

but it was a nice, different texture to attempt

he drew antlers, and scratch marks

he drew a dogs footprint in the mud

he drew a rat, small but disheveled, with a little 'squeak' in tiny handwriting

he liked to draw the fur, every miniscule line left him more calm than when the night first began

he didn't sleep, but it was fine

he felt more relaxed than any dream could let him

a couple weeks go by and he can't bring himself to speak to anyone in the marauders

he was less talkative with his friends, spent more time in his room than anywhere else

lily noticed this, and asked him about it one time

he didn't say anything, and she told him she was there for him, and so was sirius

"why would you say that? you don't know him. he doesn't like me"

"i don't think sobbing on remus' shoulder about 'i fucked up, ohhhh i fucked up, i need my brother' (lily mocked a drunk, sad sirius perfectly) means he doesn't like you" lily rolled her eyes

regulus thought for a second, disbelief shuddering through him again

"then why are you here, why not him?"

"you are LOOKING for a reason to be mad, aren't you? who do you think sent me? he thought you'd get pandora to jump him if he even tried to say hi"

"i-... need to go talk to him"

"potions class" lily said, though she barely finished her two words before reg was runnin

oki oki enough with the angsty angst jeez (though i might write a full on story/blurb about that if yall want because AAA)

reg likes to daydream

during breakfast, he'll sit at the table

he'll think of going with sirius to spend christmas at the potters

but he knows they'd never bring him along

even if they did, what if he made a fool of himself

(surprise surprise, once siri and reg made up, james invited him

and remus told him he could hang out with them in the forest

peter was a little insecure about it because "we have enough members as is, guys :((" )

or of his book getting sold out all over the world, people making fanfiction off his stories

he wondered what his parents would think of him if they knew who he was

because he was just like sirius, he hated their blood purity nonsense, he wanted nothing more than to speak out

but he was smarter than sirius, he kept his mouth shut, he was quiet about his beliefs and let them believe he was their only good child left

he didn't hang gryffindor banners in his room, or band posters, he hand empty walls

his bookshelves were neat, tidy, whereas sirius' floor held his papers, his quills, his books

he wanted freedom, to be let go

he really did

(I WENT RIGHT BACK INTO THE ANGST WTF OKAY)

reg doesn't eat normally, let's say that

he lives mainly off fruit and bread

during breakfast, he doesn't grab full plates of pancakes and syrup and bacon like everyone

he has a big pile of berries, especially raspberries, they're his favourite, but some strawberries and diced watermelon

he likes to dip them in honey

maybe before quidditch, he'll grab some sausages and maple syrup, but only a tiny bit

and french toast, with powdered sugar and lime juice (try it, it's AMAZING

lunch is maybe the closest to normal meal he'll eat

there's different foods every time, he likes when there's ravioli (but the three cheese kind)

(i know i'm putting weird foods on the table here but idk what they feed children there i'm sorry 😭😭 just imagine there's multicultural foods alright??)

pandora made him try curry and rice once, he didn't like it but he ate all of it because she did

dinner is his least favourite, in his mind all the foods are too heavy

yknow when you feel like you don't want a meal, you just want a small, light snack??

he feels this constantly

but there is no snack foods at dinner time :(

so he'll maybe grab a yorkshire, but he doesn't dip it in gravy like evans does

he doesn't like gravy

he'll just eat it like a muffin

or he'll take a piece of ham

but cut it and throw the bigger part on one of his friend's plates

there was stir fry one night for a teachers birthday, the staff made it themselves

he hated it

in his mind, veggies should never be cooked

never

oki that's all i can think of

send me an ask if you want more, or maybe some for a different character!! <3

#regulus arcturus black #marauders #marauders era #atyd marauders #marauders textpost #the marauders #marauders map #harry potter marauders #regulus deserved better #sirius and regulus #james and regulus #james x regulus #james potter x regulus black #regulus #regulus black #regulus x james #pandora and regulus #regulus fluff #regulus imagine #rab #r.a.b

[tonguetiedraven]

Neat Notes and Messy Words

Fandom: Blue Exorcist/Ao No Exorcist

Pairing: Bon/Rin

Summary: Rin starts to find notes in his locker and assumes they're for his much more popular twin. (Hardly unreasonable since his feet are always covered in the notes falling out of Yukio's locker.)

Except they might not be for Yukio at all, which begs the question: who is leaving the notes?

Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

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

There was a moment of utter silence as Rin scrambled for some way to ask the question without sounding accusing, or putting himself on the line if Ryuuji hadn’t written any of them.

“Uh,” Ryuuji’s blush was adorable and distracting. Rin swallowed again, “have you ever written a note?”

Ryuuji’s eyes widened, and his slightly pink cheeks turned a much darker red. “No-no!” he spluttered in an extremely unbelievable way.  Ryuuji  was an awful liar. Had Rin actually seen him lie before? He couldn’t remember any lies, and if Ryuuji told them like that, then there was no way he wouldn’t notice it.

Rin shifted a little closer with an excited wiggle of his tail. Ryuuji’s eyes dropped down to where their hands were barely brushing against each other. Just their pinkies, and just the outer edge, but it was enough to send little sparks up Rin’s arm.

Kuro, the little traitor, whined as Rin shifted. He’d started leaning towards Ryuuji and didn’t even notice.

Ryuuji’s cheeks weren’t the only red ones now.

“Rin—err, Okumura, I—”

“You can call me Rin.” He felt breathless, and he couldn’t stop replaying the last week in his head, or all the little notes. Hope seemed like a bad idea, but he couldn’t help but hope for Ryuuji. Especially with the way Ryuuji sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes dropped to his lap. He bit his lip, and Rin wasn’t certain he’d take the offer.

“Rin,” Ryuuji’s eyes darted nervously between their hands and Rin’s eyes, “do you like the notes?”

“I love them,” he murmured, trying not to lean in towards Ryuuji, and mostly just succeeding in slowing down how quickly he was leaning towards Ryuuji. ‘Rin’ sounded a lot nicer than ‘Okumura’ when Ryuuji said it.

Kuro, apparently annoyed by the utter lack of attention, batted Ryuuji’s notebook out of his lap. It flew to the brick path with its pages spread open. A ripped page. A ripped page with little heart doodles.

Rin’s tail rose straight up in surprise as he covered his mouth. “Oh—”

Ryuuji shot off the fountain. “Shit! I—”

“It is you!” Rin sprang up and after Ryuuji before he could get more than a foot away. The hearts matched the partial one on his note, and if it was Ryuuji, that meant Ryuuji felt and thought all those things about him. Excitement had him reaching for Ryuuji’s hand and wrapping his own around it.

Ryuuji’s cheeks immediately went a dark and adorable pink. “You left me all those notes!” Rin continued, giddy with the  thought. How could this be real? How did Ryuuji think he had a nice laugh, or a nice smile? How did he make Ryuuji want to draw?

“I—” Ryuuji’s hand curled around his in a nervous sort of way. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to find out.”

Rin’s tail drooped. What? “Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t… I’m not… I didn’t wanna make things weird.” Ryuuji’s eyes flicked up to him before staring at their joined hands again. And wow, that was a thing. Rin was holding Ryuuji’s hand.

And Ryuuji was holding his hand. Holy shit.  

“You, uh,” Ryuuji continued, shy and adorable and practically begging Rin to kiss his pink cheeks, “didn’t really seem interested?”

Damn that stupid misunderstanding. Well, no time like the present to clear the air.

Rin’s tail wagged excitedly as he swayed closer to Ryuuji and his cute, blushing self. “I’m interested. I just didn’t understand. I meant what I said. I wanted to meet for real before I knew it was you—”

“That’s—”

Rin shook his head and plowed on before Ryuuji could interrupt him. “Now that it’s you, I want it even more! Valentine’s day is in two days? Wanna do something?”

Ryuuji’s eyes grew bigger, and his blush spread to his ears. He swallowed, and Rin couldn’t help but watch the way it made his throat bob.

“Like a date?” Rin nodded hard. Ryuuji’s lips quirked up in a shy smile that sent a flurry of feral chuchi swarming through Rin’s chest. “Then… Can we do tomorrow first? I can get a pass to the observatory? There won’t be as many couples tomorrow?”

Oh! “Yes!”

Ryuuji’s grin was so big, and his eyes so stunned, that Rin couldn’t stop his hips from swaying with how hard his tail was wagging. Ryuuji wanted to go out with him. Ryuuji had written all those notes to him.

He let go of Ryuuji’s hand to wrap him up in a hug instead. Ryuuji sucked in a startled breath, Rin leaned up, cupped his cheek, and pressed a kiss to his bright red, freckle covered cheek.

It was incredible to actually feel the air leave Ryuuji’s lungs in a surprised ‘oh’ and to feel Ryuuji’s hand spasm.

Ryuuji didn't move for a long moment as Rin dropped back on his heels and squeezed him in a hug.

Finally, “Time?” Ryuuji stuttered, grabbing his hand again.

Rin hid his own huge grin against Ryuuji’s shoulder. “After dinner? Seven? It’ll be dark by then, right?”

Ryuuji nodded. “Yeah,” he swallowed, still blushing and still smiling in a way that made Rin a little dizzy, “it’s a date.”

Rin tilted his head up and beamed.

And in that moment, he could see it. He could see the stars in Ryuuji’s eyes and imagine him doodling the little hearts. He could picture Ryuuji dropping the notes in his locker before trying to get away in case he was spotted. He could see Ryuuji trying to drop hints— Rin was gonna have to be direct with him — and he could see why there had been so much blushing.

He knew exactly what he was writing in that note now.

#bonrin #my fics #aoex #blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #rin okumura #only one more part! #i've enjoyed this fluffy little piece #ryuji suguro #ryuuji suguro #bon/rin #bon x rin #bon suguro #aoex fanfiction #bonfire #sugurin #my tumblr fics

[voiceless-terror]

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home. 

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case. 

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away. 

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy. 

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone. 

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance. 

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile. 

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

#tma #the magnus archives #tmagerryweek2021 #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jongerrymartin #my writing

[rosenallies]

Handwriting hcs for college bratpack?

No bc during my exam they gave me like a little white board as scratch paper and for a while I was actually just doodling queen’s names based on what I think their handwriting would look like <3 I love handwriting tbh 😭😭 it doesn’t get taught formally as much anymore bc everything’s on the computer but I will be damned if by the end of next school year my 2nd and 3rd graders have unreadable ass handwriting. Anywayyy <3

- Synthia’s handwriting is super girly and bubbly, it’s neat and she writes mostly in print, but will doodle her name in fancy cursive if she’s bored in class or something. She always dots her ‘i’s’ and “j’s” with little hearts or stars bc she’s that girl. She’s also totally the aesthetic note taker in class, everything is neat and precise and she uses a million colors on one page.

- Gia’s handwriting is atrocious. They write too fast and don’t pay attention, so it’s all over the page and only they can reallly read it. It’s so bad that they had to read the note wrote they in Synthia’s birthday card for her bc she had trouble reading it😭 they’re definitely a computer note taker in class because of it too.

-Kendall’s handwriting isn’t bad, it’s a bit messier than Synthia’s but not as bad as Gia’s. She writes mostly in cursive. She’s an iPad/Apple Pencil kind of girlie when it comes to taking notes but her handwriting is generally good and easy to read. She can write really pretty if she needs to tho.

#friends to lovers bratpack au #headcanons

[ashintheairlikesnow]

(@whimpers-and-whumpers) concept: Chris in college. He has to do a certain number of gen ed credits to get his degree. He ends up in a mythology class. Chris has a breakdown when the class discussion turns to Baldur, Norse god of light and purity.

CW: Referenced past pet whump, traumatic memories, vaaaaague suggestions about past noncon, past whump of a minor, brief internalized ableism, warning for past Oliver being a fucking creep

“Well, this one just has a stupid name,” Ben says, squinting at his mythology textbook, tapping at a page. 

“What, what is it?” Chris and Ben are ‘studying’ together, which today mostly means Ben is studying and Chris is thinking about Laken’s arms when they wear a tank top. 

Ben is on is stomach on his bed, book open in front of him, while Chris lays on his back on the surprisingly plush shaggy rug that Ben bought at Target three weeks ago. Chris could sleep on this thing if he wanted, it’s so comfortable. Not that Chris can’t sleep pretty much anywhere. 

Chris closes his eyes, thinking about Laken’s smile, with their slightly crooked incisor tooth on the one side, when Ben says, “Baldur.”

Chris’s eyes open back up.

Baldur, darlin’. His Sir is calling him, hand on his head, waking him from his doze hidden under his desk, curled into a ball in the safe, dark space. Baldur, wake up, sweetheart, were you dreaming again?

“Why would you name a god Bald-er? Like, celebrate not having hair, I guess. What a stupid name.”

Nicky’s voice, wrinkling his nose, saying I’m not going to call you that when he heard. 

“That’s not, um, not what it, it, it means,” Chris says. Ben doesn’t use the overhead light when Chris is in his room - it buzzes in a way that gets under Chris’s skin. Instead, he uses warm yellowy lamps, and opens the curtains over the window to let outside light in. 

“Oh, you know this?” Ben looks up, and Chris’s face is carefully schooled emptiness, as much as it can be. Ben doesn’t know what to look for, so he doesn’t see it, and that’s what matters.

“Yep,” Chris says, shifting uneasily. Laying on his back suddenly feels wrong and also entirely right, exactly how he’s meant to be. He catches himself and pushes up to seated, looking out Ben’s window, focusing on the blue sky, slivers of white clouds, the gentle rattle of wind against the window when it gusts.

He reminds himself that he can go out there whenever he wants.

“Well... tell me something about him that’s more interesting than this stupid paragraph.” Ben taps the page again.

Sir, can, can, can you-... can you, can-

Words, Baldur. Do you need to practice with the metronome again?

No! No... no thank you... Sir. I, I can... can you... tell me about... the mistletoe, again?

Much better. Of course I can, darlin’. Come kneel here next to me.

“Baldur is, um, is, is... Old Norse it means, um, ‘brave’.” Chris sighs, fiddling with the seam of his pants, shifting his hands up to rub at a rough spot on his knee, then up to the feather necklace he’s always wearing, rubbing at the textured, carved plastic carefully. “Or, you know, in, um, in... sometimes they, they think, it’s the same as, as... same root as Belobog-”

“The same what as what now?” 

“Um, Belobog is, um, is, is, is... is is is, is a, a day... a god of day. Slavic. Um. But, but so, so there’s this idea that maybe Baldur meant, um, Baltas, or, um, an older word like it, because Baldur was, was... beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Ben watches him with interest, but Chris doesn’t look at him. His Sir’s voice is in his ear, a hand tipping up his chin. Somewhere his Sir is... is still there, not in the big mansion with the hallway anymore, but... he’s somewhere. And Chris can feel him.

“Yeah,” Chris says, almost breathes. “Baldur was, was, was, was... was the most beautiful god.” He feels every line of his face, that his Sir once traced with his fingertips. He’s pretty. He knows he’s pretty. Too beautiful to be for anything else, sweetheart.

“Wow. So, what else do you know about him?”

It starts like this, darlin’. Baldur had a dream...

“Baldur... had a dream,” Chris says, and his voice shifts, slows down. He goes still where he sits on the rug, staring outside at the sky through Ben’s window. He sits perfectly still, breathing in a slow, even in-and-out, as if guided by the ticking of the metronome all over again. “He dreamed... about dying. And his mother did, too. His mother... dreamed his, his death. Just, just like he did.”

Ben’s face is serious and thoughtful, watching as Chris’s thumb stops rubbing at the feather necklace, and it drops back to thump against his chest.

“He was... sad, because the gods... the, the, the gods-... sorry, wrong, um, bad words, I just-... the gods...”

The gods dream in prophecy, Baldur, pretty thing. Never forget. Gods dream futures.

Yes, yes, yes, Sir.

And I dreamed your future, so what does that make me, sweetheart?

Did Sir ever dream this?

“The gods dream in prophecy,” Chris says, echoing his Sir’s voice in his head. “Frigg was, was, was scared.”

“Wait, that’s-” Ben turned pages in his notebook. “You mean Freya?”

“Frigga, Frija, Frigg,” Chris mumbles. The sky outside the window seems so far away, now.

“She, um, she went around and asked... asked, um, everything on Earth to, to... to promise they would never, never hurt Baldur. And... everything did, except... mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe? Like, the shit you kiss under at New Year’s?”

“Right. Everything but, but mistletoe.” He pulls his knees tight to his chest and sits like that, feeling Sir’s hand drift over the back of his neck, two fingers crook underneath soft leather of a collar Chris no longer wears. “It was... small, and a soft, soft thing, unimportant. When... when Loki-”

“Oh, I know who he is,” Ben says confidently, smiling now - but there’s a hint of something like worry in his eyes as he takes in Chris sitting perfectly still, like he’s carved from stone. 

“When, when Loki heard... he had a, a, a spear made of mistletoe. Loki didn’t, didn’t want to get in trouble for murder, so, um... so, so, so so so he gave the spear to, to, to Baldur’s brother, who was blind. Everyone threw things, at, at Baldur, and it bounced off, and Baldur’s smile was... was like the sun. Everyone loved him.”

Who could ever love you, pretty pet, but me?

“Baldur’s brother threw the, the spear. And killed him.”

Ben blinks, shifts forward. “He did? Holy shit.”

“Um, yes. Because, because the mistletoe-”

“Right. Because the mistletoe never promised not to hurt-... wow, that’s dark shit. Loki did that on purpose?”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s Loki. So. But, so, so, so... so this person, Baldur’s own family, um... killed him.”

“Yeah... shit. What happened after that?”

Chris rubs at the back of his neck, and feels the warmth of his Sir’s palm press over his hand, feels his mouth press a kiss to Chris’s coppery hair-

No, his hair is blue now. He did it himself. His hair is blue.

“Baldur,” He whispers, “went, went, went to, to, to... to... to hell-... I mean, um, to, to Hel, the goddess of the underworld. She, she, she saw his beauty and-... kept him. Be, beside her. And... and he couldn’t, couldn’t escape it, and come back, unless everything on earth cried for, for, for, for... for his loss. But one giant refused. So...” He trails off. “That’s, um, that’s... there’s more, but... yeah.”

“Wow.”

Chris swallows.

Well done, darlin’. You’ve never forgotten a single thing you learned for me...

“How do you know all this shit about fucking Norse gods, Chris?” Ben taps his pen on his paper, looking at his own sharp, angular handwriting, the notes he’s been taking all along. 

Unlike Chris’s notebooks, covered in loopy scrawling writing and with the margins full of doodles of shapes and little drawings of animals, Ben’s margins are as neat and empty as they can be. 

Chris usually feels like what his hand draws, a constant movement, a constant shift, filling his life in with his motion. Right now, though, he feels like Ben’s margins, empty open space. Paint over what was there before, and nothing’s left but the blank spots.

Chris shrugs. He pretends he doesn’t feel the soft weight of his Sir’s hand, resting just over the back of his neck, the brush of his lips over Chris’s earlobe, the whisper of his voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Beautiful boy. Would you like to hear about how Odin got his eight-legged horse today, darlin’?

Yes, yes... yes, Sir. Tell... tell me, tell, but can I... after can you tell me about, about Baldur again?

Silly boy. Of course I can. Lay down on your back for me. 

“I, I knew someone,” Chris says, his heart skipping a beat. He can almost feel himself leaning back into a phantom hand through his hair, ready to lay down on navy silk sheets, like none of the good things ever happened.

Like he’s still a beautiful boy, living in hell.

He breathes in, and then out. Tries to replace the feeling of Sir’s arms around him with the daydream he’s been having about Laken’s arms instead. 

“I knew someone who, um... who liked the, the stories about Baldur. A, a long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A, um... a kid.”

“Like, a brother? I thought you just had your adopted brothers.”

“Um, no, not, not, not... not my brother.” Chris grips onto his feather necklace, again. He can almost feel the warmth of Laken’s skin when they accidentally bump against him in line to get dinner at the dining hall. “Not my brother. Just... just, um, a kid... who was kind of like me.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary - @whimpers-and-whumpers

(Nicky - briefly referenced here - is @orchidscript’s OC Henry)

#whump #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery #chris the strawberry blond romantic #traumatic memories #oliver branch is gross #past noncon reference #past pet whump #trauma recovery whump #flashbacks tw #ptsd tw