#the kind of posts that actually blow up in here

[tmntxthings]

you said your requests are open in your navigation post and i'm absolutely obsessed with your writing !! could you possibly do something with yandere mikey ? whatever you want !! i'm just starving for mikey content and i love the way you characterise him <3

一∑4ÆM。・゜・🐢🧡

author’s notes: ahhhhh thank you my sweet anon for the kind words, i’m a simple person, you say yandere, and i start writing 😂

warnings: dark au, yandere tendencies, erratic behavior, delusion, threats, intimidation, choking, unedited, angsty

song: 4ÆM by Grimes

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It was late one night. Mikey rarely stayed up past 2 am but here he was, humming to himself as he made the two of you grilled cheeses. It wasn’t 2 but 4 in the morning. Everyone else was in their own respective rooms. You had doubts that Leo and Donnie were asleep. But you could hear Raph’s snores all the way in the kitchen. And Splinter wasn’t exactly a peaceful sleeper either.

“Should I heat up some soup to dip it in?” You offered going to where they kept the cans of microwaveable soup. “Ah sure!” Mikey agreed. As it so happened, the microwave was right above the stove where Mikey was working his magic.

But years of being in each other’s space had you easily crossing the boundary of personal space to get on your tippy toes to press the button that opened up the microwave and placed the bowl of soup inside. You set it for three minutes, clicked start, and then backed away.

The smell of burnt bread filtered through your nose and you looked over to Mikey to see that he was just staring straight ahead. Spatula in hand ready for flipping the cheese sandwiches but not doing anything at all. “…Mike? It’s burnin’” you said plainly.

He blinked, looked down and his blank expression morphed into one of horror. “Oh no no no!” In dismay he flipped to see the charred toast. His teeth clacked as he scooped it once more and went for the trash can.

“Wait wait I’ll eat it! Don’t waste it Angelo!!” You said hurriedly but he just looked at you with a bewildered expression before chunking it. “We’ve got more cheese and bread, I’m not feeding you burnt grilled cheese.” You crossed your arms. “All it needed was a good scraping on the burnt side and it would’ve been fine!”

He shook his head. “Trash!” He said with finality. He got to work whipping up two more. You let it go. And the two of you situated yourself at the kitchen table, soup in between you both as you had your own respective sandwiches. You were starved so you chowed down right away. Blowing out hot air as you burned your tongue in the process.

Mikey had pulled up a YouTube video for the two of you to watch in the meantime. Glancing over at your antics and shaking his head once more but with a smile this time. “Wha?” You said with food still in your mouth. His beak scrunched. And you gave him a wicked grin before opening your mouth fully to show him the mushy half eaten food inside.

“Gross! Why?!” He whined, tearing his eyes away to watch the video he had up. You didn’t have a response for that. Spontaneity you guessed. You hadn’t finished your meal yet but you pushed out of your seat. “Where ya going?” He chirped not looking away from the screen. “Drink!” You stated, bending down as you looked in the fridge to view the options.

“Want something?” You asked. “Nah… actually a Dr. Pepper.” You grabbed one and headed back. Cracking it open you took a sip before sliding it his way. He took a sip without looking away from the screen. You tilted over to see what it was about, some grocery store hijinks. Lame! You got back to the meal. Opening up your own phone to check the messages you had missed.

You hadn’t been on your phone all day! Spending most of it with Mikey doing mundane stuff. Video gaming or watching movies. You smiled down at a specific message.

Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had his eyes on you ever since you had opened up your phone. A blank expression taking over his face once more. “Who’s that.” He said, not a question. But you hardly noticed, your attention enraptured from the slew of messages you were receiving now. Then you halted and your eyes shot up at Mikey, one of his brow bones lifted in question at the shocked look you gave him.

“I never told you!” You said with surprise and turned fully to him. Mikey felt his muscles tighten. Something you hadn’t told him? What could it be? His thoughts spiraled to worse case scenarios. “I met this person… and it was like insta-crush! They’ve just got this way about them. Okay wait wait lemme start from the beginning—“

The muscle by his jaw ticked. A crush. An insta-crush. You were crushing on someone? It was as if by thinking of the worst thing possible it then came true. While you went on distracted by your disgusting puppy love, Mikey sat there not really listening. He watched as you were pulled away from the conversation multiple times by your phone lighting up. And his pupils started to shake.

After the fourth time of you getting all distracted and giggly Mikey rammed his fist down into the table. Smashing bits of it to splinters. “What the hell Mikey?!” You were out of your chair and raising your hands up in what was a mix of emotions. “Heh! Sorryyyyy,” those dead eyes of his crinkled into crescents as he smiled then he shook his fist as if it had hurt.

“Sorry?! What was that?? You smashed the table into dust!” Your eyes were bugging out at the show of strength. “There was a bug!” Mikey lied. You gave him a once over. Then you took a step back. Ah he was such a terrible liar.

“Maybe I should go? It’s getting late. You’re probably tired!” It’s like you were trying to give him an excuse. “But I thought we were having a sleepover?” Mikey whined. Getting up from his chair slowly. You were pedaling backwards. “We can reschedule Angie! Really!” Your voice was half placating, and half fearful.

“Okay okay, you got me!” Mikey held up his hands in a show of surrender and in your confusion you hesitated to escape further. “Huh?” You questioned. “I may have gotten a teensy bit jealous! I had no idea you were crushing on someone!” Mikey explained. Then went further.

“I actually thought.. with how much you’ve been over.. and how well we get along.. I just thought maybe words weren’t needed to describe what we were!”

You blinked slowly. “We’re friends Mikey.” You said plainly. His hands went down, while his head tilted to the side. “Really? Do friends stay up this late together?” You were instantly defensive. “Yes! Donnie, me, and Leo stay up this late all the time!” So Mikey went further.

“Do they share food or the same soda? Do they cross boundaries? Do they text 24/7? Do they say I love you? Do they cuddle? Do they share a bed?” The more he listed the more his face lost control. His eyes widening in a manic sort of way as his hands started to flail about. You flushed at the last bit. “I was perfectly fine on the couch! It was you who had insisted—“

“We. Are. Dating!” He yelled out. His plastron heaving as he struggled to breathe properly. “You like me! And I like you. We aren’t friends. We’ve been dating forever. You don’t have a crush on anyone but me!” He swallowed as his eyes brightened completely into what you could only describe as his ninja stare. You trembled in place as his hands rose from his sides, his ninpo flaring to life as that fiery orange chain snaked into view threatening to shoot towards your form if you dared to bolt.

“Say it.” You couldn’t. It was a lie. It was a delusion. Something Mikey had made up all on his own, something you had no part in. You shook your head. He huffed. “Fine.” The last thing you remember seeing was that chain faster than lightning wrapping around your body, it squeezed you, holding on to every part available. Choking you. And Mikey walking over without a care in the world as your vision swam and turned black.

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#mikey x you #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt x reader #michelangelo x you #tmnt michelangelo x reader #michelangelo x reader #mikey x y/n #mikey x reader #tmnt fandom #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #mikey #michelangelo #michelangelo hamato #yandere mikey #yandere!mikey #dark au #teenage mutant ninja turtles michelangelo #rise michelangelo #tmnt michelangelo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt #rottmnt oneshot #yandere au

[thebigoblin]

as the sun rises

i've been working on this on & off for a couple weeks, and it's now complete! posting this here first, and will post it on ao3 this week!

He's just about to kiss Derek when he's pulled out of his sleep, his traitorous phone vibrating on his nightstand with a text message.

Who could be texting him? It's too early for socializing, and his brain is tired! But since he's not just a college student but also a human who runs with a wolf pack and is liable to delay rescue missions if he's not on his feet all the time — he's literally one-half of a two people operation in this pack who hold strategic braincells — he groans and opens his eyes.

His room is dark, but the curtains are blowing against a soft breeze, and slants of sunlight fall into place across his room. It's morning, then. Too early to really call it morning, but morning nonetheless.

Who would even text him right now? His pack cannot get in trouble this early in the day, can they?

Actually, they can, and they have in the past — he grabs his phone and opens it up to the text messages.

It's a message from Derek.

That says just one thing: Morning.

Stiles blinks at it. Tries to figure out if it is a secret code message or something. Scrolls back up further in their text thread, realizes Derek had an early night yesterday so of course he'd be awake early today, at 6 in the morning, and like all the mornings this past week he's sent Stiles a message.

Morning.

Normally, he does it at reasonable hours, like 8. Which is Derek's usual wake-up time, given his usually scheduled afternoon shifts at the BHPD. Like it's the very first thing he does, eyes still blurry from sleep.

It's a sweet, delusional thought borne of Stiles' own desperate greed for Derek's attention, and it chokes him as much as it pleases him.

And there goes his sleep, running away like a headless chicken, at his predicament of being in love with someone he can not have.

Derek Hale is a legend from the myths, a werewolf amongst humans; he's honor and pride intertwined with a gut of trust he's sharpened over the years, the mistakes of his youth lending him a jaded perspective on his once easily-given faith. He is a man turned ashen with tragedy, turned once again into technicolor as years have climbed up.

Stiles was there, at the intolerable stage of it. When Derek was barely a man, a kid alone in the world, hurting and grieving, persistently angry, and with no vision. And he's been there since, once a spectator turned into pages in Derek's book. He's seen him become the man he is now, their relationship blooming under the throes of violence, of almost-dead-but-not-yet celebrations, of the pack letting Derek down and Derek learning to be better for it, instead of sulking and lashing out.

He has watched Derek become who he is now, and he has fallen in love with a man who is one of the strongest people he knows, and it's devastating because why would someone like that love Stiles? There's so much that Derek deserves, so much of which Stiles can not give. He deserves all the good things, and Stiles isn't something like that, is he?

The morning goes on like this: him in the bed, under the covers, the wind blowing inside his room a gentle contrast to his harsh thoughts. He is a year into college now, he's dated a few guys and girls, felt attraction but no connection to them before he realized what's wrong with him — he couldn't connect with anyone because he's already given his heart away, and he knows this is it for him. He's gone and done for, the kind of once-in-a-lifetime love they try to sell in movies and shows and books his claim now, except for the part where he gets the guy and the life of his dreams.

Maybe, just maybe, in a couple of years, he would have moved on. But today, all he can hear in his room is the sound of his heart breaking, his breath hitching, all because of a simple text and his sadist brain.

He hurts in a way he never has. He knows grief — he's lost his mom and that hurt, too, and still does. There's a piece missing in him, a part of him forever buried with his mom, and he's learned to live without it. And this hurts too, the clarity of never having Derek, in a way that is different but somehow similar. He's grieving for something he never had, a future he dreams of but knows can never be his reality.

He allows himself to fall apart today.

*

It's the Christmas break, the weather outside slowly getting more chilly than it was when he woke up. He burrows under the covers, the wind pecking his skin, his limbs too heavy from exhaustion of having cried his hours away to get up and close the window.

He should have closed the window, really.

He's fully under the covers, tear-streaks dried on his cheeks, sticky and a tangible reminder of his woes. Still, he hears it when there's a sudden thump, of a familiar pair of boots landing on his floorboards, and a decisive click of his window being shut close.

"You'll catch a cold."

Of course he's here. Stiles doesn't want him here, not right now, not when —

"Stiles... are you okay? The room smells like you just cried."

If it was any other day, any other reason, he would have appreciated it. They have a no-bullshit relationship. It's honest and grueling, but ultimately, it works for them. Stiles knows Derek trusts him, and that is more than he ever expected to receive from him, of all people.

But he has Derek's trust, and he knows he can not have more. So, he can not lose this, too.

"G'way," he mumbles, "Please."

Time stretches, his request hanging in the air. Then, the bed near his legs dips down, Derek's warm hand finding Stiles' hand, the one outside the covers, and holding it gently. Derek's fingers wrap around his wrist, and the chill melts away.

"I was worried about you," Derek confesses, voice soft. "It's nearly nine, and you hadn't texted me back, and now you're like this. What's wrong?"

Not even a year ago, Derek would have left long as soon as something like this happened, too raw for conversations like this, too naive to navigate a healthy dialogue between friends.

That's what they are, right?

Stiles pulls his covers down until his face is visible to Derek, something which prompts Derek's hand to move to his face, give a soft caress. He truly is worried, eyebrows furrowed and everything.

"Just a bad morning, I guess," he says, and it's almost the truth.

Except. Except, Derek knows Stiles' truth and lies, and not just by his heartbeat.

"If I can help, whatever it is, I will. Just tell me." He's so earnest too, for fuck's sake.

He's a great friend, truly.

Stiles smiles, small and ironic. "You can, and you can't." Derek gives him a confused look. Stiles shrugs, the best he can while lying down on the bed. "Trust me."

"I do, Stiles. Don't you?"

Stiles is angry now. It comes as a surprise to him — a hot, white flash of anger, zipping through him like lightning.

He sits up on the bed so abruptly everything falls — the covers, his phone, him. Derek stops him from falling on his ass, though, arms around his waist.

Even before he's in no danger of hurting himself he's saying heatedly, "Don't fucking pull that card on me. You know I trust you, so much it's impossible to put into words. If you asked me to drive a dagger in my heart I would, I would trust you to keep me safe. So don't even, Derek Hale!"

"I'd rather take the dagger in my heart, Stiles." Derek's eyes are hard, alpha red creeping into them. "Tell me what's wrong." His jaw works, as if he's finding the right words, and Stiles' anger goes away as fast as it came — he slumps in Derek's arm, his weight on the man beside him. Finally, Derek says, "Is this... If Andrew did something, I'll slash his tires."

He isn't expecting this. The hell?

Andrew was the last person he went on a date with, almost two months ago. It didn't work out between them, it never does between Stiles and people, and this was more of the same. But the thing is, he didn't tell Derek about Andrew. It was their first and last date, and the only one he had told about it was...

Lydia.

Derek continues, oblivious to Stiles' confusion. "Ever since you came back to town you've been distant, and if it's because of something your boyfriend did —"

"Woah, what the fuck?" Stiles' voice rises, this time the heat replaced with a level of perplexed he hasn't felt since ages. "He's not my boyfriend, he's not my anything. We went on one date, like weeks ago. What's Lydia been telling you?"

A warmth blooms inside his chest at Derek being so protective of and vindictive for him, but he forces himself to not be affected by it right now. He can loathe Derek's instincts as an alpha when he's alone again.

Derek, for his part, parts his mouth in surpise. "Have I been stupid this entire time?" he says, more to himself than Stiles. "Then what's wrong with you?"

And now they're back at the problem asking for the problem.

Stiles sighs. "Listen. I'm happy you're such a good friend, but some things just aren't meant to be shared, okay?"

"You tell me everything." Stiles scoffs. "Stiles."

They both look out the window, where birds are flying, free from the complex human emotions. The sun is high in the sky, real morning now beginning.

"Why do you keep texting me anyways?"

Derek's eyebrows are raised when Stiles turns to look at him. They're seated with barely an inch between their bodies, and the turn of his neck has them almost sharing the same breath.

Stiles licks his lips, and he must imagine Derek's eyes tracking the movement.

"I can't ask you what's bothering you, and now I can't text you either?"

"Not what I— the morning texts, I meant. Of course you can text me, but the morning texts are new and I'm just... asking. And why can't you text me good morning? Why is it just a morning?"

Derek stares at him. Stiles knows he's thinking something, debating whether to share whatever is going through his head, or not.

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "No, Derek. I do not."

Derek takes a deep breath, as if he's bracing himself for something huge, something he has high hopes for, something he can not bear to lose but he has no idea if he gets to keep it.

Stiles suddenly has a feeling, and if that is true, he's going to murder himself just to relive the pain one last time, because if what he's thinking is true, then he's stupid as fuck and he deserves it.

"I text you morning and not a good morning because the mornings aren't good."

"Okay... why aren't they? Good, I mean."

Derek is looking into his eyes, a vulnerability in them that Stiles has seen before, but still it feels like he's seeing it for the first time. Like this is a part of Derek he hasn't seen previously, a part that has been kept hidden purposefully finally brought to light.

Derek moves, and the miniscule distance between them is gone, eaten up by the anticipation building in the room.

Derek's hands come up to caress Stiles' face, thumb rubbing circles at the dried tear-tracks, the motion comforting. He says, "Every morning, I wake up in my bed, alone, and it's such a shitty way to start my day. Every morning is just another day, and all I can think is, the mornings would be good, really good, if you were in my bed with me, too."

Stiles swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat. "You're joking."

"Never, not with us. Not about this."

Stiles' breath hitches. Derek comes closer, rests their forehead together. Stiles closes his eyes against the closeness, the dread that this is a dream.

"You're too important to me for me to make a joke out of this, Stiles."

He's crying again. "But I don't deserve you."

Suddenly, the warmth of Derek is gone.

When Stiles opens his eyes, Derek is pacing, a glower on his face.

"Isaac can't be right, can he?" Stiles makes a confused noise. Derek rounds on him, then decides sitting down on his knees is a better option. Stiles' morning is so confusing, he starts counting Derek's fingers as well as his own when Derek holds both his hands, rests their limbs on Stiles' thighs.

There's twenty fingers. Ten his, ten of Derek's.

"Stiles. Why don't you deserve me?"

He does his best to not cry. "You're... amazing, Derek. I. I'm just me, you know?"

It seems silly to say it. It's one thing to believe it, another to put it into words.

Derek squeezss his hands. "I've loved you for a long time, longer than I have realized it."

"What?"

"And I felt the same. You're you, and I'm just me. You deserve better."

"You are the best thing that can happen to anyone!"

Derek chuckles at Stiles' vehemence, squeezes his hands once again. "Pot's calling the kettle black. I felt the same, you know," he repeats. "That you deserve better. So I never told you. And you started dating others. But then..."

"Isaac. What has he told you?" He doesn't know what he could have told Derek. It's not like Stiles and Isaac are close, but there are things their pack does, like meddle in each other's affairs, that has him realizing how troublesome their pack is.

It's not like Stiles has even a single subtle bone in his body.

Derek smiles. "He told me that he's got a bet going for us to get together before the New Year." Stiles isn't surprised, not really. He smiles back. "Yeah, the pups have a bet going, and Lydia and Isaac seem to be on the same page."

"Jesus. Her too? What did you say?"

"The whole pack is in on it. I was surprised they would do such a thing. They can't force two people together when one of them isn't into the other one." He moves forward, until their foreheads are touching once again, and this time, Stiles takes one of his hands and presses it to Derek's head, cards his fingers through the soft hair.

"Then what happened?" He prompts.

"Isaac laughed in my face when I told him I was disappointed because I didn't think he and others would stoop so low. And then he told me I might be an alpha but that I'm stupid if I haven't been able to figure out that you like me back."

Stiles laughs, rather nervously. "I always worried you'd figure it out and we'd not be close anymore."

"I did figure it out, actually."

"WHAT?" He shouts it in Derek's ear, who winces and pulls back. "Sorry, but why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

Derek stays on his knees, but he inches a bit backwards, creating a safe distance between Stiles' mouth and his ears. "I didn't want to lose you."

"How could you lose me when you liked me and realized that I liked you back? That doesn't even make sense." Derek gives him a look. Stiles rolls his eyes. "See, I didn't say anything because I've always believed you deserve nice things, and I've mutually never believed I'm a nice thing. But if you told me you liked me... I would have been selfish."

Derek's expression turns soft. "You're the best thing to happen to me, even as just friends." Stiles' cheeks heat at the proclamation, and he ducks his head. When he looks back up, Derek is smiling back at him. "I've wanted you to be mine for a long time. And when I say mine, I mean it. For life. Building a future together and all the good and bad that follows. But all I could figure out... at least what I thought I figured out... was that you liked me casually."

Stiles gets up from the end of the bed and pulls Derek up by offering him a hand, which he takes with a full-tilt smile, bunny teeth and all. "No part of me is casual for you. I never believed I could feel like this, but if anything, everything I feel for you is cosmic."

Derek's smile grows until it's a full-on grin, and Stiles feels the width of it, the rush of Derek's blood, the pure joy of their stupidity taking second place to communication in the kiss Derek pulls him into — Derek's arms wrap around his waist, his own around Derek's shoulders, sliding up and down, on his stubble, his cheeks, his hair. The kiss itself is sweet and hot, their mutual joy imprinting itself in the endless journey of time with their noises of appreciation.

They kiss and kiss, tongues touching and lips bitten raw, until the necessity of oxygen forces them apart. As soon as they break apart Derek moves on to his neck, the press of his lips electric, and Stiles is the happiest man on Earth.

Well. Except for Derek, of course.

"Good morning, Derek."

Derek growls and bites down, intent on marking. "The best morning," he agrees, and Stiles can only moan, feel the pain of being claimed, and revel in the moment.

He still has thoughts of being unworthy in the back of his mind, but what he told Derek was true: if Derek wants him, he'll be his. He'll be selfish.

He'll love Derek Hale as long as he breathes.

Once the hickey is painted on Stiles' neck, Derek tips his jaw, their eyes locking onto each other. He says, "I love you so fucking much, baby."

Stiles smiles. Derek seems to be on the same page as him, and it's starting to feel like Stiles will be a part of Derek's book for a long, long time.

Maybe, just maybe, till even the last page of the book.

It truly is a good morning.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fics #sh.writesonmain #inspired by a post i saw on insta

[notachair]

Since atla is again having an extra surge of popularity, I'm shooting my shot:

[ID: (Rest of image description in alt). At the bottom of the image sits the text: "Zuko: Okay. Well, I can't remember how it starts, but the punchline is "leaf me alone, I'm bushed."" ID end].

Did we ever find out what the setup for this joke was? I feel kinda haunted by it. If not- anyone wanna make their best or worst guesses?

edit: I now know what "I'm bushed" mean, but go ahead anyway 👍

haunted thoughts in tags ↓

#atla #the way I was early out for this next surge in popularity 🤗 I was in a different phase by 2020 #it's not like it haunts me day and night but it does bother me thinking back on it. please tell me I'm not the only one 🧍‍♂️ #I'll have to reblog the 'closure is a myth' post jk #what kind... of joke is it? leaf pun on leave i get. I'm bushed however I dont get. it implies the punchline sayer is a bush at least I #think. but what prompts the 'i am bushed' I dont get. is it not contextual? is it a phrase ive not connected like 'leaf me alone'? #is there anotger layer between leaf and bush? again what kind of joke (social:joke purpose. what is funny? only pun?) + (in-joke set up)? #is it about the kind of bush it is? is it between two plants? the plant & someone picking on the plant like a teamaker collecting? #is it about a plant that has grown into bush and thus (somethingsomething)?? is it not a plant at all? other elements? iroh *what*. #if the creators actually had a setup in mind- I fear it will be lame. but yet I am haunted #it must have cracked someone up for him to try relay it. (set in term of endearment here) 🧍‍♂️👈 *poking him* #either way. me 🤝 zuko @ being bad at remembering & relaying jokes 😁👍 #at least in that instance anyway #I mainly stick to irony & sarcasm. running along with an mistaken assumption or replying w something silly & blowing it out of proportions. #puns if I'm lucky. ect. fun when I can reference it later tho I try not to overdo it. not like I'll likely remember it for too long anyway #now to lay in wajt see if anything happens.... #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla zuko #a:tla #my rambles #its lie and not lay is it not.....

[moongothic]

Crocoman has been on my mind lately and I had a realisation (what I have to admit is that my memory is shit, so the whole conundrum might be pointless, but) wet + Croco = bad times for our Sandman. So... If he slices up a man and in turn gets splashed by blood, does he just... nullifies his own power? You can smush or suffocate with sand, but Crocodile makes stabby weaponry from it too, stabby weaponry that I am reasonably sure is attached to his arm at times. Does he developed a combo of sucking the moisture off his victim right before it soaks him and makes him a sad soggy man?

He loves living right on the edge. Desk right in front of a huge glass window that is the only thing separating him from tons of water rushing in and ending his career? check (additional flex is that it'd take as little as one very motivated bonk from his bananawani to said window for that end to come). Close ranged, bloody fights that pose the very reasonable danger of getting soaked by blood? check. Our man fears nothing.

I mean from what we've seen, usually Crocodile uses his stabby-slicy attacks from a distance, while in close range it's usually either Sables to blast people off or Barján to dehydrate people, as seen here

Like Barján doesn't cut people, surely Crocodile could've used it to cut people instead if he wanted to, but no, it mummified the guards instead

So considdering our beloved Crocodile is a smart little boy, this all could be intentional, because yeah, if he did get splooshed with blood he would lose his Logia Invunerability at least until the blood would dry, and that would just be inconvenient

And that would make for a good combat tactic in general- mummify those in range, if you can't mummify them then nuke them with Sables, and if Sables only blasts them out of your range, well now you can use Desert Spada to slice 'em without getting moisturized. Like if this was a video game that'd make for a good gameplay loop

Also while it's only stated in canon he can absorb moisture with his hand, I wouldn't be surprised if Crocodile could also passively absorb moisture from his whole body (if just less efficiently). Like during Round 2 with Luffy he did get completely soaked but was able to turn back to sand soon again, so unless the Alabastan Heat was on Croc's side, surely he couldn't have dried that fast. Same for when he was covered partially in his own blood in Marineford, surely when Doflamingo decapitated him he would've actually died if his face was still wet with blood (though Oda forgot to draw the blood on that page so take that with a grain of salt lmao)

Really the only thing that doesn't seem to quite fit into his combat loop nicely is the Big Ol' Stabby Hook as you mentioned, because if anything's gonna make people bleed all over him, it's that, that's the thing (though he could just use the actual base of the hook to pummel people with and the hook is there because. It's a prosthetic.) (You know I did always wonder why Croc wanted to use the hook instead of the hidden blade because surely the blade would be more convenient for inflicting pain but, actually, yeah, the hook makes sense)

This all said, while it would be inconvenient for him I would like to see Crocodile get covered in blood more often, it looks good on him ❤️

#Asks #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Did I kind of misread the original ask because I'm eepy #Yes #Can I be bothered to rewrite my response to be an actual response instead of an analysis of Croc's fighting style #No #I wrote all this shit I can not be bothered to redo it man #I even went and got that screencap for it #Also it's funny that you mention Crocodile not fearing anything because I was lowkey thinking about writing A Thing About That #IDK if I have enough Thoughts for a whole post though but the point was that #Like people do go off often about how Croc is willing to fight anyone and anything at the drop of a hat without giving a fuck #But we literally do see him get dunked on by Jozu just once and he immidiately gives up on fighting the guy #Like he tanks one (1) attack from the guy in Marineford and he takes it with relative grace #But he really does go ''awe hell naw I ain't dealing with that'' after getting attacked by Jozu and backs out #(Or would've if Doflamingo didn't wanna chat) #And we don't really even see him FIGHT anyone properly in Marineford #Like he exchanges a few blows here and there but there's no big fight with anyone in particular or anything #Even with Akainu he mostly just distracts the guy long enough for Luffy and Jinbei to escape #And we know he's smart. He doesn't rush into danger like a dumbass (see: Luffy) and always has like Things Planned Out #So really. Does he actually like to live as dangerously as people tend to assume. 'Cause I'm kind of starting to doubt it? #God I just wanna see him fight a bastard or two is that too much for me to ask

[spider-man-2o99]

Just wanted to say that I have been thinking of you and pre-emptively empathizing with the nonsense you are no doubt being flooded with and the psychic damage it must be causing. Keep stanning the king ignore the weirdos <3

thankg u.,, i feel like ive been trapped in a fuckign . Torture Labyrinth these past coupl days . but. wwe will. We Will Yet Persist onwards w/ our hand on the left wall till we;re either out or at the center i swear 2 fucking GOD,

#talking tag #asks #th pain is forever the Horrors r unending the lack of media comprehension on all sides is Disappointin But Also My Goddamn Life I Guess lol #though i will say ppl in my inbox have actually been.. surprisingly polite overall? if not outright rather kind as a whole. um. post-atsv. #but. god. i have not Talked About so much of that movie because i kind of just. #..ok actually i realize this is gonna sound rude as hell lmao. but. hhaha i Kinda Just. was fool enough to Assume that everbody would yknow #like. Comprehend The Film yk yk yk. since it is a well-written movie that doesnt try to Hide any of what it;s abt? yk? #i come On Here onto tumblr dot bumblr and i make my stupid esoteric gddamn complaints abt 2099 Themes for Me Only so my head doesnt blow up #n silly ol me i really do like earnestly honestly in my Heart think. like. we all saw the same movie. right? mayb thingsll calm down. #but oh oh oh oh oh no no no No No. they do Not calm down they get So Much Worse. #and now hypothetical Internet Strangers might be Passing Judgement bcuz we look like an Apologist 4 assuming Everyone Knew Media Literacy #CHRIST. do people think i think mig was. like. In The Right. in atsv. no ive known he would be Wrong for years dudes. #why do yall think i was so low-key Disappointed he was placed in a role that couldve better suited. like. Superior Spider-Man. #public image. DING-DONGs. man he is Never Going To Be In Movies Again After This Hes An AU SPIDER-MAN FROM THE 90S. LORD! #i had SO MUCH FUN watching atsv!!!!!!!!!!!!! #i dont like the choices it made to put miguel in the situation that it did. Bizarre Thematic Changes to 2099 that Only I Care Abt. but like #that is SUCH a fuckin SMALL and insanely autistic nitpick like i earnestly loved the hell out of the film and its mig is-- #--Earnestly One Of His Better/Best Adaptations despite bein within the limited confines of th plot nd setting he is In & w/o his inner mono #..i just. Hate So Much That This Movies Version Of Miguel Will Be The Only One That Anybody Knows For The Next Seven Years At Least. yknow. #i lov watching that fuckers trainwreck of a slowmotion mental breakdown for two hours but the movie gave practically Zero Context 2 newbies #BTSV please save me BTSV please save me BTSV PLEASE save me PLEASE please please please PLEASE BTSV youre my last hope.... #(arthur clenching his fist meme) ppl r Already so shitty 2 ppl w/ Messy Symtptoms i could Handle losing MK but SM2099 means too much 2 me..

[swiftfootedachilles]

what do i have to do to get people to read my stuff actually like im not about to get in everyones faces begging for attention but i dont understand how im expected to make FREE fandom content without much feedback on my work

#ignore my ranting but im actually so fucked disillusioned #like why are there so many people who scream about supporting each other and lifting up small creators #and they never do it themselves unless its their friend #sorry i dont sit at the popular table but i never expected that it would impact my reach this much #my newest fic has more hits but less kudos and less comments than my first #it's so obvious people only interacted on my first fic *because* it was my first fic #and thank you so fucking much to the people who have given me kind words #and literally religiously rbing my stuff because you think im worth listening to #this isn't about me crying because im not popular #people with bigger followings are naturally going to get more attention #but the only reason ive started posting my fics is because all these POPULAR BLOGS were like 'we support each other here!!!' #'were a big family were not a big fandom so any time someone posts it brings a smile to our faces!' blah blah blah #like youre out here lying for clout you literally only leave feed or kudos if its your fucking friend 😭 not even if its good #i guess id rather have less people interacting if it means the feedback i get is genuine and not just blowing smoke up my ass #but it still hurts to write a fic that flops and then write another fic thats over 3x longer than my first fic #WITH A PREMISE THAT POPULAR WRITERS HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT BEFORE AND BLEW UP FOR IT AND PEOPLE IDOLIZE THEIR WRITING #so im expecting to get more feedback and constructive criticism because it's a concept that a lot of people seem to love #only to get EVEN LESS FEEDBACK THAN ON MY FIRST FIC #like sorry to everyone who genuinely likes my writing i actually love you so much #but im very rejection sensitive and don't plan on continuing this. it seriously hurts me. it triggers my abandonment and selfhatred shit ba #like im sick to my stomach that another thing im passionate about is sucking the life out of me & i cant even get my foot in the door #donut rebagel this thanks and goodbye

[capaldiera]

i will be writing fic telepathically today so if you think about missy hacking twelve's dick so it cant get hard and then bullying him about it which on face value seems like humiliation kink but really it's your friend being a fucking pest/being a fucking pest to your friend kink. that was me

#the doctor is like if this is what she's doing instead of blowing up planets these days i can live with it #'if letting her mess with my scifi packer is the price of people's safety i'll pay it. i just hope we don't kill each other over it' #<- says guy who is unfortunately super into it #me.txt #if i actually was a writer i reckon like 90% of my fics would be comedic pwp #comedic bc tbh the concept of hacking someones fucking dick to be annoying is the centrepiece of this story #of course there's a lot more that can be done with the hacking concept but thats not the point here #kind of a stupid post. posting it now okay?

[danothan]

lord give me the strength to deal with the defeatist comments on my helpful and unquestionably optimistic post.

#danbles #i even had someone go off on an entire rant abt how it was actually detrimental to artists to be spreading this kind of lazy propaganda #but it was immediately countered by a funny reply so i had a laugh abt it #on the plus side some rbs are just ppl recognizing their mutual or even themselves from the post and it’s very cute lol #very frustrating having to scroll past the spam just to see my mutuals in the notes tho #ive missed so many mentions and prev tags bc of it 😞 #such is the life of having one random post blow the fuck up #i understand those posts that say no one wants to be recognized on tumblr. #absolutely bold and unimaginable to me that ppl blaze their posts here

[rowannkhanna]

nahhh im so tired of ppl

#tells myself everyone is so lovable and i will be niceys and kind to everyone 😍 no one can do any wrong #and then i actually meet people and im like god never again #or maybe i just keep attracting bad ppl idk #disclaimer i still love ppl i have faith on humanity and all that we can do this o9 but also some of u are unbearable abt things #another disclaimer this is abt no one here. to the ppl this post is for and will never read it i blow u up in my mind ok ? #not a vent post i mean not rly im just UGHH im sooo tired. im eepy im miserable

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

#like everyone else those new pics of joe keery left me kind of #feral. horny. slutty. #so i channeled my feeling a bit #i miiiight do more of this but no promises #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rockstar eddie munson #actor steve harrington #joey writes #ficlet #fun fact: eddie's tweet was my actual real life message to my friends about those pics

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #cod x reader #cod fic #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw x reader #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw 2

[colleendoran]

How Do I Do Stuff

The question was phrased a little strangely, and I don't want to embarrass the person by posting exactly what was said, but I'll answer it and hope this clears everything up.

I do almost all of my drawing by hand. No, I don't trace in Photoshop. Not a judgment on those who do, but I come from a generation of artists who did not use Poser programs or other digital tools. We learned to draw using a technique called the Sight Size method. I know a lot of people assume everyone - including the old masters - traced everything using optical tools, but while it is true some people did, it is just as true that most didn't, and you can draw with great accuracy if you learned how to draw the old fashioned way.

Sight Size breaks everything down into its barest components of geometric shapes and you build from there. Once you learn it, you never forget, and it applies to everything you will ever draw.

I learned it using a set of Famous Artist Course books my mom had since she was a kid, and they are still the gold standard. They're often on ebay. If I were you, I'd buy them.

I actually find using figure reference really annoying because I like exaggerations and modifications from reality in my final work.

This page from Neil Gaiman's Chivalry was drawn and painted without figure reference of any kind.

I don't know why people assume I trace all the time. If you were to try to use photographs to replicate these figures, you would find they are slightly off. There is no tracing here.

This is not to say I never use reference. This page, for example, was referenced from a photo of my mother. Isn't she pretty.

But this page of Sir Galaad was drawn and painted without reference.

He's pretty, too.

If he were real, I'm sure a lot of people would be very happy about it. But he's not. And had I reference, the art would have gone a lot faster. I had a time trying to nail this face that is very alive in my head but doesn't really exist.

Back in the ancient days, all cartoonists had to learn to draw and paint extemporaneously because reference was limited and digital tools didn't exist. While some high end artists had photography studios and professional models with costume and sets on hand, small fry like me were limited to what was in the house or available at my small local library, which was no bigger than a few rooms of my current house.

Artists kept extensive "morgue files" or "swipe files" which were collected from magazine clippings and photographs so we would have as much of what we might need on hand for quick reference. These ephemera collections could get unwieldy. I have thousands of photographs I've simply never sorted. I finally dumped most of my files this past year.

Have I ever traced anything? Of course, especially if I have to re-use a shot or setting over and over. Making extra work for myself is just silly. It's my job to make pictures, not to perform magical feats, like copying one shot after another over and over without making a mistake.

However, for almost 15 years of my career, I refused to copy or trace anything, and did not even own a lightbox. On the one hand, that forced me to learn to carefully examine what I saw. On the other hand, it was a stupid hill on which many deadlines died.

Only after I realized many professional artists had lightboxes and overhead projectors did I finally break down and get one.

The one thing I use my lightbox for more than anything is for tracing my thumbnail sketches to the final drawing paper. Instead of trying to capture the liveliness of the original sketch by copying what I see - only bigger - I blow the thumbnail up to the size I want the final art to be, then I trace over the thumbnail using a lightbox onto the final drawing paper.

Here's a look at thumbnails from the graphic novel Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples.

I enlarged these on my computer to fit onto 11"x14" paper, and traced the thumbs before finishing the art which was drawn in pen and ink and colored in Photoshop.

While I obviously made some changes, the essence of the thumbs is there in the final work. Tracing my thumbs retains some of the looseness of the original sketches, which is often lost otherwise.

So, there is a valid purpose to tracing at times, though in my opinion, too much tracing can weaken drawing ability, substitute for developing skills, and make the work kind of stiff.

If you want to, I'm not your judge. But it's weird to me that people think I must be faking my skills in some way.

Ironically, the word cartoon comes from the Italian word cartone, which is a large heavy sheet of paper - also, the origin of the word carton.

Preparatory sketches were made on this paper which was then transferred to the final work surface via either tracing or by stamping little holes in the paper through which dust was sprinkled, recreating the contours of the drawing for the artist to follow.

So the origin of the word cartoon comes from a process often used...for tracing.

#snow glass apples #chivalry #neil gaiman #drawing

[randomshyperson]

I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03

Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.

Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics,  brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough,  implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k

A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.

Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.

But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.

The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on. 

And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.

But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.

Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.

"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym. 

The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.

"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed. 

Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."

You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.

"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."

She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.

"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."

Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.

" Won't you take your shoes off?"

She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.

"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.

"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.

After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."

"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward. 

Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease. 

It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.

She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.

"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.

"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.

"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"

But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.

The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully. 

"Something wrong, darling?"

You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."

But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.

She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.

It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.

She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff." 

A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.

"You're not so cocky when you're scared."

In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.

With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"

"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.

"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold. 

But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"

Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."

She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.

"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.

It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.

Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."

She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.

"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."

To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.

"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties. 

It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.

"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."

"Wanda..."

"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.

With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.

You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.

"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core. 

Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?

"W-wanda-"

The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.

"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."

Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.

Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.

And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.

"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.

Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.

"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.

You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"

You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."

Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."

She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."

"Th-"

The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head. 

"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."

The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound. 

The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck. 

"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."

She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.

You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.

"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"

You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"

Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.

Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams. 

But reality is superior to any of those.

You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.

The door is magically closed behind the two of you.

You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.

Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.

Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.

"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"

"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.

She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.

"Tell me what you want." 

You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."

Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"

"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.

"Language." She warns, and you sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.

"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation. 

It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.

"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.

With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."

"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.

Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.

You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.

"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.

You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"

She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."

Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.

"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.

"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."

She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either. 

"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out. 

"Oh, darling, we have barely started."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff oneshots

[weebsinstash]

I know the show isn't out yet but Stayed Gone is stuck in my head and I'm chugging my yandere Vox juice so hard right now. I think he has the capacity to be absolutely insufferable

---for starters THE SPYING POTENTIAL WITH THIS MAN. You're telling me he can directly plug himself in to the city power grid and see through all televisions, potentially even phones and computers too? Could he put himself on your phone and start going through your texts? Could he even just put himself on your phone real quick while you're sleeping to check in on you? You couldn't even have privacy in your own home because of whatever screens are around he could potentially shoot himself to or watch you through. Imagine just being in your apartment completely alone and he's suddenly on your tv. Like what if you had just been sitting there topless or with your dick out or something or 👀 I mean. He could see so much, really...

---God honestly like. You know I keep mentioning the Instagram without ever attaching pics or anything because I'm on mobile and I'd have to use the hazbin Instagram archive blogs here on tumblr to go find them back like, you know Val would openly post the meanest shit, would literally post Vox's face being busted up because he woke Val up from a nap or i think it was he literally just brought him the wrong soda (which to be fair was taken from Velvet and was half empty), and then you go over to Vox's account and his pic was taping his pieces back on while being really frustrated and kinda lowkey looking like he would cry

Like Val's out here "women are stupid also men are stupid too" and talking about how he adopted a dog and killed it within like 48 hours and here's Vox celebrating his pet's birthday with cake and a party like. Why are these men together. Why. Why. Don't get me wrong I love to be the involuntary third in a toxic codependency but--

look all I'm saying is... do any of you get really really upset when you see someone being mistreated, especially more so a friend of yours?

READER JUST LOSING THEIR SHIT GETTING FERAL ANGRY SHOUTING AND SCREAMING AT VAL BECAUSE HE PULLS SOME SHIT and like that's IT for you because 1. Valentino might like actually backhand you one as well, do you think he wears rings so it hurts, 2. Vox sees you defending him and like, it's based on your own preferences really but if he wasn't already gaga this CEMENTS it and 3. especially if he watches you have to take a blow for trying to stick up for him. Like what if you cry. I have a low pain threshold, I'd be sniveling and crying at the least. Valentino storms off and Vox is helping peel you off the floor cause you curled up into a ball or some shit and he's sitting there thinking "wow they suck at this but they still did it for me 🥺"

---during his song with Alastor, it's a little confusing because they show an actual camera crew when he's turning the TVs on, but i think it's pretty clear that he can control whatever the screens show visually, thus his little zany sketches and being able to talk to himself and at one point, showed the visual of himself blocking the radio Alastor was projecting on right next door. I can just see him using this to kind of.... fuck with you, really! Or do whatever he wants? He's trying to suck up to you and he's surrounded by roses, or you're his co-host/guest host and he thinks your joke was funny and gives a little audience laughter as a treat

Or you know... you're running from him down the street, passing all these different screens and displays as they power on and show things like, him "jumping in front of you" while demanding you stop or, trying to show some kind of blackmail publicly, or just, begging you to just ACCEPT HIM and showing you all the fun things he could do with you, "cmon, I said I was sorry, stop freaking the fuck out! We can- we can do that thing you've always wanted to do, what about that?!" as he tries to project you two doing something fun, but most importantly, doing it TOGETHER. You're running from him terrified and he's showing you images of like you two smiling and happy or, it becomes scarier as he's more desperate

"Don't-don't make me do something fucked up!! I'm serious, STOP RUNNING" and he's like freaking out, showing shit of trying to hold you down, tying you up, and/or shoving you into a locked room

Sudden thoughts of "what if the more emotional and unstable he becomes, the less he can control his intrusive thoughts and shows his more impulsive darker desires". He's tweeking and the screen glitches and you briefly think you see yourself completely restrained, blindfolded, gagged--

---he's just like OBVIOUSLY so prideful but also immature and whiny ("who gives a shit about alastor?" Well you, mr hes just quietly minding his own business and I'LL start beef because i feel threatened and STILL LOSE, like awww my poor little pogchamp got publicly humiliated in an argument HE started out of nowhere, he's my little sad wet baby lmaoooo) and we already know his relationship with Val can become physically abusive, so, you pair him staying in that kind of relationship, being codependent, with this personality of his, and I can just see.... ACTUALLY FUCKING TRIGGERED LIKE LITERALLY CRYING UPSET VOX BECAUSE YOU REJECTED HIM like he's pissed he's hurt he's lonely he's heartbroken and HELL NO IS HE GONNA ACCEPT THIS

Vox would be over here proudly claiming on his TV show that NO HE REJECTED Y O U, not the other way around! He's not upset! He's totally fine! Meanwhile everyone watching can tell this man is manic and visibly hotboxing copium, "I didn't even really like you anyways!!.... no, I mean, shit, fuck, COMMERCIAL BREAK--" *cut to technical difficulties screen because the man is CRYINGGG*

-- Valentino and Reader bonding over teasing Vox and making him flustered and of course, obviously, the inverse. I still kinda like the idea of "they both think you're cute but like nothing exciting until one night they bump into you unplanned and you're all dressed up". Like Val is from the 70s or 80s so they go to a roller rink disco whatever kinda place because I'm sure the coke game there is INSANE and you're just like, swaying your hips spinning around to Let It Whip or September or something dressed in some shorts that make your ass look just right 🤌

You're sneaking back into the studio after a night out and they're both lounging somewhere and Val's like "uhhhh who is THIS coming in without saying hi to Daddy?" and you pull your sunglasses down like "SIR??? 😳" And now HE'S flustered because he didn't know that was you and Vox is feeling some new kinda way because he's used to seeing you in like, your work uniform or casual wear

Val who then makes your work uniform really slutty and you have to serve him and Vox wearing it 😩❤️

---I have this thought of like lmao imagine walking down the sidewalk with Angel and seeing Vox on TV and Angel is like "ya know he can see everything outta dese things when he's plugged in" and you're like "bullshit, he couldn't possibly process that many screens at once, it'd overload his brain, he wouldnt be able to concentrate" and you're like "here I'll prove it, hey Vox, check it out you fucking dweeb" and flash him your bare titties or you MOON HIM

scenario A would be that he INSTANTLY barks out laughing, "hey Val, that dumb slut who brings you drinks just flashed me!" And he just totally shows it on the air, maybe partially censored, maybe not at all, your phone is ringing IMMEDIATELY, of COURSE it's Val, and Vox is broadcasting your mortified embarrassed expression, "our big story tonight: drunk bimbo fucks around and finds out! More updates after this word from our sponsor!" and the man will noooootttttttt stop bullying the fuck out of you afterwards, because he's got a crush on you and you're like someone weaker than him his insecure ass can punch down on

Scenario B is that he instantly turns pink and about 5 seconds later he blue screens and the entire city experiences a blackout and when he comes back on the air he's like stammering and, glancing at, it FEELS like he keeps glancing at you, but, is he really?

------

I dunno... like I'm sure Valentino is gonna wind up being unstable in his own way but I guess there's a certain, ALLURE to Vox being a little bratty and whiny while also having these very VERY handy, actually quite scary abilities and resources 👀 like boy show me what that screen do 😫💦

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #vox x reader #yandere vox x reader #sinprompts #yandere stuff

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hii congrats on 5k!! i love your writing ! if you’re still celebrating could i request a carmy blurb where maybe you’re syd’s besite and carmy has this biggggest crush on you (im talking this mf is Yearning) and she gets on him sooo hard about it like teasing him and reader and him end up together ? TIA <3

Not So Secret.

carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - cursing.

written for my 5k celebration- post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“You’re gonna stare a hole through her fuckin’ head.”

“Shut up.”

Richie laughs, following Carmens eyeline to where it’s fixed on you.

You’re stood in the restaurant with Sydney, both of you giggling at something she’s showing you on her phone. When you look up, you smile at Carmy, all soft and sweet and like butter wouldn’t melt. He almost melts, a puddle of yearning on the kitchen floor.

Sugar appears next to the two of you, holding out a piece of paper.

“This is a really rough draft of what we kind of want them to look like. Obviously you have full control, but this is kind of the vibe?”

When Carmen mentioned wanting a more personal touch on the menus, Sydney quickly offered your services. You’re the most artistic person she knows, gifted with naturally gorgeous handwriting that almost looks like calligraphy. Plus, she knows how much everyone at The Bear likes you, having been a part of their transformation. It’s a win - win.

“Yeah, I get you. So you want the title words like Dessert in more of a cursive, and then the actual dishes and descriptions in a typeface?”

“Yes! Do your thing. We trust you.”

She gives you a side hug, careful not to hit you with her bump.

“I’m gonna need some nice paper, and probably a new calligraphy pen so I can start from scratch. I’m gonna head to the craft store, and I’ll be back.”

“Carmy will go with you!”

Richie shouts it from the doorway, where he’s been not so subtly watching the conversation. Carmy blushes, clearly caught off guard.

“He needs to go to the craft store too, right Cousin? Good. Go. Bye!”

Carmy’s practically being pushed out the door, uncomfortable and flustered. You smile reassuringly, grabbing your bag and walking over to your car.

“You’re okay with me driving?”

“Course. Shouldn’t I be?”

You laugh, and he can’t help but grin, the sound settling nicely into his ribcage to warm him up.

“I’m a good driver, I promise. Despite what Sydney might say.”

He looks worried but gets in anyway, ever trusting you and anything you do.

He can’t help but sneak glances at you as you drive. You’re completely focused on the road in front, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Carmy feels heat bloom across his chest at the action, wishing he could reach out and release it for you before you draw blood.

A text chimes through the air, startling you both. You press the button on your steering wheel so your car can read the message out loud.

From Sydney: Carmy. Tell her immediately or I’ll lock you in the walk in freezer. Sick of you acting like a lovesick puppy. This is your chance. Don’t blow it, asshole. We’re all tired.

Both of you freeze, your hands tightening on the wheel. Carmy wants to throw himself out of the moving car, but decides against it at the last minute.

You pull the car into the craft store parking lot, choosing a space and yanking the handbrake on. You turn to him, looking at him for the first time since the bombshell.

He’s blushed all over, chest heaving and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You almost want to reach out and release it for him, before he draws blood.

“Carmy.”

“I think, uh, yeah, I just - that was clearly sent to the wrong person. Not meant for you.”

You laugh, suddenly, and it spooks Carmy so much that he jumps out of his skin.

“Yeah, Carm. That I figured.”

He laughs with you then, unsure and nervous. You reach out and place a hand on his knee, trying to calm him down. It just makes his heart lurch.

“What’s Syd talking about? Tell me what?”

He looks down at his lap, hands knotted together.

“I think you know.”

“Wanna hear you say it,” you whisper.

He finds the courage to meet your gaze, taking a deep breath.

“I like you. So much. I can’t stop talking about you to anyone and everyone that’ll listen - to the point that everyone at The Bear gives me so much shit for it. Sydney won’t get off my back, either. She says I’m ‘yearning’.”

You chuckle, rubbing patterns into the material of his jeans with your thumb.

“They’ve all made bets,” he continues, “about if I’ll ever tell you or not.”

“Who bet on you? And who against?”

“Syd and Richie against me. Marcus too. Tina and Sugar are on my side. Not sure why.”

“Wanna make Tina and Sugar some money?”

He quirks a brow questioningly, eyes going wide when you lean over the centre console and plant your hands on either side of his face. You’re so close to him that your breaths tangle together, one set of lungs working overtime.

“Kiss me, Carm.”

He doesn’t think twice, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. His hands find your back, tugging you into him as much as the limited space allows.

You whine when he bites at your lip gently, and he has to pull away to take a steadying breath before he passes out.

“You should get your eyes checked.”

He tries to process for a moment.

“Huh?”

“You must be blind if you can’t see how much I like you, Carm. How much I’ve always liked you.”

He grins at you, bright and white, and you shake your head before leaning in to kiss him again.

When you don’t make it back into the restaurant that day, everyone has never been happier to not see the both you.

#murphy’s 5k celebration #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader fluff #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader fluff #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fluff #the bear smut #the bear x y/n #the bear x reader #the bear x you

[lovingmattysposts]

Do you think he knows?

summary: you just became popular on YouTube and you just moved to LA and you were invited on one of your favorite podcasts, The Zach Sang Show. Everything was great until he brought up a little crush of yours that you gushed about that the beginning of your career, which caused you to light up in embarrassment hoping to god he never saw anything you’ve said about him.

warnings: Just fluff, mentions of drinking/ being sober

"Next topic" Zach said through the microphone. I just smiled and looked over to him as he looked down at the sheet in front of him.

My friend, Sarah and I had been growing rapidly on youtube and our podcast that we had. We made vlogs and just filmed some funny moment that happened throughout our lives, and people actually tuned in and listened. Which shocked me. 20K viewers turned in 100K viewers and we were now sitting at almost a million subscribers on youtube and an average of 800K-1M views per video.

We had just offically moved to LA a month ago and were still settling into everything. It was all very exciting and this was the first time were appearing on someone else's podcast and I was nervous to say the least. When we were first invited on the podcast, The Zach Sang Show, of all places, I debated on going or not, but ultimately we decided it would be best to further our career. So here we were, sitting here doing someone else's podcast.

The first few questions were easy. Just basically talking about the come up of our career, how we got here, how we met, etc. I felt better having Sarah here by my side, I didn't know what I would do if all of the attention on me. I was just happy not too many personal questions were asked so far.

"Chris Sturniolo" Zach said directing his attention to me. I took in a breath, attempting not to show on my face the embarrassment that began to arise.

I was so excited when we first started blowing up. I never really thought we would go anywhere, just making silly little videos to look back on, so that persuaded me to say whatever came to mind. Including my huge crush on Christopher Sturniolo. In our earlier videos, I would go on and on about how attractive I thought he was. How funny I thought he was. How I would marry that man in a heartbeat.

This caused many of the Sturniolo triplet fans to be directed towards our videos. Clips of me gushing over new instagram posts of him, going viral on TikTok. The comments being filled with their fan base saying things like, "She gets it" or "Me too girl".

Once we started to blow up even more I started to calm down my obsessive tendencies. I knew that since our faces were starting to pop up around more and more, I would die of embarrassment if Chris came across any of those clips. I wasn't stalker-obsessed. I'd seen a few of their videos, seen a few clips on TikTok, which like many other girls across the globe made me start taking an interest in Chris.

I didn't know everything that's ever happened in his life or anything. I just saw his face, seen him say some funny shit, and was like "Yep love of my life" and that was it. Kind of like people's crushes on Liam Hemsworth and Jacob Elordi. It didn't go far past seeing funny or attractive clips of them.

To this day, I still didn't know if Chris had seen anything i've said about him and honestly I really didn't want to know.

Sarah looked over at me, raising her eyebrow a smile on her face. I shook my head and looked down, feeling my face start to burn up.

"You've been pretty open with your past relationship history in your videos, which is why many of your fans love you guys. For your open and honest thoughts" He said looking down at the sheet in front of him.

"y/n, you've never actually been in a relationship before?" He asked looking at me. I sighed and nodded. "I've been in positions of potential relationships before, but they all treated me like shit. So i've just kinda voided the whole thing off. I don't think it's ever gonna happen for me. I've definitely been hurt enough in the past to where I'm not even looking to be in one" I said honestly nodded. Zach nodded smiling.

"You know we just had Chris on the show" he said. I sighed looking down smiling and shaking my head. "He had an answer very similar to yours" he stated. I looked over at Sarah who was smiling and biting the straw on her drink.

"Look" I breathed into the mic. "Chris is a very attrative young male, but I don't know anything about him really. He could be in a relationship for all I know. I'm not into stepping on anybody's toes" I laughed awkardly looking at him. He nodded looking down.

"You've mentioned in some of your past videos that you thought he was the most attractive man to walk the planet" Zach said making Sarah bust out laughing and push the mirophone out of the way. I hit her in the shoulder and shook my head.

Zach raised his eyebrows and looked at me. I avoided his eye contact attempting to wipe the smile across my face. "Do you still think that?" Zach asked looking at me. I pursed my lips. I took a deep breath as I leaned into the mic.

"Okay, I know I was a little obessive there for a minute, but I swear it wasn't in a creepy way. I just saw a cute guy popping up on my feed and was like "oh heyy"" I laughed into the mic.

"I don't even really know the guy that well" I shook my head. Zach smiled raising his eyebrows. "Are you sure? You’re blushing a little bit over there" He laughed. I shook my head smiling.

"Hello? Have you seen the guy? I still stand behind everything I've said. I just don't want to get attack by the fan base, I'm honestly scared of them. I really haven't seen that many of their videos" I said shaking my head.

"She plays their videos to fall asleep at night" Sarah said leaning into the mic. I glared over at her smiling. "She's lying!" I said shaking my head. "I'm kidding" Sarah laughed shaking her head. I was now blood red.

"Have you met him yet in person? I know you guys work with the same merch company" Zach stated. I smiled and nodded. "Wow you really did your research" I laughed. "That's my job" he said smiling. I shook my head.

"No, I haven't met him in person and If i'm being completely honest I think I'd run and hide. My 17 year old self had no filter" I laughed shaking my head.

"So what makes you feel an attraction to Chris rather than Matt per say?” Zach smiled and leaned back in his chair. I sighed. "I feel like from what I've seen Matt and I are very similar in the fact with dealing with mental health shit and kind of letting everyone else talk and being shy" I said looking at him.

"So I feel like Chris is like a breath of fresh air of not seeing myself in him. I wouldn't really want to be with someone exactly like me" I stated.

"Not that I think Matt isn't attractive or a great person, oh god i'm so scared of their fanbase" I shook my head quickly. Zach laughed. "In full honesty Nick is my favorite" I laughed. "But I don't know, In a weird way I feel like them being sober and me being sober and everything, It would just be nice to have someone like that especially in the LA scene where I feel like everyone is the same" I sighed. He nodded.

"So this is y/n’s offical application to be Chris Sturniolo's girlfriend" Sarah said into the mic. My eyes went wide and I pushed her. "It is not!" My face went red. Zach laughed.

"But yeah they are all attrative, clearly" I said holding out my hands and looking around. "But I think they are like genuine people, which is hard to find" I sighed. They nodded. "I agree" Sarah said into the mic, I nodding looking over at her and smiling.

"If you could go back and delete some of those clips of what you said about him, would you?" He asked looking at me. I took a deep breath before leaning into the mic.

"No, I wouldn't. As fucking insane as I sounded--" I laughed. "That's one of the main things that made us blow up, being relatable and such. Plus it made alot of his fan base find us, and I wouldn't give that up just to save myself future embarrassment. I also meant everything I said, I was young growing up--but it didn't mean I didn't feel the things I was saying. I think it's kind of sweet looking back and seeing those clips and seeing the emotions of it all. It reminds me of when I would obessive over bands and stuff when I was a kid" I smiled nodding.

Zach nodded smiling. "That's a sweet way of looking at it" he smiled. I shook my head laughing.

"Okay, now bring out Chris Sturniolo!" He yelled holding out his arm towards the door. My eyes went wide and I screamed covering my face with my hands, making Sarah and Zach laugh.

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding" He said into the mic. I looked up feeling my face heat up. "Zach, we're not friends anymore" I bit back a smile shaking my head, making him laugh.

"Next topic, please" I said shaking the smile off my face.

-

"How do I look?" Sarah asked running her fingers through her hair. I smiled at her. "Good, really good" I said looking her. She smiled letting out a breath. She looked over at me looking her up and down.

The Zach Sang episode went out last week, and low and behold the clip of me talking about Chris went viral. Out of everything I talked about, that's the one topic that gets millions of views. It helped out our fan base quite a lot actually, we gained almost 100K after that video posted, so I couldn't be that mad. I just could never look Chris Sturniolo in the eye and I was okay with that.

"You're not nervous at all?" She asked looking at me. I shrugged and then shook my head. "They are just people Sarah, just like us" I laughed as she nodded and took a deep breath.

It was our first ever influencer party ever. Familiar faces i've seen online crowded the room. It was weird seeing people I used to fan girl over in the same room as me, even speaking to me. It was something I never even imagined myself doing. But here we were.

I wasn't nervous it was weird. Maybe it was because we had just as many followers as some of the people around us.

"Did you see Vinnie Hacker was over there?" She gushed before closing her eyes and covering her mouth in excitement. I shook my head looking at her. "Calm down, this isn't a meet and greet. We're here to make connects so calm down" I said through gritted teeth. She took in a deep breath before nodding and smiling.

"Okay, Okay I'm calm" She nodded looking at me. I raised my eyebrows. "I am--I am look" She said pinching her fingers and taking in a slow breath and letting it out. I smiled and shook her as she attempted to mediatate in front of me.

She opened her eyes before they trailed behind me and she froze. I just looked at her. "What?" I asked. She stood frozen, staring behind me. "Did you see lil huddy or something?" I chuckled, but she didn't smile. "Sarah what?" I asked again looking at her. She glanced down at me, dropping her arms.

"The triplets are here" She said quietly. I felt all the blood leave my face. "What?" I asked quickly looking at her. She glanced behind me before quickly looking down at her feet. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" she said quickly placing her hands against her face. My heart started to beat out of my chest.

"Sarah what?" I whispered quickly. "We made eye contact, they are walking over here" She said looking up at me. My mouth dropped at I stared at her in disbelief. "What? No--Are-Are you sure--" I whispered looking at her. She lifted her head, before a smile came her face.

"Shut up, shut up" She whispered quickly under her breath as she raised her eyebrows, her attention turning to the people walking up to us. I stared at her, my eyes wide and anxiety filling my whole body.

"Hey"

I heard a male's voice say. I reluctantly looked up to see Nick staring down at her. I smiled up at him, slightly star struck from standing this close to him. I glanced over and saw Matt standing next to him and Chris standing next to Matt, all looking at me.

This was my worst nightmare.

"Y/n and Sarah right?" Nick smiling pointing between us. I took in a breath looking over at Sarah with wide eyes, she wore the same expression. Unfortunately. I wanted to say.

"Yeah" I nodded smiling. "I'm Nick" He said holding out his hand for me to shake. I looked down at his hand. Maybe he's being humble. I obviously knew who they were. I took his hand anyway shaking it, before he extended his hand to Sarah, who shook it smiling.

"This is Matt and Chris, my brothers" He said motioning to them. I looked over at Matt who smiled nodding at me, and then to Chris who smiled slightly. I swallowed looking down at my feet. Oh my god.

"We love your videos" Nick said making me snap my head up. I looked at him furrowing my eyebrows. He just looked at me. "Like--" I said looking over at Sarah who was just looking at me.

"Like our videos?" I asked motioning between me and Sarah. Nick laughed. "Yeah, we watch you guys like every week" He breathed. I just stared at him, my mouth slightly parted trying to figure out is he was serious or not.

"Like actually?" Sarah asked looking over at Nick. "You guys are funny as fuck" Matt said chuckling. "We live for the shit talking saturdays podcast" Matt said looking over at me. I smiled closing my eyes.

"You guys--" I said looking between them, trying so hard to not keep eye contact with Chris. "Are the funniest people i think i've ever seen" I chuckled looking at them. They all smiled.

"Thank you we appreciate that" Nick said looking up at me. I glanced over at Chris, who has yet to say a word, to see him just looking at me. I glanced away from him quickly looking back at Nick.

"I know that we have a lot of them same fan base--" Nick said looking between us. "Would you guys maybe want to colab sometime?" He asked raising his eyebrows looking at us. I looked over at Sarah who looked at me, attempting to send me messages through her eyes, before shrugging. I looked back at them.

"It doesn't have to be for a whole pod episode, I know you guys just did that--" Matt started to say, making me close my eyes and scrunch my nose. Fuck. I took a breath, reopening my eyes. It's fine. It's fine. You're fine.

"It could just be like a regular video, I know our fans would love to see it" Matt explained looking between us. I took in a breath and looked over at Sarah, who shrugged and nodded. I looked back at them, my cheeks slightly red.

"Yeah, we'd love that" I nodded. Nick smiled at me. "Great, can I get one of your numbers?" He asked looking between us. I nodded before pulling out my phone and handing it to Nick. Nick looked down at the phone, making silence come between the rest of us.

I just looked down at my feet.

"I like your shoes"

When I heard his voice my eyes shot up. Chris was looking at me. I looked down at my shoes and then back at him. "Mine?" I asked. He chuckled and nodded. My face lit up in what felt like flames.

"Oh! Thanks. I actuatly just got these--They were like super expensive for like no reason, they are just like tan shoes like why are they so fucking---" I stopped myself biting my lip. Fuck, I'm word vomiting. I paused looking at him and he was staring back at me waiting for me to finish.

"Expensive" I breathed looking at him. He smiled and nodded. "They're sick" He said glancing back down at my shoes. I smiled and looked away from him, just in time for Nick to hand me back my phone.

"Just text me whenever you're free" He smiled before walking past us, watching Matt and Chris following along after him. I let out a breath.

I looked over at Sarah.

"He definitely saw it" I groaned closing my eyes. Sarah looked over at me. "He definitely saw it" She nodded looking over at me. I looked over at her. "How embarrassing was I?" I sighed rubbing my hands over my hands. Sarah shook her head looking at me.

"No, no you weren't I promise" She said looking down at me. I cringed looking up at her. "Maybe a little red--" She squinted. I sighed and looked down. "But definitely not embarrassing" She said putting her hand on my shoulder.

I looked over to see the triplets moved across the room, just in time to see Chris look back at me. I turned away and grabbed Sarah's arm. "That's enough embarrassment for one night" I mumbled as I dragged her away.

-

"I'm gonna go talk to Vinnie" Sarah smiled up at me. I rolled my eyes. "Sarah, you've had too many drinks. You're gonna embarrass yourself" I chuckled pushing her drink down. She rolled her eyes.

"Liquid confidence" She cheered before moving past me. "Sarah" I said looking at her as she smiled and winked at me and made her way across the room. I sighed once she finally made her way over to him and he looked down at her.

Sometimes I wondered how it was so easy for her. To just go up and talk to guys. Sure I was confident online with my podcast and everything, but when it came to real life situations--I wasn't the one talking first or being the loudest one in the group.

This resulted in Sarah having multiple flings with people, pulling guys wherever she went and me being the girl who just creppily talks about a triplet and runs away from him. God.

"Hey"

I glanced away from the interaction from Vinnie and Sarah and looked up to see the same blue eyes I was just thinking about staring down at me. I turned slightly to see if anyone else was around me that he could possibly be talking to, but when I saw no one I turned back to look at him. He smiled and shook his head at me.

"Hi" I breathed looking at him. Chris. glanced down at my cup. "What you sippin on?" He asked. I looked down at the cup in my hand and then back up to him. "Oh! It's like this herbal-tea thing. It's suppose to help calm you down, but not in like a drug related way---Like in a herbal tea way--" I chuckled slightly.

"But it's really not that good, if i'm being honest i'm having to choke it down, because it is not working--" I said shaking my head looking back up at him, a smile just on his face.

"Not! That i'm super nervous or anything, I just--It's my first influencer party and I don't really know anyone except for Sarah--Who is--" I said looking over and seeing her lips attached to Vinnie's. I scrunched my nose and looked back at Chris who was also taking in the sight himself.

"Sucking on Vinnie Hacker's face currently" I chuckled slightly looking back at him. He chuckled and nodded. "But don't mind her, she's not normally like this. She's just drunk and nervous which is why she's making out with a famous twitch streamer" I shook my head. He just nodded smiling at me.

"Not--that i'm judging her for drinking or anything. That's totally okay with me--It's just not for me, you get what i'm saying? Sometime I like being the DD, but only if it means no one is puking in my car. But she never usually gets to that point, I also love how she doesn't judge me for not drinking even though we're in LA, because sometimes peer pressure is just like---" I said looking around and then meeting his eyes again, pausing as he looked down at me. I sighed closing my eyes.

"I'm....talking a a lot aren't I?" I asked opening my eyes looking at him. How could I possibly have gone on a tangent this long from the simple question: What are you drinking? God If I could crawl into a hole right now, I would.

He chuckled and shook his head. "No you're fine" He smiled looking down at me. I took a breath and looked down, feeling my face betray me and light up. "I'm sober too, I think it's cool that you're sober" He said pointing at my drink.

"Think i'd rather be drinking alcohol than whatever herbal ass this is" I joked looking down at my drink, my hand slightly shaking. He laughed. He laughed, making me look up at him and take a real breath. He shrugged.

"Yeah maybe sounds really gross" He breathed looking down at me. I took a breath as we stared at each other. Not believing that we were genuinely speaking right now.

"I saw that you said you were working on a jewelry brand" He stated looking down at me. "That's really fucking cool" He smiled looking at me. I smiled and nodded.

"I'm really excited about it. T-shirt and sweatshirts are whatever, but like making a genuine brand that people who aren't a fan of my content can wear is really cool" I said looking at him. He nodded.

"Yeah I think it's pretty cool that you can decifer yourself and what you want to do, from Sarah's. I feel like I kind of a hard time doing things without my brothers" He stated looking down at me, like I was a normal person and we were having a normal converstaion.

"Yeah well, I feel like before all this social media stuff, Sarah was kind of the one who made all the plans, was always invited somewhere, always had more friends. Mainly because she was more outgoing than me--" I said glancing over at her, still kissing Vinnie. I looked up at Chris who was watching them.

"Clearly" I chuckled and he chuckled and nodded. "And also with the fact that she drank and I didn't" I sighed. "I guess they just felt awkward inviting me to places where there would be drinks, like I was allergic to it or something" I said shaking my head. He nodded, like he was understanding what I was saying.

"I would never say this to her, but taking the step to doing something by myself that I feel people would love is like the biggest deal to me ever. Especially since I feel like when people look at the two of us, they usually like her more" I sighed. Chris nodded and his eyes didn't leave mine as I spoke, like he was really listening.

"Which I guess it's not her fault, but it's how I feel" I shrugged. He let out a breath and glanced over at Sarah who had finally come up for air. "Sarah's cool" He stated. I looked up at him nodding. He glanced back down at me.

"But she's not as funny as you" He whispered slightly leaning down, making me start to shake slightly. I chuckled and shook my head. He leaned up and smiled down at me. We just looked down at me for a second.

"Sorry I'm not really good at this" I said looking at him, he furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" He asked crossing his hands over his chest. I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him.

"I don't know this?" I asked shaking my head. He smiled and licked his lips. "What flirting with me?" He asked looking down at me, making my eyes go wide. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. I scoffed, feeling my face go red.

"I am not flirting with you" I said attempting to bite back my smile as he looked at me. He shrugged and looked down at me. I sighed looking down and swallowing my pride.

"You've seen the clips haven't you?" I asked scrunching my face and looking up at him. He smiled and shrugged. "Maybe a few" He laughed lightly. I swallowed shaking my head, suddenly regretting everything i've ever said. I groaned placing my hands over my face.

"Oh god" I said looking up at him. He shook his head. "No, don't be embarrassed. I think it's flattering" He chuckled. I shook my head. "No Chris, it is embarrassing" I laughed off the awkwardness of this conversation.

"I think it's cute you think my eyes are bluer than the ocean" He chuckled. I shook my head holding up my hands. "Stop stop" My face just got redder by the second. He laughed and stepped towards me grabbing my hand that was in the air. I looked down at our hands and saw him looking down at me.

"Maybe you weren't flirting with me, but maybe I wanted to flirt with you" He stated running his thumb over my hand and then letting it fall. I glanced up and blinked at him, as he looked down at me. Was I dreaming? Was this real life? I didn't believe the words falling out of his mouth.

"What?" I whispered. He took in a breath sighing and looking to the side. "My brothers would never shut up about the things you've said about me, reminding me almost everyday--" He started looking back down at me. I didn't speak I just looked at him.

"and maybe I mentioned that I thought you were cute" He smiled down at me. My mouth parted. Dreaming, definitely dreaming. "And ever since I said that, they haven't shut up about getting us to meet each other--Since they love your videos so much" He said quietly looking down at me.

"They love?" I asked smiling up at him. He sighed rolling his eyes. "We love" He stated smiling. I blushed and shook my head. "Sorry" I whispers running my hands over my cheeks that were out of control. He shook his head, his eyes not breaking mine.

"No it's okay" he smiled. I smiled up at him. "So...you think you'll do a video with us?" He asked quietly. I took in a breath. "i'll have to check my schedule" I teased looking at him. He licked his lips and nodded.

"You think you have time in your schedule for a date?" He asked smiling. My smile dropped as I looked at him, seeing if he was serious. He raised his eyebrows looking at me.

"Like actually?" I whispered looking at him. He smiled and nodded. "Dinner? My place?" He asked looking at me. I opened my mouth and then closed it just staring at him.

"Are you seeing someone?" He asked due to my silence. I shook my head quickly. "No" I stated. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Will you go out with me then?" He chuckled. I took in a breath before smiling, getting ready to respond but I was too nervous so I turned to the side.

I glanced over seeing Sarah leaning against Vinnie's shoulder, groaning with her eyes closed. I sat up straighter.

"Shit" I breathed. I looked back at Chris. "I'm sorry I have--" I said looking at him. He shook his head stepping back. "No go, you're fine" He said shaking his head. I took in breath stepping away from him and starting towards Sarah, but I paused turning back around to meet Chris's eyes again.

"Dinner. Your place. Saturday night work?" I breathed smiling. He started to smile. "Y-Yeah that's perfect" He nodded. I smiled before leaning up and kissing his cheek and then leaning back seeing I was no longer the one who was red in the face.

"You're sweet" I whispered. He just smiled at me, before I turned and headed off towards Sarah.

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